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Lure. I thank your majesty. I will not be think, you ought, in justice, to marry her you severe; he shall only ask my pardon, and to thus have wronged. morrow morning be obliged to marry the erea- Peg. Let my tears thank your majesty. But, ture he has traduced me with.

alas! I am afraid to marry


lord : King. This is mild. Well, you

your sen-

that would only give him power to use me tence

worse, and still encrease my misery; I, thereDick. May I not have leave to speak before fore, beg your majesty will not command him to your majesty?

do it. King. What can'st thou say?

King. Rise, then, and hear me. My lord, you Dick. If I had your majesty's permission, I see how low the greatest nobleman may be redubelieve I have certain witnesses which will unde-ced by ungenerous actions. Here is, under your niably prove the truth of all I have accused his own hand, an absolute promise of marriage to lordship of.


young woman, which, from a thorough knowKing. Produce them.

ledge of your unworthiness, she has prudently Duck. Peggy!

declined to make you fulfil. I shall, therefore,

not insist upon it: but I'command you, upon Enter PEGGY.

pain of my displeasure, immediately to settle on King. Do


know this woman, my lord? her three hundred pounds a-year. Lure. I know her, please your majesty, by Peg. May Heaven reward your majesty's sight; she's a tenant's daughter.

goodness. 'i'is too much for me; but if your Peg. [Aside.] Majesty! - What, is this the majesty thinks fit, let it be settled upon this king?

much injured man, to make some satisfaction for Dick. Yes.

the wrongs which have been done him. As to King. Ilave you no particular acquaintance myself, I only sought to clear the innocence of with her?

him I loved and wronged, theu hide me from the Lure. Hum! I have not seen her these seve- world, and die forgiven. ral months.

Dick. This act of generous virtue cancels all Dick. True, my lord; and that is part of your ac- past failings; come to my arms, and be as dear cusation ; for, I believe, I have some letters which as ever. will prove your lordship once had a more parti- Peg. You cannot, sure, forgive me ! cular acquaintance with her. Here is one of the Dick. I can, I do, and still will make you first his Jordship wrote to her, full of the ten-mine. derest and most solemn protestations of love and Peg. O, why did I ever wrong such generous constancy; here is another, which will inform love? your majesty of the pains he took to ruin her.- Dick. Talk no

more of it. Here, let us There is an absolute promise of marriage be- kneel, and thank the goodness which has made fore he could accomplish it.

King. What say you, my lord? are these your King. May you be happy! hands?

Mil. [Kneels.] After I have seen so much of Lure. I believe, please your majesty, I might your majesty's goodness, I cannot despair of parhave a little affair of gallantry with the girl some don, even for the rough usage your majesty' re

ceived from me. King. It was a little affair, my lord; a mean [The king draws his sword, the Miller is affair; and what you call gallantry, I call infa- frighted, and rises up, thinking he was mv. Do you think, my lord, that greatness gives

going to kill him. a sanction to wickedness? Or that it is the prero-What have I done, that I should lose my life? gative of lords to be unjust and inhuman You King. Kneel without fear. No, my good bost, remember the sentence which yourself pronoun- so far are you from having any thing to pardon, ced upon this innocent man; you cannot think that I am much your debtor. I cannot think but it hard that it should pass on you who are so good and honest a man will make a worthy guilty.

and honourable knight; so, rise up, sir John Lure. I hope your majesty will consider my Cockle: And to support your state, and in some rank, and not oblige me to marry her.

sort requite the pleasure you have done us, a King. Your rank, my lord! Greatness, that thousand marks a year shall be your revenue. stoops to actions base and low, deserts its rank, Mit. Your majesty's bounty I receive with and pulls its honours down. What makes your thanktulness; I have been guilty of no meanness lordship great? Is it your gilded equipage and to obtain it, and hope I shall not be obliged to dress? Then put it on your meanest slave, and keep it upon base conditions; for though I am he's as great as you. Is it your riches tw estate? willing to be a faithful subject, I am resolved to The villain that sbould plunder you of all, would be a free, and an honest man. then be as great as you. No, my lord; he, that King. I rely upon your being so: And, to acts greatly, is the true great man. I therefore gain the friendship of such a one, I shall al

us blest.


time ago.

ways think an addition to my happiness, though a king.


Worth, in whatever state, is sure a prize, Which kings, of all men, ought not to despise;

By selfish sycophants so close besieged,
'Tis by mere chance a worthy man's obliged:
But hence, to every courtier be it known,
Virtue shall find protection from the throne.

[Exeunt omnes.

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Bar. The bag, sir.

Sir John. The bag, sir! an what's this bag Enter Sir John, Tailor, Barber, and JOE.

for, sir? this is not the fashion too, I hope? Tay. 'Tis the fashion, sir, I assure you.

Bar. It's what is very much wore, sir, indeed. Sir John. Fashions are for fools; don't tell me Sir John. Wore, sir! how is it wore? where of fashion. Must a man make an ass of himself, is it wore? what is it for? because it's the fashion?

Bar. Sir, it is only for ornament. Tay. But you would be like other folks, sir, Sir John. 0, 'tis an ornament! I beg your parwould not you?

don! Now, positively, I should not have taken Sir John. No, sir, if this is their likeness, I this for an ornament. My poor grey hairs are, iu would not be like other folks. Why, a my opinion, much more becoming. But, come, might as well be cased up in armour; here's put it on! There, now, what do you think I buckram and whalebone enough, to turn a bullet.am like?

Joe. Sir, here's the barber has broug!ıt you Joe. I cod measter, you're not like the same home a new periwig.

mon, I'm sure. Sir John. Let him come in. Come, friend ! Bar. Sir, 'tis very genteel, I assure you, let's see if you're as good at fashions as Mr Sir John. Genteel! ay, that it may be, for Buckram here. What the devil's this?

aught I know, but I'm sure 'tis very ugly.


Bar. They wear nothing else in France, sir. King. No, but I have sent for him to attend

Sir John. In France, sir! vi hat's France to ine this evening: and I design, with only you, me? I'm an Englishman, sir, and know no nghi the my lords, whu are now present, to entertain my. fools of France have to be iny examples flere, self a while with his honest freedom. He wilt take it again; I'll have done of your new-tangled be here presently. French fopperies; and if you please, I'll make 2d Cour. He must certainly divert your mayou a present of this tine, fashionable coat avain. jesty. Fashion, indeed!

3d Cour. He may be diverting, perhaps ; but [ Exeunt Tailor, Barber, and Joe. if I may speak my mind freely, I think there is

something too plain and rough in his behaviour, Re-enter Joe with the French Cook. for vour majesty to bear.

King. Your lordship, perhaps, may he afraid Joe. Sir, here's a fine gentleman wants to of plain truth and sincerity, but I am not. speak with you.

3d Cour. I beg your majesty's pardon; I did Cook. Sir, me have hear dat your honour want not suppose you was; I only think, there is a one cook.

certain awe and reverence due to your majesty, Sir John. Sir, you are very obliging; I sup- which I am afraid his want of politeness may

I puse you would recommend one to ine. But, as

make him transgress. I don't know you-

King. My lord, whilst I love my subjects, and Cook. No, no, sir! me am one cook myself, preserve to them all their rights and liberties, and would be proud of de honour to serve you.

I doubt not of ineeting with a proper respect Sir John. You a cook! and pray, what wa- from the roughest of them; but as for the awc ges may you expect, to afford such finery as and reverence which your politeness would fatthat?

ter me with, I love it not. I will, that all my Cook. Me will have one hundred guinca a subjects treat me with sincerity. An honest year, no more; and two or three servant under freedom of speech, as it is every hone-t man's me to do de work.

right, so none can be afraid of it, but he that is Sir John. Hum! very reasonable truly! And, conscious to himself of ill-deservings. Sound pray, what extraordinary matters can you do, to maxims, and right conduct, can never be ridideserve such wages?

culed; and, where the contrary prevail, the seveCook. O! me can make you one hundred rest censure is greatest kindness. dish, de Englis know noting of; me can make 3d Cour. I believe your inajesty is in the right, you de portable soup to put in your pocket : me and I stand corrected. can dress you de foul a-la marli, en galentine, a-la montmorancy; de duck en gribadin; de

Enter a GENTLEMAN. chicken a la chombre; de turkey en botine ; de pidgeon en mirliton a l Italienne, a-la d' Gen. May it please your majesty, here is a perHuxelles : en five, me can give you de essence son who calls hiinself sir John Cockle, the milof five or six ham, and de juice of ten or twelve ler of Mansfield, begs admittance to your mastone of beef, all in de sauce of one little dish. jesty.

Sir John. Very fine! At this rate, no wonder King. Conduct him in. the poor are starved, and the butcher unpaid. No, I will have no such cooks, I promise you; it

Enter Sir Joux. is the luxury and extravagance introduced by King. Honest sir John Cockle, you are welsuch French kickshaw-mongers as you, that has come to London. devoured and destroyed old English hospitality! Sir John. I thank your majesty for the honour Go! go about your business; I have no mind to you do me, and am glad to find your majesty in be beggared, nor to beggar bonest tradesmen. good health. Joe !

[Erit Cook. King. But pray, sir John, why in the habit of a Joe. Sir.

miller yet? What I gave you was with a design Sir John. Let my daughter know, the king has to set you above the mean dependence of a trade sent for me, and I am gone to court, to wait on for subsistence. his majesty.

Sir John. Your majesty will pardon my freeJoe. Yes, sir.

[Ereunt. dom. Whilst my trade will support me, I ain

independent; and I look upon that to be more SCENE II.

honourable in an Englishman, than any depen

dance whatsoever. I am a plain, blunt man, Enter the King, and several Courtiers.

and may, possibly, some time or other, offend King. Well, my lords, our old friend, the mil- your majesty; and where, then, is my subsistler of Vansheid is arrived at last.

ence? 1st Cour. He has been in town two or three King. And dare you not trust the honour of a days; has not your inajesty seen him yet? kiny?


Sir John. Without doubt I might trust your King. No: Singularity in the right is never a majesty very safely; but, in general, though the crime. If you are satistied your a. tious are honour of kings ought to be more sacred, the hu- just, let the world blush that they are singular. mour of kings is like that of other men; and, Sir John. Nay, and I am, perhaps, not so rewhen they please to change their mind, who shall gardless of interest as your majesty may appredare to call their honour in question ?

hend. It is very possible a knight, or even a King. Sir John. you are in the right; and I am lord, may be poor as well as a farmer. Nu of glad to see you maintain that noble freedom of fence, I hope? [Turning to the courtiers. spirit: I wish all my subjects were as indepen- Cour. No, no, no. "linpertinent fellow ! dent on me as you resolve to be; I should then

[Aside. hear more truth and less flattery. But come, King. Weli, sir John, I shall be glad to hear what news? How does my lady and your son

more of this affair another time; but tell me Richard ?

how you like London? Your son Richard, I reSir John. I thank your majesty; Margery is member, gave a very satirical description of it; very well, and so is Dick.

I hope you are better entertained. King. I hope you have brought her up to town

Sir John. So well, that I assure your majesty, with you?

I ain in admiration and wonder ali day long. Sir John. She has displeased me, of late, very King. Ay! well, let us hear what it is you admuch.

mire and wonder at. King. In what?

Sir John. Almost every thing I see or hear of. Sir John. You shall hear. When I was only When I see the splendour and magniticence in plain John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, a which some noblemen appear, I admire their farmer's son, in the neighbourhood, made love to riches ; but when I hear of their debts, and their my daughter. He was a worthy, honest man. mortgages, I wonder at their folly. When I He loved my daughter sincerely; and, to all ap hear of a dinner costing an hundred pounds, I pearance, her affections were placed on him. I am surprised that one man should have so many approved of the match, and gave him my con- friends to entertain; but when I am told, that sent. But when your majesty's bounty had raised it was made only for five or six squeamish lords, my fortune and condition, my daughter, Kate, or piddling ladies, that eat not perhaps an ounce became Miss Kitty : She grew a fine girl, and a-piece, I am quite astonished. When I hear of was presently taken notice of by the young gen- an estate of twenty or thirty thousand a year, I tlemen of the country. Amongst the rest, sir envy the man that has it in his power to do so Timothy Flash, a young, rakish, extravagant much good, and wonder how he disposes of it; knight, rnade his addresses to her; his title, his but when I am told of the necessary expences dress, his equipage, dazzled her eyes and her un- of a gentleman in horses and whores, and eating derstanding; and fond, I suppose, of being made and drinking, and dressing and gaming, I am a lady, she despises and forsakes her first lover, surprised that the poor man is able to live. In the honest farmer, and is determined to marry short, when I consider our puòlick credit, our this mad, wrong-headed knight.

honour, our courage, our freedom, our publick King. And is this the occasion of your dis- spirit, I am surprised, amazed, astonished, and

I pleasure? I should think you had rather cause to confounded. rejoice that she was so prudent. What! do you 1 st Cour. Is not this bold, sir? think it no advantage to your daughter, nor ho- Sir John. Perhaps it may; but I suppose bis pour to yourself, to be allied to so great a man? majesty would not have an Englishman a coward?

Sir John. It may be an honour to be allied to a King. Far from it. Let the generous spirit of great man, when a great man is a man of honour; freedom reign unchecked: To speak his mind, is but that is not always the case. Besides, no the undoubted right of every Briton; and be it thing that is unjust, can be either prudent or ho- the glory of my reign, that all my subjects enjoy nourable: And the breaking her faith and pro- that honest liberty. 'Tis my wish to redress all mise with a man that loved, and every way de- grievances; to right all wronys: But kings, alas ! served her, merely for the sake of a little vanity, are but fallible men; errors in government will or self-interest, is an action that I am ashamed happen, as well as failings in private life, and my daughter could be guilty of.

ought to be candidly imputed. And let me ask you King. Why, you are the most extraordinary one question, sir John. Do you really think you man I ever knew: I have heard of fathers quar- could honestly withstand all the temptations that relling with their children for marrying foolishly wealth and power would lay before you? for love; but you are so singular as to blame Sir John. I will not boast before your majesyour's for marrying wisely for interest


ty; perhaps I could not. Yet give me leave to Sir John. Why, I may differ a little from the say, the man, whom wealth or power can make common practice of my neighbours

-But, a villain, is sure unworthy of possessing either. I hope your majesty does not, therefore, think King. Suppose self-interest, too, should clash me to blame?

with publick duty ?


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