Lady. Oh, astonishing impudence! You my husband, sirrah? I'll have you hanged, you rogue! I'm a lady. Let me know who has given me a sleeping-draught, and conveyed me hither, you dirty varlet?

Job. A sleeping-draught! yes, you drunken jade; you had a sleeping-draught with-a-pox to you. What, has not your lambs-wool done working yet?

Lady. Where am I? Where has my villainous husband put me? Lucy! Lettice! Where are my queans?

Job. Ha, ha, ha! what, does she call her maids, too? The conjuror has made her mad as well as drunk.

Lady. He talks of conjurors; sure I am bewitched. Ha! what clothes are here? a lindseywoolsey gown, a calico hood, a red bays petticoat! I am removed from my own house by witchcraft. What must I do? What will become of me? [Horns wind without.

Job. Hark! the hunters and the merry horns are abroad. Why, Nell, you lazy jade, 'tis break of day! to work, to work! come and spin, you drab, or I'll tan your hide for you! What-a-pox, must I be at work two hours before you in a morning?

Lady. Why, sirrah, thou impudent villain, dost thou not know me, you rogue?

Job. Know you! yes, I know you well enough, and I'll make you know me before I have done with you.

Lady. I am sir John Loverule's lady; how

came I here?

Job. Sir John Loverule's lady! no, Nell; not quite so bad, neither; that damned stingy, fanatic whore, plagues every one that comes near her; the whole country curses her.

Lady. Nay, then, I'll hold no longer; you rogue! you insolent villain! I'll teach you better manners. [Flings the bedstaff, and other things, at him.

Job. This is more than ever I saw by her; I never had an ill word from her before. Come, strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I warrant you, quean. [He straps her, she flies at him. Lady. I'll pull your throat out; I'll tear out your eyes! I am a lady, sirrab. O murder! murder! Sir John Loverule will hang you for this; murder! murder!

Job. Come, hussy, leave fooling, and come to your spinning, or else I'll lamb you; you ne'er was so lambed since you were an inch long. Take it up, you jade. [She flings it down, he straps her. Lady. Hold, hold! I'll do any thing

Job. Oh! I thought I should bring you to yourself again.

Lady. What shall I do? I can't spin. [Aside. Job. I'll into my stali; 'tis broad day, now. [Works and sings.

AIR.-Come, let us prepare.

Let matters of state
Disquiet the great,

The cobler has nought to perplex him;
Has nought but his wife

To ruffle his life,

SCENE I.-changes to SIR JOHN's house.

NELL in bed.

Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had tonight! Methought I was in paradise, upon a bed of violets and roses, and the sweetest husband by my side! Ha! bless me, where am I now? What sweets are these? No garden in the spring can equal them: Am I on a bed? The sheets are sarsenet sure! no linen ever was so fine. What a gay, silken robe have I got? O Heaven! I dream! Yet, if this be a dream, I would not wish to wake again. Sure, I died last night, and went to Heaven, and this is it.

Enter Lucy.

Lucy. Now must I awake an alarm, that will not lie still again till midnight, at soonest; the

first greeting, I suppose, will be jade, or whore. Madam! madam!

Nell. O gemini! who's this? What dost say, sweetheart?

Lucy. Sweetheart! Oh lud, sweetheart! the best names I have had these three months from her, have been slut, or whore.What gown and ruffles will your ladyship wear to-day?

Nell. What does she mean? Ladyship! gown! and ruffles! Sure I am awake: Oh! I remember the cunning man now.

Lucy. Did your ladyship speak?

Nell. Ay, child; I'll wear the same I did yes

terday.

Lucy. Mercy upon me!-Child!—Here's a miracle!

Enter LETTICE.

Let. Is my lady awake? Have you had her shoe or her slipper flung at your head yet ?

Lucy. Oh no, I'm overjoyed; she's in the kindest humour! go to the bed, and speak to her; now is your time.

Let. Now's my time! what, to have another tooth beat out! -Madam!

Nell. What dost say, my dear?what would she have!

-O father!

Let. What work will your ladyship please to have done to-day? Shall I work plain-work, or go to my stitching?

Nell. Work, child! 'tis holiday; no work today.

Let. Oh mercy! am I, or she awake? or do we both dream? Here's a blessed change? Lucy. If it continues, we shall be a happy family.

Let. Your ladyship's chocolate is ready. Nell. Mercy on me! what's that? Some garment I suppose? [Aside.]—Put it on then, sweetheart.

Let. Put it on, madam! I have taken it off; 'tis ready to drink.

Nell. I mean, put it by; I don't care for drinking now.

Enter Cook.

Cook. Now go I like a bear to the stake, to know her scurvy ladyship's commands about dinner. How many rascally names must I be called.

Let. Oh, John Cook! you'll be out of your wits to find my lady in so sweet a temper.

Cook. What a devil! are they all mad? Lucy. Madam, here's the cook come about dinner.

Nell. Oh! there's a fine cook! He looks like one of your gentlefolks. [Aside.]—Indeed, honest man, I'm very hungry now; pray get me a rasher upon the coals, a piece of one milk cheese, and some white bread.

Cook. Hey! what's to do here? my head turns round. Honest man! I looked for rogue or rascal, at least. She's strangely changed in her diet, as well as her humour. [Aside.]—I'm afraid, madam, cheese and bacon will sit very heavy on your ladyship's stomach, in a morning. If you please, madam, I'll toss you up a white fricasee of chickkens in a trice, niadani; or what does your ladyship think of a veal sweetbread?

Nell. E'en what you will, good cook.

Cook. Good cook! good cook! Ah! 'tis a sweet lady!

Enter Butler.

Oh! kiss me, Chip, I am out of my wits: We have the kindest, sweetest lady!

But. You shamining rogue, I think you are out of your wits, all of ye; the maids look merrily,

too.

Lucy. Here's the butler, madam, to know your ladyship's orders.

Nell. Oh! pray Mr Butler ! let me have some small-beer when my breakfast comes in.

But. Mr Butler! Mr Butler! I shall be turned into stone with amazement! [Aside.]-Would not your ladyship rather have a glass of Frontiniac, or Lacryme?

Nell. O dear! what hard names are there! but I must not betray myself. [Aside.]-Well, which you please, Mr Butler.

Enter Coachman.

But. Go, get you in, and be rejoiced as I am. Coach. The cook has been making his game I know not how long. What, do you banter, too? Lucy. Madam, the coachman.

Coach. I come to know if your ladyship goes out to-day, and which you'll have, the coach or

chariot.

Nell. Good lack-a-day! I'll ride in the coach, if you please.

Coach. The sky will fall, that's certain. [Exit. Nell. I can hardly think I am awake yet. How well pleased they all seem to wait upon me! O notable cunning man! My head turns round! I am quite giddy with my own happiness.

AIR.-What though I am a country lass.

Though late I was a cobler's wife,
In cottage most obscure-a.
In plain stuff-gown, and short-eared coif,
Hard labour did endure-a:

Enter SIR JOHN, meeting his servants. But. Oh, sir! here's the rarest news! Lucy. There never was the like, sir! you'll be overjoyed and amazed.

Sir John. What, are ye mad? What's the matter with ye? How now here's a new face in my family; what's the meaning of all this?

But. Oh, sir! the family's turned upside down. We are almost distracted; the happiest people! Lucy. Ay, my lady, sir, my lady. Sir John. What, is she dead?

But. Dead! Heaven forbid! O! she's the best woman, the sweetest lady!

Sir John. This is astonishing! I must go and inquire into this wonder. If this be true, I shall rejoice indeed.

But. Tis true, sir, upon my honour. Long live sir John and my lady! huzza!

Enter NELL.

Nell. I well remember the cunning man warned me to bear all out with confidence, or worse, he said, would follow. I am ashamed, and know not what to do with all this ceremony: I am amazed, and out of my senses. I looked in the

glass, and saw a gay fine thing I knew not; methought my face was not at all like that I have seen at home, in a piece of looking-glass fastened upon the cup-board. But great ladies, they say, have flattering-glasses, that shew them far unlike themselves, whilst poor folks glasses represent them e'en just as they are.

AIR.-When I was a dame of honour.
Fine ladies, with an artful grace,

Disguise each native feature;
Whilst flattering glasses shew the face,
As made by art, not nature;
But we poor folks in home-spun grey,
By patch nor washes tainted,
Look fresh and sweeter far than they,
That still are finely painted.

Lucy. O madam! here's my master just returned from hunting.

Enter SIR JOHN.

Nell. O gemini! this fine gentleman my husband!

Sir John. My dear, I am overjoyed to see my family thus transported with exstasy which you occasioned.

Nell. Sir, I shall always be proud to do every thing, that may give you delight, or your family satisfaction.

Sir John. By Heaven, I am charmed! dear creature, if thou continuest thus, I had rather enjoy thee than the Indies. But can this be real? May I believe my senses?

Nell. All that's good above can witness for me, I am in earnest. [Kneels. Sir John. Rise, my dearest! Now am I happy indeed- -Where are my friends, my servants? call them all, and let them be witnesses of my happiness. [Exit. Nell. O rare, sweet man! he smells all over like a nosegay. Heaven preserve my wits!

AIR-'Twas within a furlong, &c.

Nell. O charming cunning man! thou hast been wondrous kind,

And all thy golden words do now prove
true, I find;

Ten thousand transports wait,
To crown my happy state,
Thus kissed, and pressed,
And doubly blessed

In all this

and state: pomp New scenes of joy arise, Which fill me with surprise;

My rock, and reel,
And spinning-wheel,

And husband I despise;

Then Jobson, now adieu,

Thy cobling still pursue,

buckle to.

For hence I will not, cannot, no, nor must not,

SCENE IL-JOBSON's house.

Enter LADY.

Lady. Was ever lady yet so miserable? I can't make one soul in the village acknowledge me; they sure are all of the conspiracy. This wicked husband of mine has laid a devilish plot against me. I must at present submit, that I may hereafter have an opportunity of executing my design. Here comes the rogue; I'll have him strangled; but now I must yield.

Enter JOBSON.

Job. Come on, Nell; art thou come to thyself yet?

Lady. Yes, I thank you, I wonder what I ailed; this cunning man has put powder in my drink, most certainly.

Job. Powder! the brewer put good store of powder of malt in it, that's all. Powder, quoth she! ha, ha, ha!

Lady. I never was so all the days of my life. Job. Was so! no, nor I hope ne'er will be so again, to put me to the trouble of strapping you so devilishly.

Lady. I'll have that right hand cut off for that, rogue. [Aside.]-You was unmerciful to bruise

me so.

Job. Well, I'm going to sir John Loverule's; all his tenants are invited; there's to be rare feasting and revelling, and open house kept for three months.

Lady. Husband, shan't I go with you?

Job. What the devil ails thee now? Did I not tell thee but yesterday, I would strap thee for desiring to go, and art thou at it again, with a pox?

Lady. What does the villain mean by strapping, and yesterday?

Job. Why, I have been married but six weeks, and you long to make me a cuckold already. Stay at home, and be hanged! there's good cold pye in the cupboard; but I'll trust thee no more with strong-beer, hussy.

[Exit.

Lady. Well, I'll not be long after you; sure I shall get some of my own family to know me; they can't be all in this wicked plot. [Exit.

SCENE III-SIR JOHN'S.
SIR JOHN and company enter.
DUETT.

Sir John. Was ever man possest of
So sweet, so kind a wife!
Dear sir, you make me proud:
Be you but kind,

Nell.

[Exit.

Sir John. Nell.

And you shall find

All the good I can boast of
Shall end but with my life.
Give me thy lips;

First let me, dear sir, wipe them;

Nell. O dear! I'm afraid my husband will beat me, that am on t'other side the room, there. Job. I hope your honours will pardon her; she been mad ever since, and calls herself my lady Loverule.

But. Why, how now! Who are you? Lady. Impudent varlet! Don't you know your lady?

But. Lady! here, turn this mad woman out of doors!

Lady. You rascal! take that, sirrah!

[Flings a glass at him. Foot. Have a care, hussy! there's a good pump without; we shall cool your courage for you. Lady. You, Lucy, have you forget me too, you minx?

Lucy. Forgot you, woman! Why, I never remembered you; I never saw you before in my life.

Lady. Oh, the wicked slut! I'll give you cause to remember me, I will, hussy.

[Pulls her headcloths off. Lucy. Murder! Murder! Help! Sir John. How now! What uproar's this? Lady. You, Lettice, you slut! Won't you know me, neither?

Let. Help, help!

[Strikes her.

Sir John. What's to do there? But. Why, sir, here's a madwoman calls herself my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all round.

Sir John. [To LADY.]-Thou my wife! poor creature! I pity thee! I never saw thee before. Lady. Then it is in vain to expect redress from thee, thou wicked contriver of all my misery.

Nell. How am I amazed! Can that be I, there in my clothes, that have made all this disturbance? And yet I am here, to my thinking, in these fine clothes. How can this be? I am so confounded and affrighted, that I begin to wish I was with Zekel Jobson again.

Lady. To whom shall I apply myself, or whither can I fly? Heaven! What do I see! Is not that I, yonder, in my gown and petticoat I wore yesterday? How can it be! I cannot be in two places at once.

VOL. III.

Nell. O pray, Zekel, don't beat me.

Sir John. What says my love? Does she infect thee with madness, too?

Nell. I am not well; pray lead me in.

[Exeunt NELL and maid. Job. I beseech your worship don't take it ill of me; she shall never trouble you more. Sir John. Take her home, and use her kindly. Lady. What will become of me?

[Exeunt JOBSON and LADY. Enter footman.

Foot. Sir, the doctor, who called here last night, desires you will give him leave to speak a word or two with you, upon very earnest busi

ness.

Sir John. What can this mean? Bring him in.

Enter DOCTOR.

Doc. Lo! on my knees, sir, I beg forgivenness for what I have done, and put my life into your hands.

Sir John. What mean you?

Doc. I have exercised my magic art upon your lady; I know you have too much honour to take away my life, since I might have still concealed it, had I pleased.

Sir John. You have now brought me to a glimpse of misery too great to bear. Is all my happiness then turned into a vision only?

Doc. Sir, I beg you, fear not; if any harm comes of it, I freely give you leave to hang me. Sir John. Inform me what you have done. Doc. I have transformed your lady's face se,

F