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Let. We shall be mauled again.

dream, that I am quite weary of it. [To Jobson.) Lucy. I thought our happiness was too great -Forsooth, madam, will you please to take to last.

your clothes, and let me have mine again? Lady. Fear not, my servants. It shall here

[To Lady LOVERULE. after be my endeavour to make you happy. Job. Hold your tongue, you fool; they'll serve Sir John. Persevere in this resolution, and we you to go to church.

[Aside. shall be blest indeed for life.

Lady. No, thou shalt keep them, and I'll pre

serve thine as reliques. Enter NELL.

Job. And can your ladyship forgive my strapNell. My head turns round! I must go home. ping your honour so very much? 0 Zekel ! Are you there?

Lady. Most freely. The joy of this blessed Job. O lud! Is that fine lady my wife? Egad, change sets all things right again. I'm afraid to come near her.' What can be the Sir John. Let us forget every thing that is meaning of this?

past, and think of nothing now but joy and pleaSir John. This is a happy change, and I'll have sure. it celebrated with all the joy I proclaimed for my late short-lived vision.

AIR.--Hey boys, up we go! Lady. To me, 'tis the happiest day I ever Lady. Let every face with smiles appear, knew.

Be joy in every breast ; Sir John. Here, Jobson, take thy fine wife.

Since from a life of pain and care, Job. But one word, sir. Did not your worship

We now are truly blest. make a buck of me, under the rose?

Sir John. May no remembrance of past time Sir John. No, upon my honour, nor ever kiss

Our present pleasures soil ; ed her lips till I came from hunting; but since Be nought but mirth and joy our crime, she has been a means of bringing about this

And sporting all our toil. happy change, I'll give thee five hundred pounds Job. I hope you'll give me leave to speak, home with her; go, buy a stock of leather.

If I may be so bold; Job. Brave boys! I'm a prince, the prince of There's nought but the devil, and this coblers. Come hither and kiss me, Nell; I'll

good strap, never strap thee more.

Could ever tame a scold. (Ereunt, Nell. Indeed, Zekel, I have been in such a

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SCENE I.-Sherwood Forest.

at all so. Why we are all of us lost in the dark

every day of our lives. Knaves keep us in the Enter several Courtiers, as lost. dark by their cunning, and fools by their igno1st Cour. "Tis horrid dark! and this wood, I rance. Divines lose us in dark mysteries ; law, believe, bas neither end nor side.

yers in dark cases; and statesmen in dark in4th Cour. You mean to get out at, for we trigues. Nay, the light of reason, which we have found one in, you see.

so much boast of, what is it but a dark lant2d Cour. I wish our good King Harry had kept horn, which just serves to prevent us from runnearer home to hunt; in my mind the pretty ning our nose against a post, perhaps; but is lame deer in London make much better sport no more able to lead us out of the dark inists of than the wild ones in Sherwood forest.

error and ignorance, in which we are lost, than 3d Cour. I can't tell which way his majesty an ignus fatuus would to conduct us out of went, nor whether any body is with him or not; this wood. but let us keep together, pray.

1st Cour. But, my lord, this is no time for 4th Cour. Ay, ay, like true courtiers, take preaching, methinks. And, for all your morals, care of ourselves, whatever becomes of our ma- daylight would be much preferable to this darkster.

ness, I believe. 2d Cour. Well, it's a terrible thing to be lost 3d Cour. Indeed would it. But come, let us in the dark.

go on; we shall find some house or other by and 4th Cour. It is. And yet it's so common by. a casc, that one would not think it should be 4th Cour, Come along.


inise you.

Enter the King

account of himself than you have done, I proKing. No, no; this can be no public road, King. I must submit to my own authority. that's certain : I am lost, quite lost indeed. of [Aside.] Very well, sir, I am glad to hear the what advantage is it now io be a king? Night king has so good an officer; and since I find you shews me no respect : I cannot see better, nor have his authority, I will give you a better acwalk so well as another man. What is a king? count of myself, if you will do me the favour to Is he not wiser than another man? Not with-bear it. out his counsellors, I plainly find. Is he not Mill. It's more than you deserve, I hemore powerful? I oft have been told so, in- lieve; but, let's hear what you can say for deed; but what now can my power command? yourself. Is he not, greater, and more magnificent ? King. I have the honour to belong to the When seated on his throne, and surrounded king, as well as you ; and, perhaps, should be as with nobles and flatterers, perhaps he may unwilling to see any wrong done him. I came think so; but when lost in a wood, 'alas! what down with him to hunt in this forest, and, the is he but a common man? His wisdom knows chase leading us to-day a great way from home, not which is north, and which is south; his I am benighted in this wood, and have lost my power a beggar's dog would bark at; and his way. greatness the beggar would not bow to. And Mil. This does not sound well; it you have yet, how oft are we puffed up with these false been a hunting, pray, where is


horse? attributes ? Well, in losing the monarch, I King. I have tired my horse, so that he lay have found the man.

down under me, and I was obliged to leave [The report of a gun is heard.bim. Hark! some villain sure is near ! What were

Mil. If I thought I might believe this now.it best to do? Will iny majesty protect me? King. I am not used to lic, honest man. No. Throw majesty aside, then, and let man- Mil. What! do you live at court, and not hood do it.

lie? that's a likely story, indeed!

King. Be that as it will, I speak truth now, Enter the Miller.

I assure you; and, to convince you of it, if Mil

. I believe, I hear the rogue. Who's you will attend me to Nortingham, if I am tbere?

near it, or give me a night's lodging in your King. No rogue, I assure you.

own house; here is something to pay you for Mil . Little better, friend, I believe. Who your trouble, and if that is not sufficient, I

will satisfy you in the morning to your utnost King, Not I, indeed,

desire. Mil. You lie, I believe.

Mil. Ay, now, I am convinced, you are a king. Lie ! lie! how strange it seems to me, courtier; here is a little bribe for to-day, and to be talked to iu this style. Aside.] Upon my a large pronise for to-morrow, both in a breath; word, I don't.

here, take it again, and take this along with Mil. Come, come, sirrah, confess; you have it.- -Johu Cockle is no courtier; he can do shot one of the king's deer, have not you? what he ought without a bribe.

King. No, indeed ; I owe the king more re- King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I spect. I heard a gun go off, indeed, and was must own, and I should be glad, methinks, to be afraid some robbers might have been near. farther acquainted with thee.

Mil. l'ın uot bound to believe this friend. Mil. Thee! and thou! prithee don't thee and Pray who are you? what's your name?

thou me: I believe I am as good a man as yourKing. Name:

self at least. Mil. Name! yes, name. Why you have a King. Sir, I beg your pardon. hame, have not you! Where do you come from? Mil. Nay, I am not angry, friend; only, What is your business here?

I don't love to be tvo familiar with any body, King. These are questions I have not been before I know whether they deserve it or used to, honest man.

Mil. May be so; but they are questions no King. You are in the right. But what am I bonest man would be afraid to answer, I think. to do? So, if you can give me no better account of Mil. You may do what you please. You are yourself, I shall make bold to take you along twelve miles from Nottingham, and all the way with me, if you please.

through this thick wood; but, if you are resolvKing. With you! what authority have you ed upon going thither to-night, I will put you in

the road, and direct you, the best I can; or, if Mil. The king's authority, if I must give you you will accept of such poor entertainment as an account, sir. I am John Cockle, the miller of a miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay Mansfield, one of his majesty's keepers in this all night, and, in the morning, I will go with you forest of Sherwood; and I will let no suspected myself

. fellow pass this way, that cannot give a better King. And cannot you go with me to-night?

fired that gun?


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Mil. I would not go with you to-night, if you | See who's there. O heavens ! 'tis he! Alas! were the king.

that ever I should be ashamed to see the man I King. Then I must go with you, I think. love!

Enter RICHARD, who stands looking on her at a

distance, she weeping. SCENE II.— The Town of Mansfield,

Dick. Well, Peggy (but I suppose you're ma

dam now, in that fine dress), you see, you have Dick alone.

brought me back; is it to triumph in your false

hood? or, am I to receive the slighted leavings Well, dear Mansfield, I am glad to see thy face again. But

of your fine lord ? heart aches, methinks, for fear

my this should be only a trick of theirs, to get me done you, I cannot look on you without con,

Peg. O Richard ! after the injury I have into their power. Yet, the letter seems to be fusion: But do not think so hardly of me: I wrote with an air of sincerity, 1 confess; and stayed not to be slighted by bim; for, the mothe girl was never used to lie, till she kept a Jord's company. Let me see, I'll read it once his sight; nor could he ever prevail to see me

ment I discovered his vile plot on you, I Aed

since. Dear Richard,

Dick. Ah, Peggy! you were too hasty in be

lieving; and much I fear, the vengeance aimI am at last (though much too ed at me, had other charms to recommend it to late for me) convinced of the injury done to us you; such bravery as that [Pointing to her both, by that base man, who made me think you clothes.] I had not to bestow; but, if a tenfalse. He contrived these letters which I send der, honest heart could please, you had it you, to make me think you just upon the point of all; and, if I wished for more, 'twas for your being married to another, a thought I could not sake. bear with patience ; so, aiming at revenge on Peg. O Richard! when you consider the wickyou, consented to my own undoing. But, for ed stratagein he contrived, to inake me think your own sake, I beg you to return hither, for you base and deceitful, I hope you will, at I have some hopes of being able to do you justice, least, pity my folly, and, in some measure

, exwhich is the only comfort of your most distressed, cuse my falsehood; that you will forgive me, I but ever affectionate,

dare not hope.
PEGGY.' Dick. To be forced to fly from my


and country, for a crime that I was innocent There can be no cheat in this, sure! The letters of, is an injury that I cannot easily forgive, to she has sent, are, I think, a proof of her since be sure: But, if you are less guilty of it than rity. Well, I will go to her, however : I can I thought, I shall be very glad; and, if your not think she will again betray me. If she has design be really, as you say, to clear me, and as much tenderness left for me, as, in spite of to expose the baseness of hin that betrayed her ill usage, I still feel for her, I'm sure she and ruined you, I will join with you, with won't. Let me see ! I am not far from the all my heart. But how do you propose to do house, I believe.

[Erit. this?

Peg. The king is now in this forest a-huntSCENE III.- A room.

ing, and our young lord is every day with him :

Now, I think, if we could take some opportuEnter Peggy and Phæbe, nity of throwing ourselves at his majesty's feet


and complaining of the injustice of one of his Phæbe. Pray, madam, make yourself easy. courtiers, it miglit, perhaps, have some effect

Peg. Ah, Phæbe! she that has lost her vir- upon him. tue, has, with it, lost her ease, and all her hap- Dick. If we were suffered to make him sensipiness. Believing, cheated fool! to think him ble of it, perhaps it might; but the complaints false.

of such little folks as we, seldom reach the ears Phæbe. Be patient, madam; I hope, you of majesty. will shortly be revenged on that deceitful Peg. We can but try. lord.

Dick. Well, if you will go with me to my faPeg. I hope I shall, for that were just re. ther's, and stay there, till such an opportunity venge! But, will revenge make me happy? Will happens, I shall believe you in earnest, and will it excuse jay falsehood? Will it restore me to join with you in your design. the heart of my much injured love! Ah, no! Peg. I will do any thing to convince you of That blooming innocence he used to praise, and my sincerity, and to make satisfaction for the call the greatest beauty of our sex, is gone! I injuries which have been done you. have no charm left, that might renew that Dick. Will you go now? flame, I took such pains to quench.

Peg. I'll be with you in less than an hour. (Knocking at the door.


SCENE IV.-The Mill.

Dick. Very well, I thank you, father.

King. A little more, and you had pushed me MARGERY and Kate knitting.


Mil. Faith, sir, you must excuse me; I was Kate. O dear! I would not see a spirit for overjoyed to see my boy. He has been at all the world! but I love dearly to hear stories London, and I have not seen him these four of them. Well, and what then?

years. Mar. And so at last, in a dismal hollow tone, King. Well, I shall once in my life have the it cried

happiness of being treated as a common man; (A knocking at the door frights them both; and of seeing human nature without disguise. they scream out, and throw down their

Aside. knitting.

Mil. What has brought thee home so unex. Mar.

pected ? Kate. } Lord bless us! What's that?

Dick. You will know that presently. Kate. O dear mother! it's some judgment Mil. Of that, by-and-by, then. We have got upon us, I am afraid! They say, talk of the de- the king down in the forest a hunting, this seavil, and he'll appear.

son; and this honest gentleman, who came Mar. Kate, go and see who's at the door. down with his majesty from London, has been Kate. I durst not go, mother! do you go. with them to-day, it seems, and has lost his Mar. Come, let's both go!

way.--Come, Madye, see what thou can'st Kate. Now, don't speak as if you was get for supper. Kill a couple of the best fowls : afraid !

[Erit Mar.] and go you, Kate, and "draw a Mar. No, I won't, if I can help it. Who's pitcher of ale [Exit Kate.]-We are famous, there?

sir, at Mansfield, for good ale; and for honest Dick. [Without.] What! won't you let me fellows, that know how to drink it. in

King. Good ale will be acceptable at present, Kate. O gemini ! it's like our Dick, I think : for I am very dry. But, pray, how came your He's certainly dead! and it's his spirit. son to leave you, and go to London?

Mar. Heav'n forbid ! I think in iny heart, it's Mil. Whý, that's a story which Dick, perbe himself. Open the door, Kate.

haps, won't like to have told. Kate. Nay ! do you.

King. Then I don't desire to hear it. Mar. Come, we'll both open it. [They open the door. Enter Kate, with an earthen pitcher of ale,

and a horn, Enter Dick.

Mil. So; now, do you go help your mother. Dick. Dear mother ! how do you do? 11 --Sir, my hearty service to you. thought you would not have let me in !

King. Thank


sir. This plain sincerity and Mar. Dear child! I'm overjoyed to see thee; freedom, is a happiness unknown to kings. but I was so frighted, I did not know what to

[Aside. do.

Alil. Come, sir. Kate. Dear brother, I am glad to see you!

King. Richard, iny service to you. how bave you done this long while?

Dick. Thank you, sir. Dick. Very well, Kate. But where's my fa

Mil. Well, Dick, and how dost thou like ther?

London ? Come, tell us what thou hast seen. Mar. He heard a gun go off, just now, and

Dick. Seen! I have seen the land of prohe's gone to see who 'tis.

mise. Dick. What, they love venison at Mansfield Mil. The land of promise! What dost thou as well as ever, I suppose?

mean? kote. Ay; and they will have it, too.

Dick. The court, father, Mil. Without.]-Hoa! Madge! Kate ! bring

Mil. Thou wilt never leave joking. a light here!

Dick. To be serious, then, I have seen the Mar. Yonder he is.

disappointment of my bopes and expectations; Kate. Has he catched the rogue, I wonder?

and that's more than one would wish to see.

Mil. What! Would the great man, thou wast Enter the King and the Miller. recommended to, do nothing at all for thee at

last? Mar. Who have you got?

Dick. Why, yes; he would promise me to Mil. I have brought thee a stranger, Madge; the last. thou must give him a supper, and a lodging, if Mil. Zoons! Do the courtiers think their dethou can'st.

pendents can eat promises ? Mar. You have got a better stranger of your Dick. No, no; they never trouble their heads own, I can tell you : Dick's come.

to think whether we eat at all or not. I have Mil. Dick! Where is he? Why, Dick ! How now dangled after his lordship several years, ist, my lad?

tantalized with hopes and expectations ; this

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