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SCENE I.-A Room.

Bar. The bag, sir.

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

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

Bar. It's what is very much wore, sir, indced. Sir John. Fashions are for fools ; don't tell me Sir John. Wore, sir ! how is it wore? where of iashjou. 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. Tai. But you would be like other folks, sir, Sir John. O,'tis an ornament ! I beg your par. nould 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 bairs are, in pould not be like other folks. Why, a man my opinion, much more becoming. But, come, might as well be cased up in armour; here's buck- put it on! There, now, what do you think I Tamn and whalebone enough to turn a hullet.

am like? Joe. Sir, bere's the barber has brought you Joe. Icod, measter, you're not like the same bome 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. 2d Court. He must certainly divert your ma

Sir John. In France, sir! what's France to jesty. me? I'ın an Englishman, sir, and know no right 3d Cour. He may be diverting, perhaps; but the fools of France have to be my examples. if I may speak my mind freely, I think there is Here, take it again; I'll have none of your new something too plain and rough in his bebaviour, fangled French fopperies; and if you please, I'll for your majesty to bear. make you a present of this fine, fashionable coat King. Your lordship, perhaps, may be afraid again. Fashion, indeed!

of plain truth and sincerity, but I am not. [Éreunt Tailor, Barber, and Joe. 3d Cour. I beg your majesty's pardon; I did

not suppose you was; I only think, there is a Enter Joe with the French Cook.

certain awe and reverence due to your majesty, Joe. Sir, here's a fine gentleman wants to which I am afraid his want of politeness may speak with you.

make him transgress. Cook. Sir, me bave hear dat your honour King. My lord, whilst I love my subjects, and want one cook.

preserve to them all their rights and liberties, I Sir John. Sir, you are very obliging; I supo doubt not of meeting with a proper respect from pose you would recommend one to nie. But as the roughest of them; but as for the awe and I don't know your

reverence which your politeness would Aatter Cook. No, no, sir ! me am one cook myself, me with, I love it not. I will, that all my suband would be proud of de honour to serve you. jects treats me with sincerity: An honest free

Sir John. You a cook ! and pray, what wagesdom of speech, as it is every honest man's right, may you expect, to afford such finery as that? so none can be afraid of it, but he that is con

Cook. Me will have one hundred guinea a scious to bimself of ill-deservings. Sound maxyear, no inore; and two or three servaut under ims, and right conduct, can never be ridiculed ; me to do de work.

and, where the contrary prevail, the severest Sir John. Hum! very reasonable truly! And, censure is greatest kindness. pray, what extraordinary matters can you do, to 3d Cour. I believe your inajesty is in the right, deserve such wages ?

and I stand corrected, Cook. O! me

can make you one hundred dish, de Englis know noting of; me can make

Enter a Gentleman. you de portable soup to put in your pocket : me

Gen. May it please your majesty, here is a can dress you de foul a-la marli, en galentine, 1 person, who calls himself Sir John Cockle, the a-la montmorancy; de duck en grinadin; de miller of Mansfield, begs admittance to your chicken a-la chombre; de turkey en botine; majesty. de pidgeon en mirliton a l' Italienne, a-la d'

King. Conduct him in. Huxelles: en fine, me can give you de essence of five or six ham, and de juice of ten or twelve

Enter Sir Johs. stone of beef, all in de sauce of one little dish.

King. Honest Sir John Cockle, you are welSir John. Very fine ! At this rate, no wonder

come to London. the poor are starved, and the butcher unpaid. No, I will bave no such cooks, I promise you ; it you do me, and am glad to find your majesty in

Sir John. I thank your majesty for the honour is the luxury and extravagance introduced by good health. such French kickshaw-mongers as you, that has devoured and destroyed old English bospitality! a miller yet? What I gave you was with a design

King. But pray, Sir John, why in the habit of Go! go about your business; I have no mind to be beggared, nor to beggar bonest tradesmen. for subsistence.

to set you above the mean dependence of a trade Joe !

[Exit Cook.

Sir John. Your majesty will pardon my freeJoe. Şir!

dom. Whilst my trade will support me, I am Sir John. Let my daughter know, the king has independent; and I look upon that to be more sent for me, and I am gone to court, to wait on honourable in an Englishman, than any depenhis majesty.

dance whatsoever. I am a plain, blunt inan, Joe. Yes, sir.

[Ereunt. and may possibly, some time or other, offend SCENE II.-The Palace.

your majesty; and where, then, is my subsist

ence? Enter the King, and several Courtiers.

King. And dare you not trust the honour of King. Well, my lords, our old friend, the mil- a king? ler of Mansfield is arrived at last.

Sir John. Without doubt I might trust your Ist Court. Ile has been in town cwo or three inajesty very safely; but, in general, though the days; has not your majesty seen him yet? lionour of kings ought to be more sacred, the

King. No, but I have sent for him to attend humour of kings is like that of other men; and, me this evening: and I design, with only you, when they please to change their mind, who shall my lords, wbo are now present, to entertain iny: dare to call their honour in question self a while with his honest freedom. He will King. Sir John, you are in the right; and Iam be herc.presently,

glad to see you maintain that noble freedom of

spirit: I wish all my subjects were as indepen- | more of this affair another time : but tell me dent on me as you resolve to be ; I should then how you like London? Your son Richard, I rehear more truth and less fattery. But come, member, gave a very satirical description of it; what news ? How does iny lady and your son I hope you are better entertained. Richard ?

Sir John. So we!l, that I assure your majesty, Sir John. I thank your majesty: Margery is I am in admiration and wonder all day long. very well, and so is Dick.

King. Ay! well, let us hear what it is you adKing. I hope you have brought her up to town mire and wonder at. with you?

Sir John. Almost every thing I see or hear of. Sir John. She has displeased me, ot late, very When I see the splendour and magnificence in much.

which some noblemen appear, I admire their King. In what?

riches; but when I hear of their debts, and their Sir John. You shall bear. When I was only nortgages, I wonder at their folly. When I plain John Cockle, the miller of Mansheld, a hear of a dinner costing an hundred pounds, I farmer's son, in the neighbourhood, made love am surprised tbat one man should have so many to my daughter. He was a worthy, honest man. friends to entertain ; but when I am told, that He loved my daughter sincerely; and, to ali ap- it was made only for five or six squeamish lords, pearance, her affections were placed on hiin. 1or piddling ladies, that eat not perhaps an ounce approved of the inatch, and gave him my con- a-piece, I am quite astonished. When I hear of sent. But when your majesty's bounty had raised an estate of twenty or thirty thousand a year, I my fortune and condition, my daughter, Kate, envy the man that has it in his power to do so became Miss Kitty: She grew a fine girl, and much good, and wonder how he disposes of it; was presently taken notice of by the young gen- but when I am told of the necessary expences tlemen of the country. Amongst the rest, Sir of a gentleman in horses and whores, and eating Timothy Flasb, a young, rakish, extravagant and drinking, and dressing and gaming, I am knight, made his addresses to her; his title, his surprised that the poor man is able to live. In dress, his equipage, dazzled ber cyes and her un- short, when I consider our publick credit, our derstanding; and fond, I suppose, of being made honour, our courage, our freedom, our publick a lady, she des pises and forsakes her first lover, spirit, I am surprised, amazed, astonished, and The bonest farmer, and is determined to marry confonnded. this mad, wrong-beaded knight.

1st Cour. Is not this bold, sir? King. And is this the occasion of your dis- Sir John. Perhaps it may; but I suppose his pleasure? I should think you had rather cause to majesty would not have an Englishnan a coward? rejoice that shc was so prudent. What! do you King. Far from it. Let the generous spirit of think it no advantage to your daughter, nor ho- freedom reign unchecked : To speak bis mind, is nour to yourself, lo he allied to so great a man? | the undoubted right of every Briton; and be it

Sir John. It may be an honour to be allied to the glory of my reign, that all my subjects enjoy a great man, when a great man is a man of ho- that honest liberty. "Tis iny wish to redress all nour; but that is not always the case. Besides, grievances; to right all wrongs: But kings, alas ! Dothing that is unjust, can be either prudent or are hut fallible men; errors in government will honourable: And the breaking her faith and pro- happen, as well as failings in private life, and mise with a man that loved, and every way de- ought to be candidly imputed. And let me ask served her, merely for the sake of a little vanily, you one question, Sir John. Do you really think or self-interest, is an action that I am ashamid you could honestly withstand all the temptations my daughter could be guilty of.

that wealth and power would lay before you? King. Why, you are the most extraordinary Sir John. I will not boast before your majesman I ever knew: I have heard of fathers quar- ty; perhaps I could not. Yet give me leave to relling with their children for inarring foolishly say, the man, whom wealth or power can make for love; but you are so singular as to blame a villain, is sure unworthy of possessing either. Foor's for marrying wisely for interest.

King. Suppose self-interest, too, should clash Sir John. Why, I may differ a little from the with publick duty? common practice of my neighbours --- -But, Sir John. Suppose it should : 'Tis always a I bope your majesty does not, therefore, think man's duty to be just; and doubly his with me to blame?

whom the public trust their rights and liberties. King. No: Singularity in the right is never a King, I think so; nay, he, who cannot scorn crime. If you are satisfied your actions are just, the narrow interest of his own poor self, to les the world blush that they are singular. serve his country, and defend her rights, de

Sir John. Nay, and I am, perhaps, not so re- serves not the protection of a couutry to defend gardless of interest as your majesty may appre- his own; at least, should not be trusted with itud. It is very possible a knight, or even a the rights of other men. ord, may be poor as well as a farmer. No of

Sir John. I wish no such were ever trusted. fence, I hope [Turning to the Courtiers.

king. I wish so, too: But how are king's to Cour. No, no, no. Impertinent fellow ! know the hearts of men ?


Sir John. "Tis difficult indeed : yet something Kiug. Well, Sir John, I shall be glad to hear I might be done.

King. What?

King. Sir John, I think so; and, to convince Sir John. The man whom a king employs, or you how much I esteem your plain-dealing and a nation trusts, should be thoroughly tried. Exa- sincerity of heart, receive this ring as a mark of mine his private character: Mark how he lives : my favour. Is he luxurious, or proud, or ambitious, or ex- Sir John. I thank your majesty.. travagant? avoid him: The soul of that man is King. Don't thank me now; at present I have mean ; necessity will press him, and public business that must be dispatched, and will defraud must pay his private debts. But if you sire you to leave me : before 'tis long I'll see find a man with a clear head, sound judgment, you again. and a right honest heart—that is the man to Sir John. I wish your majesty a good night. serve both you and his country.

[Erit. King. You're right; and such by me shall King. Well, my lords, what do you think of ever be distinguished.' Tis both my duty and this miller? my interest to promote them. To such, if I 1st Cour. He talks well: what he is in the give wealth, it will enrich the public; to such, bottom, I don't know. if I give power, the nation will be mighty; to 2d Cour. I'm afraid not sound. such, if I give honour, I shall raise my own. 3d Cour. I fancy he's set on by somebody But surely, Sir John, your’s is not the language, to impose upon your majesty with this fair shew nor the sentiments of a common iniller ; how, in of honesty. a cottage, could you gain this superior wisdom? 1st Cour. Or is not he some cunning knare,

Sir John. Wisdom is not confined to palaces; that wants to work himself into your majesty's nor always to be bought with gold. I read often, favour? and think sometimes, and he who does that, King. I have a fancy come into my head to may gain some knowledge, even in a cottage. try him; which I'll communicate to you, apd put As for any think superior, I pretend not to it. in execution immediately. An hour hence, my What I have said, I hope, is plain good sense, lords, I shall expect to see you at Sir Jobn's. at least 'tis honest, and well meant.



SCENE I.-A Tavern.

falsehood to me is to be punished? I will prevent thy rain, however,

[Erit. Sir TIMOTHY Flash, the Landlord, and GREENWOOD.

Sir Timothy sings.
Sir Tim. Honest Bacchus, how dost thou do? O the pleasing, pleasing, joys,
Land. Sir, I am very glad to see you; pray,

Which in women we possess ! when did you come to town?

O the raptures which arise ! Sir Tim. Yesterday; and on an affair that I

They alone have power to bless! shall want a little of your assistance in.

Beauty smiling, Land. Any thing in my power, you know,

Wit beguiling, you may command.

Kindness charming, Sir Tim. You must know then, I have an in

Fancy warming, trigue with a young lady that's just come to

Kissing, toying, town with her father, and want an agreeable

Melting, dying house to meet her at; can you recommend one

(the raptures which arise ! to me?

O the pleasing, pleasing joys ! Land. I can recommend you, sir, to the most Land. You are a inerry wag. convenient woman in all London. What ibiok

Sir Tim. Marry, ay! why what is life without you of Mrs. Wheedle ? Sir Tim. The best woman in all the world; this letter, and then, honest Bacchus, we'll taste

enjoying the pleasures of it? Come, I'll write I know her very well; how could I be so stupid what wine thou hast got. not to think of her? Greenwood, do you know

[Ereunt. where our country neighbour, Sir John Cockle,

SCENE II.-A Room. ladges? Green. Yes, sir,

Miss Kitty and Mrs. STARCH. Sir Tim. Don't be out of the way then; I Kitty. But pray, Mrs. Starch, does all new fashall send a letter by you presently, which you shions come up first at courl? must deliver privately into Miss Kitty's own Mrs. Starch. O, dear madam, yes. They do havid. If she comes with you, I shall give you nothing else there but study new fashions. That's directions where to conduct her, and do you what the court is for: And we milliners, and taicome back here and let me koow.

lors, and barbers, and mantua-makers, go there Green. Yes, sir. Poor Kitty! is it thas thy I to learn fashions for the good of the public.


False sorrow,

Killy. But, madam ; was not you saying just Enter Sir John, observing them. Dow, that it was the fashion for the ladies to paint theniselves?

Kitty. And is not this a very pretty cap, too? Mrs. Sturch. Yes.

Does not it become me? Kitty. Well, that is pure; then one may be

Mrs. Starch. Yes, madam. as handsome as ever one will, you know. And

Kitty. But don't you think this hoop a little if it was not for a few freckles, I believe I too big? should be very well; should not I, Mrs. Starch?

Sir John. No, no; too big! no. Not above six Mis. Starch. Indeed, madam, you are very

or seven yards round. handsome.

Mrs. Starch. Indeed, sir, 'tis within the cirhilly. Nay, don't Aatter me now; do you

cumference of the mode a great deal. really think I am bandsoine ?

Sir John. That it may be, but I'm sure it's beJlrs. Starch. Upon my word, you are. What yond the circumference of modesty a great deal. a shape is there! What a gentecl air! What a

Kitty. Lord, papa, can't you dress yourself as sparkliug eye!

you've a miod, and let us alone? How should Kitly. Indeed, I doubt you flatter me. Not you know any thing of womens' fashions? Come, but I have an eye, and can make use of it too,

let us go into the next room. as well as the best of them, if I please.

[Exeunt Miss Ketty and Mrs. STARCH. SONG.

Enter Joe with GREENWOOD.
Though born in a country town,

Joe. Sir, here's one that you'll be very glad to
The beaulies of London unknown,
My heart is as tender,

Sir John. Who is it? -What, honest Green-
My waist is as slender,

wood ! May I believe my eyes? Ny skin is as white,

Green. Sir, I am very glad to see you; I hope My eyes are as bright

all your family are well. As the best of them all,

Sir John. Very well. But, for Heaven's sake, That twinkle or sparkle at court or at ball. what has brought thee to London? What's the I can ogle and sigh,

meaning of this livery? I don't understand thee. Then frown and be

Green. I don't wonder that you are surprised? coy;

but I will explain myself. You know the faithΝοτυ borrow,

ful, honest love I bear your daughter; and you , And rise in a rage ;

are sensible, since the addresses of Sir Timothy Then lunguish,

Flash, how much her falsehood has grieved me; In anguish,

yet more for her sake, even than my own : my And softly, and softly engage.

own unhappiness I could endure with patience,

but the thoughts of seeing her reduced to shame But pray, Mrs. Starch, which do you think the and misery, I cannot bear. most genteel walk now? To trip it away o'this

Sir John. What dost thou mean? manner, or to swim smouthly along thus? Green. I very much suspect his desigus upon

jfrs. Starch. They both become you extreme- her are not honcurable. ly.

Sir John. Not honourable! he dare not wrong Kitty. Do they really ? I'm glad you think so, me so ! But, go on. for, indeed, I believe, you are a very good judge. Green. Immediately after you had left the And, now I think on't, I'll bave your opinion in country, hearing that he was hastening to Lonsoruething else. What do you think it is that don after you, and wanted a servavt, I went and makes a tine lady?

offered myself, resolving, by a strict watch on all Mrs. Starch. Why, madam, a fine person, fine his actions, to prevent, if possible, the ruin of wit, fine airs, and fine clothes.

her I cannot but lore, how ill soever I have been Kitty. Well, you have told me already that treated. Not knowing me to be his rival, he I'm very handsome, you know, so that's one brought me along with him. We arrived in Louthing; but, as for wit, what's thai? I don't know don yesterday, and I am now sent by him to give what that is, Mrs. Starch.

your daughter privately this letter. Mrs. Starch. O madam, wit is, as one may say

Sir John. What can it tend to? I know not Line-the being very witry; chat is what to think; but it I find he dares to mean mo comical as it were; doing something to make wrong, by this good handEvery body laugh.

Green. Then let me tell ye, he means you Kitty. O, is that all? nay, then, I can be as villainous wrong. The ruin of your daughter is witty as any body, for I am very comical. Well

, contrived; I heard the plot; and this very letter but shat's the next? fine airs: 0, let me alone is to put it in execution. for tine airs ; I have airs enough, if I can bus get Sir John. What shall I do? lorers to practise them upon.

And then, fine Green, Leave all to me. I'll deliver the letclothes ; uby, these are very tine clothes

, I think;ter, and, by her behaviour, we shall know better don't you think so, Mrs. Starch?

how to take our cusures. But how shall I see Jis. Starch. Yes, madam.


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