Wild Oats
Wild Oats
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Language: English
WILD OATS;
OR,
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS;
AS PERFORMED AT THE
BY
JOHN O'KEEFFE, ESQ.
WITH REMARKS
BY MRS. INCHBALD.
LONDON:
REMARKS.
With a double respect for talents, and for misfortune, these remarks are begun.
The present comedy is written by O'Keeffe, who saw not the traces of his pen
as he marked the paper; whose days pass away, uncheered by the sun or any
visible object; but whose mind supports with resignation his bitter calamity, and
is enlightened by imagination, whilst his eyes are shut in utter darkness.
Were each close imitator of an author's style punishable by law, like the
perpetrator of other wrongs, Mr. O'Keeffe might have been an independent,
though not a happy man; for that source of a new kind of mirth, termed by some
exquisite nonsense, of which he was the first discoverer, made the town so
merry, that, like good wine, he might have sold it at any price; but this rich juice
of hilarity, polluted by the false spirit of imitation, at length gave a stupor to
those, whom the beverage had before revived; and the pure and the adulterated
became distasteful together.
This comedy is the only attempt of the author to produce a drama above opera
and farce. His productions, in the latter species of writing, are perfect
compositions: nothing of the kind can be superior to his "Agreeable Surprise,"
and his "Son-in-Law." He has a number of other farces of little less attraction;
such as "Peeping Tom."—Another class after that, and each possessing infinite
fancy, whim, and novelty. Still success did not follow all his productions: a few
years past he wrote very frequently, and sometimes too hastily.
On the first night of representing any of those whimsical dramas, amidst loud
peals of laughter at the comic dialogue or incidents, there was generally a most
affecting spectacle behind the curtain. O'Keeffe, stone-blind, (not an affliction of
birth, but of late years) led by his little son, as a guide, down to the stage-door—
to the lock of which he would anxiously place his ear to catch the quickest
information how his work was received—and when, unhappily hisses from the
audience would sound louder than applause—in strong agitation he would press
his hands to each side of his head, as if he had yet one sense too much. Thus he
would remain, without sight or hearing, till some unexpected sally of humour in
his drama once more put the house in good temper, and they would begin to
laugh and applaud;—on which, his son, rapid as lightning, would pull him by the
elbow, and cry out, "Now, father, listen again."
In Ephraim, the quaker, the spirit moved Munden—as it always does—to act
just as he should do.
Quick was on the London stage when this play was first performed, and
though Sir George Thunder was by no means a part best suited to his abilities—
yet Quick gave comic importance to all he undertook.
Mr. Thomas Blanchard, since dead, played the little part of Sim with
wond'rous skill.
And the silly Jane can never have so good a representative as Mrs. Wells.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
SCENE,—Part of Hampshire.
WILD OATS.
John. Fine cruizing this! without flip or biscuit! don't know who's the
Governor of this here fort; but if he can victual us a few—how hollow my bread
room sounds! [Striking his sides.] I'm as empty as a stoved keg, and as tired as
an old Dutchman—my obstinate master, Sir George, to tow my old hulk—
aboard the house, ha, hoy!
Sir Geo. I don't know who's house we've got into here, John; but I think, when
he knows me, we may hope for some refreshment—Eh! [Looking at JOHN.] was
not I your captain?
John. Yes; and I was your boatswain. And what of all that?
Sir Geo. Then how dare you sit in my presence, you bluff head?
John. Why, for the matter of that, I don't mind; but had I been your captain,
and you my boatswain, the man, that stood by me at sea, should be welcome to
sit before me at land.
Sir Geo. That's true, my dear John; offer to stand up, and, damme, if I don't
knock you down—zounds! I am as dry as a powder match—to sail at the rate of
ten knots an hour, over fallow and stubble, from my own house, but half a league
on this side of Gosport, and not catch these deserters!
Sir Geo. How, sirrah! hasn't my dear old friend, Dick Broadside, got the
command of the ship I so often fought myself—to man it for him with
expedition, didn't I (out of my own pocket) offer two guineas over the king's
bounty to every seaman that would enter on board her? Hav'n't these three
scoundrels fingered the shot, then ran, and didn't I do right to run after them?
Damn the money! I no more mind that than a piece of clinker; but 'twas the pride
of my heart to see my beloved ship (the Eagle) well mann'd, when my old friend
is the commander.
John. But since you've laid yourself up in ordinary, retired to live in quiet, on
your estate, and had done with all sea affairs—
Sir Geo. John, John, a man should forget his own convenience for his
country's good.—Though Broadside's letter said these fellows were lurking
about this part of Hampshire, yet still it's all hide and seek.
John. Ay, you've money and gold; but grace and good fortune have shook
hands with you these nineteen years, for that rogue's trick you play'd poor Miss
Amelia, by deceiving her with a sham marriage, when you passed yourself for
Captain Seymour, and then putting off to sea, leaving her to break her poor heart,
and since marrying another lady.
Sir Geo. Why, you impudent dog-fish!—upbraid me for running into false bay,
when you were my pilot? Wasn't it you, even brought me the false clergyman
that performed the sham marriage with Amelia?
John. Yes, you think so; but I took care to bring you a real clergyman.
Sir Geo. But is this a time or place for your lectures? At home, abroad, sea, or
land, you will still badger me! mention my Wild Oats again and—you scoundrel,
since the night my bedcurtains took fire, when you were my boatswain aboard
the Eagle, you've got me quite into leading strings—you snatched me upon deck,
and tossed me into the sea,—to save me from being burnt, I was almost
drowned.
Sir Geo. Yes, you dragged me out by the ear, like a waterdog—last week,
'cause you found the tenth bottle uncorked, you rushed in among my friends, and
ran away with me; and, next morning Captain O'Shanaghan sends me a
challenge for quitting the company, when he was in the chair! so, to save me
from a headach, you'd like to've got my brains blown out.
John. Oh, very well; be burnt in your bed, and tumble in the water, by
jumping into boats, like a tight fellow as you are, and poison yourself with sloe
juice; see if John cares a piece of mouldy biscuit about it. But I wish you hadn't
made me your valet de shamber. No sooner was I got on shore, after five years
dashing among rocks, shoals, and breakers, than you sets me on a high-trotting
cart horse, which knockt me up and down like an old bomb-boat in the Bay of
Biscay, and here's nothing to drink after all! Because at home you keep open
house, you think every body else does the same.
Sir Geo. Why, by sailing into this strange port, we may be more free than
welcome.
John. Holla! I'll never cease piping, 'till it calls up a drop to wet my whistle.
[Exit.
Sir Geo. Yes, (as John Dory remarks) I fear my trip through life will be
attended with heavy squalls and foul weather. When my conduct to poor Amelia
comes athwart my mind, it's a hurricane for that day, and turn in at night, the
ballad of "Margaret and William," rings in my ear. [Sings.] "In glided Margaret's
grimly ghost." Oh, zounds! the dismals are coming upon me, and can't get a
cheering glass to—holloa!
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha! man and woman! then if you'll bring me Mr. Brandy and
Mrs. Water, we'll couple them, and the first child probably will be Master Grog.
Sir Geo. Sheer off with your sanctified poop, and send the gentleman of the
house.
Sir Geo. Is it possible you can be my niece, Lady Maria Amaranth Thunder?
Lady Am. I am the daughter of thy deceased brother Loftus, called Earl
Thunder, but no lady, my name is Mary.
Sir Geo. But, zounds! how is all this? Eh! unexpectedly find you in a strange
house, of which old Sly here tells me you're the mistress; turned quaker, and
disclaim your title!
Lady Am. Thou know'st the relation to whose care my father left me?
Sir Geo. Well! I know our cousin, old Dovehouse, was a quaker! but I didn't
suspect he would have made you one.
Lady Am. Being now gathered to his fathers, he did bequeath unto me his
worldly goods; amongst them this mansion, and the lands around it.
Eph. So thou becom'st and continue one of the faithful. I am executor of his
will, and by it, I cannot give thee, Mary, possession of these goods, but on those
conditions.
Sir Geo. Tell me of your thee's and thou's, quaker's wills and mansions! I say,
girl, though on the death of your father, my eldest brother, Loftus, Earl Thunder,
from your being a female, his title devolved to his next brother, Robert; though,
as a woman, you can't be an earl, nor as a woman, you can't make laws for your
sex and our sex, yet, as the daughter of a peer, you are, and, by Heaven, shall be
called Lady Maria Amaranth Thunder.
Sir Geo. Call me friend, and I'll bump your block against the capstern.
Eph. Yea, this is a man of danger, and I will leave Mary to abide it. [Exit.
Enter ZACHARIAH.
Zach. Shall thy cook, this day, roast certain birds of the air, call'd woodcocks,
and ribs of the oxen likewise?
Lady Am. All. My uncle sojourneth with me peradventure, and my meal shall
be a feast, friend Zachariah.
Sir Geo. [Strikes him.] Sir George Thunder bids thee remember to call your
mistress, Lady Amaranth.
Zach. Verily, George.
Sir Geo. George! sirrah, though a younger brother, the honour of knighthood
was my reward for placing the glorious British flag over that of a daring enemy
—therefore address me with respect.
Sir Geo. George and Mary! here's levelling, here's abolition of title with a
vengeance!
Lady Am. Kinsman, be patient; thou, and thy son, my cousin Henry, whom I
have not beheld, I think, these twelve years, shall be welcome to my dwelling.
Where now abideth the youth?
Sir Geo. What, to make a quaker of him?—No, no. But, hold, as she's now a
wealthy heiress, her marrying my son Harry, will keep up and preserve her title
in our own family too. [Aside.] Would'st thou really be glad to see him? thou
shalt, Mary. Ha, ha, ha! John Dory! [Calling.] Here comes my valet de chambre.
Sir Geo. Avast, old man of war; you must instantly convoy my son from
Portsmouth.
John. Then I must first convoy him to Portsmouth, for he happens to be out of
the dock already.
Sir Geo. Damn your sea jaw, you marvellous dolphin, give the contents of
your logbook in plain English.
John. Got leave to come to you: and master didn't find out before yesterday,
that, instead of making for home, he had sheer'd off towards London; directly
sent notice to you, and Sam has traced us all the way here to bring you the news.
Sir Geo. What, a boy of mine quit his guns? I'll grapple him.—Come, John.
Sir Geo. No, thank ye, my lady. Let your equipage keep up your own dignity. I
have horses here; but I won't knock 'em up; next village is the channel for the
stage—My lady, I'll bring the dog to you by the bowsprit.—Weigh anchor!
crowd sail! and after him! [Exit.
Eph. The man of noise doth not tarry, then my spirit is glad.
Lady Am. Let Sarah prepare chambers for my kinsman, and hire the maiden
for me that thou didst mention.
Eph. I will; for this damsel is passing fair, and hath found grace in mine eyes.
Mary, as thou art yet a stranger in this land, and just taken possession of this
estate, the laws of society command thee to be on terms of amity with thy
wealthy neighbours.
Lady Am. Yea; but while I entertain the rich, the hearts of the poor shall also
rejoice; I myself will now go forth into the adjacent hamlet, and invite all that
cometh, to hearty cheer.
Lady Am. And meat and drink too, friend Ephraim. In the fulness of plenty,
they shall join in thanksgiving for those gifts of which I am so unworthy.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Road.
Midge. I'm sure I don't know. As you desired, I paid for our breakfast. But the
devil's in that fellow; every inn we stop at, he will always hang behind,
chattering to the bar-maid, or chamber-maid.
Harry. Or any, or no maid. But he's a worthy lad; and I love him better, I
think, than my own brother, had I one.
Harry. Stop, Midge. Though 'twas my orders, when I set out on this scamper
with the players, (the better to conceal my quality,) for you, before people, to
treat me as your companion; yet, at the same time, you should have had
discretion enough to remember, when we're alone, that I am still your master,
and son to Sir George Thunder.
Midge. Sir, I ask your pardon; but by making yourself my equal, I've got so
used to familiarity, that I find it curst hard to shake it off.
Harry. Well, sir, pray mind, that familiarity is all over now. My frolic's out, I
now throw off the player, and shall directly return. My father must by this time,
have heard of my departure from the academy at Portsmouth; and, though I was
deluded away by my rage for a little acting, yet 'twas wrong of me to give the
gay old fellow any cause of uneasiness.
Midge. And, sir, shall you and I never act another scene together? Shall I
never again play Colonel Standard for my own benefit? Never again have the
pleasure of caning your honour in the character of Tom Errand.
Harry. In future, act the part of a smart hat and coat brusher; or I shall have
the honour of kicking you in the character of an idle puppy. You were a good
servant; but I find, by letting you crack your jokes, and sit in my company,
you're grown quite a rascal.
Midge. Yes, sir, I was a modest, well behaved lad; but evil communication
corrupts good manners.
Harry. Well, if my father but forgives me.—This three month's excursion has
shewn me some life, and a devilish deal of fun. For one circumstance, I shall
ever remember it with delight. Its bringing me acquainted with Jack Rover. How
long he stays! Jack! In this forlorn stroller, I have discovered qualities that
honour human nature, and accomplishments that might grace a prince. I don't
know a pleasanter fellow, except when he gets to his abominable habit of
quotation. I hope he will not find the purse I've hid in his coat pocket, before we
part. I dread the moment, but it's come.
Harry. Ay, here's the rattle. Hurried on by the impetuous flow of his own
volatile spirits, his life is a rapid stream of extravagant whim; and while the
serious voice of humanity prompts his heart to the best of actions, his features
shine in laugh and levity. Studying Bays, eh, Jack?
Enter ROVER.
Harry. [Aside.] I am, if he knew but all.—Keep one standing in the road.
Rover. Beg your pardon, my dear Dick; but all the fault of—Plague on't, that a
man can't sleep and breakfast at an inn, then return up to his bedchamber for his
gloves that he'd forgot, but there he must find chambermaids, thumping feathers
and knocking pillows about, and keep one when one has affairs and business.
'Pon my soul, these girls' conduct to us is intolerable. The very thought brings
the blood into my face, and whenever they attempt to serve, provoke me so,
damme but I will, I will—An't I right, Dick?
Rover. No matter, Dick; that's the universal play "all round the wrekin:" but
you are so conceited, because, by this company you're going to join at
Winchester, you are engaged for high tragedy.
Rover. Our first play is Lear. I was devilish imperfect in Edgar, t'other night at
Lymington. I must look it over. [Takes out a book.] "Away, the foul fiend follows
me!" Hollo! stop a moment, we shall have the whole county after us. [Going.
Rover. Paid! why, neither you nor Midge had money enough. No, really!
Rover. You paid? Oh, very well. Every honest fellow should be a stock purse.
Come then, let's push on now. Ten miles to Winchester; we shall be there by
eleven.
Harry. Our trunks are booked at the inn for the Winchester coach.
Rover. "Ay, to foreign climates my old trunk I bear." But I prefer walking to
the car of Thespis.
Harry. Which is the way?
Rover. Here.
Rover. Eh!
Harry. My dear boy, on this spot, and at this moment, we must part.
Rover. Part!
Rover. Well, and suppose so. Part, eh! What mystery and grand? What are you
at? Do you forget,—you, Midge, and I, are engaged to Truncheon, the manager,
and that the bills are already up with our names to-night to play at Winchester?
Harry. Jack, you and I have often met on a stage in assumed characters; if it's
your wish we should ever meet again in our real ones, of sincere friends, without
asking whither I go, or my motives for leaving you, when I walk up this road, do
you turn down that.
Rover. Joke!
Rover. If you repent your engagement with Truncheon, I'll break off too, and
go with you wherever—[Takes him under the arm.]
Rover. Eh!
Rover. Have I done any thing to Dick Buskin? leave me! [Turns and puts his
handkerchief to his eyes.]
F. Gam. Well, Master Ephraim, I may depend on thee, as you quakers never
break your words.
Eph. I have spoken to Mary, and she, at my request, consenteth to take thy
daughter, Jane, as her handmaid.
Eph. Goodness I do like, and also—comely Jane. [Aside.] The maiden I will
prefer, for the sake of—myself. [Aside.]
F. Gam. I intended to make a present to the person that does me such a piece
of service; but I shan't affront you with it.
Enter SIM.
Enter JANE, from the house, with linen she had been
working.
F. Gam. I often told you both, (but it's now settled) you must go out into the
world, and work for your bread.
Sim. Well, feyther, whatever you think right, must be so, and I'm content.
Jane. And I'm sure, feyther, I'm willing to do as you'd have me.
F. Gam. There's ingratitude for you! When my wife died, I brought you both
up from the shell, and now you want to fly off and forsake me.
Sim. Why no; I'm willing to live with you all my days.
Jane. And I'm sure, feyther, if it's your desire I'll never part from you.
F. Gam. What, you want to hang upon me like a couple of leeches, ay, to strip
my branches, and leave me a wither'd hawthorn! See who's yon.
[Exit SIM.
F. Gam. My being incumbred with you both is the cause why old Banks won't
give me his sister.
F. Gam. However, if Banks still refuses, I have him in my power. I'll turn them
both out of their cottage yonder, and the bailiff shall provide them with a
lodging.
Enter BANKS.
Banks. Then I dare say she won't, for though a woman, I never knew her to
speak what she didn't think.
F. Gam. Then she won't have me? A fine thing this, that you and she, who are
little better than paupers, dare be so damn'd saucy!
Banks. Why, farmer, I confess we're poor: but while that's the worst our
enemies can say of us, we're content.
F. Gam. Od, dom it! I wish I had now a good, fair occasion to quarrel with
him; I'd make him content with a devil to him; I'd knock'en down, send him to
jail and—But I'll be up with him!
Enter SIM.
Sim. Oh, feyther, here's one Mr. Lamp, a ring-leader of showfolks come from
Andover to act in our village. He wants a barn to play in, if you'll hire him
yourn.
F. Gam. Surely, boy. I'll never refuse money. But, lest he should engage the
great room in the inn, run thou and tell him—Stop, I'll go myself—A short cut
through that garden.—
Banks. What?
Sim. Dang it, I'm as yet but young; but if understanding teaches me how to
wrong my neighbour, I hope I may never live to years of discretion.
F. Gam. What, you cur, do you disobey your feyther? Burst open the garden
gate, as I command you.
Sim. Feyther, he, that made both you and the garden, commands me not to
injure the unfortunate.
Banks. [Stands before it.] Hold, neighbour. Small as this spot is, it's now my
only possession: and the man shall first take my life, who sets a foot in it against
my will.
F. Gam. Plague of the wench! But, you hussey, I'll—and you, you unlucky
bird!
Rover. Zounds! here's a pelting shower, and no shelter! "Poor Tom's a-cold;"
I'm wet through—Oh, here's a fair promising house. [Going to Gammon's.]
F. Gam. [Stops him.] Hold, my lad. Can't let folks in, till I know who are they.
There's a public house not above a mile on.
Banks. Step in here, young man; my fire is small, but it shall cheer you with a
hearty welcome.
Rover. [To BANKS.] The poor cottager! [To GAMMON.] And the substantial
farmer! [Kneels.] "Hear, Nature, dear goddess, hear! If ever you designed to
make his corn-fields fruitful, change thy purpose; that, from the blighted ear no
grain may fall to fat his stubble goose—and, when to town he drives his hogs, so
like himself, oh, let him feel the soaking rain; then may he curse his crime too
late, and know how sharper than a serpent's tooth 'tis"—Damme, but I'm
spouting in the rain all this time.
F. Gam. Ay, neighbour, you'll soon scratch a beggar's head, if you harbour
every mad vagrant. This may be one of the footpads, that, it seems, have got
about the country; but I'll have an execution, and seize on thy goods, this day,
my charitable neighbour! Eh, the sun strikes out, quite cleared up.
Enter JANE.
F. Gam. Her ladyship is coming out, and walks this way.—She may wish to
rest herself in my house. Jane, we must always make rich folks welcome.
Jane. Dear me, I'll run in and set things to rights. But, feyther, your cravat and
wig are all got so rumplified with your cross-grained tantarums.—I'll tie your
neck in a big beau, and for your wig, if there is any flour in the drudging box—
[Adjusts them, and runs into the house.]
Enter TWITCH.
Twitch. Well, Master Gammon, as you desir'd, I'm come to serve this here
warrant of yours, and arrest Master Banks; where is he?
F. Gam. Yes, now I be's determined on't—he's—zounds! stand aside, I'll speak
to you anon. [Looking out.]
Lady Am. Being yet a stranger on my estate around here, I have passed
through thy hamlet to behold with mine own eye the distresses of my poor
tenants. I wish to relieve their wants.
F. Gam. Right, your ladyship: for charity hides a deal of sins. How good of
you to think of the poor! that's so like me; I'm always contriving how to relieve
my neighbours—you must lay Banks in jail to-night. [Apart to TWITCH.]
Enter JANE.
Jane. A'nt please you, will your ladyship enter our humble dwelling, and rest
your ladyship in feyther's great cane bottom'd elbow chair with a high back.
[Curtsies.]
F. Gam. Do, my lady. To receive so great a body from her own chariot is an
honour I dreamt not of; though, for the hungry and weary foot traveller, my
doors are always open, and my morsel ready. Knock; when he comes out, touch
him. [Aside to TWITCH.]
Lady Am. Thou art benevolent, and I will enter thy dwelling with satisfaction.
Twitch. Eh, where's the warrant? [Feels his pocket, and knocks at BANKS'S
door.]
Enter BANKS.
Banks. Me!
Twitch. Yes; Farmer Gammon has bought a thirty pound note of hand of yours.
Banks. Indeed! Well, I didn't think his malice could have stretched so far—I
thought the love, he professed for my sister, might—why, it is true, Master
Twitch, to lend our indigent cottagers small sums when they've been unable to
pay their rents, I got lawyer Quirk to procure me this money, and hoped their
industry would have put it in my power to take up my note before now.
However, I'll go round and try what they can do, then call on you and settle it.
Twitch. You'd best not make a noise, but come. [To BANKS.]
Enter ROVER.
Rover. Oh, you're here? Rain over—quite fine—I'll take a sniff of the open air
too—Eh, what's the matter?
Banks. Nay, my dear sir, I'd wish you not to bring yourself into trouble about
me.
Twitch. Now, since you don't know what's civil, if the debt's not paid directly,
to jail you go.
Rover. My kind, hospitable good old man to jail! What's the amount, you
scoundrel.
Rover. Stop; utter you a word good or bad, except to tell me what's your
demand upon this gentleman, and I'll give you the greatest beating you ever got
since the hour you commenced rascal. [In a low tone.]
Rover. You'll get nothing by it. Do you know, you villain, that I am this
moment the greatest man living?
Rover. "I am the bold Thunder!" Sirrah, know that I carry my purse of gold in
my coat-pocket. Though damme if I know how a purse came there. [Aside, and
takes it out.] There's twenty pictures of his majesty; therefore, in the king's
name, I free his liege subject; [Takes Banks away.] and now who am I? Ah, ah!
Twitch. Ten pieces short, my master; but if you're a housekeeper I'll take this
and your bail.
Rover. Then for bail you must have a housekeeper? What's to be done!
Enter GAMMON.
Ah, here's old hospitality! I know you've a house, though your fire side was too
warm for me. Lookye, here's some rapacious, griping rascal, has had this worthy
gentleman arrested. Now a certain, good-for-nothing, rattling fellow has paid
twenty guineas; you pass your word for the other nine, we'll step back into the
old gentleman's friendly house, and over his currant wine, our first toast shall be,
liberty to the honest debtor, and confusion to the hard hearted creditor.
Gam. I shan't.
F. Gam. Gammon.
[Exit F. GAMMON.
Rover. A lady! Ma'am, your most obedient humble servant. [Bows.] A quaker
too! They are generally kind and humane, and that face is the prologue to a play
of a thousand good acts—may be she'd help us here. [Aside.] Ma'am, you must
know that—that I—no—this gentleman—I mean this gentleman and I—He got a
little behind hand, as every honest, well principled man often may, from—bad
harvests and rains—lodging corn—and his cattle—from murrain, and—rot the
murrain! you know this is the way all this affair happened, [To Banks.] and then
up steps this gentleman, [To Twitch.] with a—a tip in his way—madam, you
understand? And then in steps I—with my a—In short, madam, I am the worst
story teller in the world, where myself is the hero of the tale.
Twitch. Mr. Banks has been arrested for thirty pounds, and this gentleman has
paid twenty guineas of the debt.
Lady Am. The young man and maiden within, have spoken well of thy sister,
and pictured thee as a man of irreproachable morals, though unfortunate.
Rover. Madam, he's the honestest fellow—I've known him above forty years,
he has the best hand at stirring a fire—If you was only to taste his currant wine.
Banks. Madam, I never aspired to an enviable rank in life: but hitherto pride
and prudence kept me above the reach of pity: but obligations from a stranger—
Lady Am. He really a stranger, and attempt to free thee? But, friend, [To
Rover.] thou hast assumed a right which here belongeth alone to me. As I enjoy
the blessings which these lands produce, I own also the heart delighting privilege
of dispensing those blessings to the wretched. Thou mad'st thyself my worldly
banker, and no cash of mine in thine hands, [Takes a note from a pocket book.]
but thus I balance our account. [Offers it.]
Rover. "Madam, my master pays me, nor can I take money from another hand,
without injuring his honour, and disobeying his commands."
[Runs off.
Banks. But, sir, I insist you'll return him his money. [To Twitch.] Stop!
[Going.]
Lady Am. A profane stage-player with such a gentle, generous heart! Yet so
whimsically wild, like the unconscious rose, modestly shrinking from the
recollection of its own grace and sweetness.
Jane. Now, my lady, I'm fit to attend your ladyship. I look so genteelish,
mayhap her ladyship may take me home with her.
Lady Am. This maiden may find out for me whither he goeth. [Aside.] Call on
my steward, and thy legal demands shall be satisfied. [To Twitch.]
Jane. Here, coachman, drive up my lady's chariot, nearer to our door. [Calls
off.] Charott! If she'd take me with her, la! how all the folks will stare. [Aside.]
Madam, though the roads are so very dusty, I'll walk all the way on foot to your
ladyship's house—ay, though I should spoil my bran new petticoat.
Lady Am. Rather than sully thy garment, thou shalt be seated by me. Friend,
be cheerful; thine and thy sister's sorrows shall be but an April shower.
Enter SIM.
Sim. Us! Come, come, Jane, I've the little tilt cart to carry you.
SCENE II.
Before an Inn.
Enter ROVER and WAITER.
Rover. Hillo! friend, when does the coach set out for London?
Rover. That's lucky! Then my trunk is here still. Go I will not. Since I've lost
the fellowship of my friend Dick, I'll travel no more, I'll try a London audience,
who knows but I may get an engagement. This celestial lady quaker! She must
be rich, and ridiculous for such a poor dog as I am, even to think of her. How
Dick would laugh at me if he knew—I dare say by this she has released my kind
host from the gripe—I should like to be certain, though.
Enter LANDLORD.
Land. You'll dine here, sir? I'm honest Bob Johnstone; kept the Sun these
twenty years. Excellent dinner on table at two.
Rover. "Yet my love indeed is appetite; I'm as hungry as the sea, and can
digest as much."
Land. Then you won't do for my shilling ordinary, sir; there's a very good
ordinary at the Saracen's head, at the end of the town. Shou'dn't have thought
indeed, hungry foot travellers to eat like——coming, sir. [Exit.
Rover. I'll not join this company at Winchester. I will take a touch at a London
theatre. The public there are candid and generous, and before my merit can have
time to create enemies, I'll save money, and,—"a fig for the Sultan and Sophy."
Rover. But if I fail, by Heaven I'll overwhelm the manager, his empire, and
—"himself in one prodigious ruin."
Jane. Ruin! Oh Lord! [Runs back.]
Sim. What can you expect, when you follow young men? I've dodg'd you all
the way.
Jane. It was—I won't tell it's my lady, 'cause she bid me not. [Aside.]
Sim. I'll keep you from sheame—a fine life I should have in the parish, rare
fleering, if a sister of moine should stand some Sunday at church in a white
sheet, and to all their flouts what could I say?
Rover. Thus, "I say my sister's wrong'd, my sister Blowsabella, born as high
and noble as the attorney—do her justice, or by the gods I'll lay a scene of blood,
shall make this haymow horrible to Beebles."—"Say that, Chamont."
Sim. I believe it's full moon. You go hoame to your place, and moind your
business.
Jane. My lady will be so pleas'd I found him! I don't wonder at it, he's such a
fine spoken man.
Sim. Dang it! Will you stand here grinning at the wild bucks.
Jane. Perhaps the gentleman might wish to send her ladyship a compliment.
An't please you, sir, if it's even a kiss between us two, it shall go safe; for, though
you should give it me, brother Sim then can take it to my lady.
Rover. "No way but this, killing myself to die upon a kiss!" [Advancing.]
Rover. "Ay; to a nunnery go to." I'm cursedly out of spirits; but hang sorrow, I
may as well divert myself.—"'Tis meat and drink for me to see a
clown."—"Shepherd, was't ever at Court?"
Sim. Not I.
Sim. Eh!
Rover. Ay, "thou art damn'd like an ill roasted egg—all on one side."—Little
Hospitality.
[Looking out.
F. Gam. Eh, where's the showman, that wants to hire my barn? So, Madam
Jane, I place her out to sarvice, and instead of attending her mistress, she gets
gallopping all about the village.—How's this, son?
Rover. "Your son? Young Clodpate, take him to your wheat stack, and there
teach him manners."
F. Gam. Ah, thou'rt the fellow that would bolt out of the dirty roads into
people's houses. Ho, ho, ho! Sim's schooling is mightily thrown away if he hasn't
more manners than thou.
Sim. Why, feyther, it is! Gadzooks, he be one of the play! Acted Tom Fool, in
King Larry, at Lymington, t'other night—I thought I know'd the face, thof he had
a straw cap, and a blanket about'n—Ho, ho! how comical that was when you said
—
F. Gam. Hold your tongue, boy! I believe he's no better than he should be. The
moment I saw him, says I to myself, you are a rogue.
Rover. There you spoke truth for once in your life.
F. Gam. I'm glad to hear you confess it. But her ladyship shall have the
vagrants whipp'd out of the country.
Rover. Vagrant! "Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee!" "Only squint, and, by
Heaven, I'll beat thy blown body till it rebounds like a tennis ball."
Sim. Beat my feyther! No, no. Thou must first beat me. [Puts himself in a
posture of defence.]
Rover. [Aside, with great feeling.] "Though love cool, friendship fall off,
brothers divide, subjects rebel, oh! never let the sacred bond be crack'd 'twixt son
and father!"—I never knew a father's protection, never had a father to protect.
[Puts his handkerchief to his eyes.]
Land. I've just opened a bottle for him and t'other in the parlour.
Rover. "Go, father, with thy son; give him a livery more guarded than his
fellows."
Sim. Livery! Why, I be no sarvant man, though sister Jane is. Gi's thy hand.
[To Rover.] I don't know how 'tis; but I think I could lose my life for him; but
mustn't let feyther be lickt though—No, no! [Going, turns and looks at Rover.]
Ecod, I ne'er shall forget Pillicock!
Rover. Thou art an honest reptile, I'll make my entrée on the London boards in
Bayes, yes, I shall have no comparison against me. "Egad, it's very hard that a
gentleman and an author can't come to teach them, but he must break his nose,
and—and—all that—but—so the players are gone to dinner."
Land. No such people frequent the Sun, I assure you.
Rover. "Sun, moon, and stars!"—Now mind the eclipse, Mr. Johnson.
Rover. "There's the sun between the earth and moon—there's the moon
between the earth and the sun, tol, lol, lol! dance the hay! Luna means to show
her tail."
Enter WAITER.
Rover. "I attend them, were they twenty times our mother."
Rover. Say I attend them with all respect and duty. [Exit Waiter.
Land. Sir, you go in the stage; as we book the passengers, what name?
John. I want two places in the stage coach, because I and another gentleman
are going a voyage.
John. Avast! I go aloft. But let's see who'll be my master's messmates in the
cabin: [Reads.] Captain Muccolah, Counsellor Fazacherly, Miss Gosling, Mr.
Thunder. What's this? speak, man! is there one of that name going?
John. If our voyage should now be at an end before we begin it?—If this Mr.
Thunder should be my master's son!—What rate is this vessel?
Land. Rate!
Land. Oh; a rum sort of a gentleman; I suspect he's one of the players.
John. True; Sam said it was some player's people coaxed him away from
Portsmouth school. It must be the 'squire—show me where he's moored, my old
purser.
SCENE III.
Lamp. No matter. His barn will hold a good thirty pounds, and if I can but
engage this young fellow, this Rover, he'll cram it every night he plays. He's
certainly a devilish good actor. Now, Trap, you must enquire out a carpenter, and
be brisk about the building. I think we shall have smart business, as we stand so
well for pretty women, too. Oh, here he is!
Enter ROVER.
Trap. The most reputable company, and charming money getting circuit.
[Apart to Rover.]
Lamp. Only suffer me to put up your name to play with us six nights, and
twelve guineas are yours.
Rover. Sir, I thank you, and must confess your offer is liberal; but my friends
have flattered me into a sort of opinion that encourages me to take a touch at the
capital.
Rover. Why, I may fail, and gods may groan, and ladies drawl, "La, what an
awkward creature!" But should I top my part, then shall gods applaud, and ladies
sigh, "The charming fellow!" and treasurers smile upon me, as they count the
shining guineas!
Rover. Ay, suppose the contrary, I have a certain friend here, in my coat pocket
[Puts his hand in his pocket.] Eh! zounds! where is—oh, the devil! I gave it to
discharge my kind host—going for London, and not master of five shillings!
[Aside.] "Sir, to return to the twenty pounds."
Rover. Sir, I engage with you, call a rehearsal when and where you please, I'll
attend.
Lamp. Sir, I'll step for the cast book, and you shall chuse your characters.
Rover. Since I must remain here some time, and I've not the most distant hope
of ever speaking to this goddess again, I wish I had inquired her name, that I
might know how to keep out of her way.
[Exit LANDLORD.
John. The very face of his father! And an't you asham'd of yourself?
John. Do you know, if I had you at the gangways, I'd give you a neater dozen
than ever you got from your schoolmaster's cat-a-nine tails.
John. I have.
Rover. Now, who the devil's Lady Amaranth?
John. I expect her chariot every moment, and when it comes, you'll get into it,
and I'll get into it, and I'll set you down genteely at her house; then I'll have
obeyed my orders, and I hope your father will be satisfied.
John. Pshaw! leave off your fun, and prepare to ask his pardon.
Rover. Ha, ha, ha! Why, my worthy friend, you are totally wrong in this affair.
Upon my word I'm not the person you take me for. [Going.]
John. You don't go, though they've got your name down in the stage coach
book, Mr. Thunder.
Rover. Mr. Thunder! stage coach book! [Pauses.] ha, ha, ha! This must be
some curious blunder.
John. Oh! my lad, your father, Sir George, will change your note.
Rover. He must give me one first. Sir George! then my father is a knight, it
seems; ha, ha, ha! very good, faith! 'pon my honour, I am not the gentleman that
you think me.
John. I ought not to think you any gentleman for giving your honour in a
falsehood. Oh! them play actors you went amongst have quite spoiled you. I
wish only one of 'em would come in my way. I'd teach 'em to bring a gentleman's
son tramboozing about the country.
Enter WAITER.
Waiter. Her ladyship's chariot's at the door, and I fancy it's you, sir, the
coachman wants.
Rover. Indeed! Shall! Shall is a word don't sound over agreeable to my ears.
Rover. "More music in the clink of her horses' hoofs than twenty hautboys."
Why, is this Lady Thing-o-me pretty?
Rover. Egad! I've a mind to humour the frolic—Well, well, I'll see your
mermaid. But then on the instant of my appearance the mistake must be
discovered. [Aside.] Harkye, is this father of mine you talk of at this lady's?
John. No: your father's in chase of the deserters. I find he's afraid to face the
old one, so, if I tell him, he won't go with me. [Aside.] No, no, we shan't see him
in a hurry.
Rover. Then I'll venture. Has the lady ever seen me?
John. Psha! none of your jokes, man; you know, that her ladyship, no more
than myself, has set eyes upon you since you was the bigness of a rumbo
canakin.
John. What?
Rover. "Since you will buckle fortune on my back, to bear her burden, whether
I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load; but if black scandal, or foul
faced"——
John. Black! my foul face was as fair as yours before I went to sea.
Lady Am. Though thou hast settled that distressed gentleman's debt, let his
sister come unto me; and remit a quarter's rent unto all my tenants.
Eph. As thou bid'st I have discharged from the pound the widow's cattle; but
shall I let the lawsuit drop against the farmer's son who did shoot the pheasant?
Lady Am. Yea; but instantly turn from my service the gamekeeper's man that
did kill the fawn, while it was eating from his hand. We should hate guile,
though we may love venison.
Eph. I love a young doe.—[Aside.] Since the death of friend Dovehouse, who,
(though one of the faithful) was an active magistrate, this part of the country is
infested with covetous men, called robbers, and I have, in thy name, said unto
the people, whoever apprehendeth one of these, I will reward him, yea with
thirty pieces of gold. [A loud knocking without.] That beating of one brass
against another at thy door, proclaimeth the approach of vanity, whose pride of
heart swelleth at an empty sound. [Exit.
Lady Am. But my heart is possessed with the idea of that wandering youth,
whose benevolence induced him to part with, perhaps, his all, to free the
unhappy debtor. His person is amiable, his address (according to worldly modes)
formed to please, to delight. But he's poor; is that a crime? Perhaps meanly born:
but one good action is an illustrious pedigree. I feel I love him, and in that word
are birth, fame, and riches.
Enter JANE.
Lady Am. Didst thou find the young man, that I may return him the money he
paid for my tenant?
Jane. I found him, ma'am, and—I found him, and he talked of—what he said.
John. Oh, my lady, mayhap John Dory is not the man to be sent after young
gentlemen that scamper from school, and run about the country play acting! Pray
walk up stairs, Master Thunder: [Calls off.]
John. Well, don't give me your palaver, young Miss Slip Slop.—Will you only
walk up, if you please, Master Harry?
Rover. "'Tis I, Hamlet the Dane!"—"Thus far into the bowels of the land, have
we marched on."—"John, that bloody and devouring boar!"
Rover. This the Lady Amaranth! By Heavens, the very angel quaker!
John. There he's for you, my lady, and make the most of him.
Jane. Oh, how happy my lady is! he looks so charming now he's fine.
John. Harkye! she's as rich as a Spanish Indiaman; and I tell you, your father
wishes you'd grapple her by the heart—court her, you mad devil. [Apart to
ROVER.] There's an engagement to be between these two vessels: but little
Cupid's the only man that's to take minutes, so come. [To JANE.]
John. By this, Sir George is come to the inn. Without letting the younker
know, I'll go bring him here, and smuggle both father and son into a joyful
meeting. [Aside.]—[To JANE.] Come now, usher me down like a lady.
Lady Am. Why wouldst vex thy father, and quit thy school.
Lady Am. Thy father designs thee for his dangerous profession; but is thy
inclination turned to the voice of trumpets, and smites of mighty slaughter?
Rover. "Why, ma'am, as for old Boreas, my dad, when the blast of war blows
in his ears, he's a tyger in his fierce resentment."—But for me, "I think it a pity,
so it is, that villainous saltpetre should be digg'd out of the bowels of the
harmless earth, which many a good tall fellow has destroyed, with wounds and
guns, and drums, Heav'n save the mark!"
Lady Am. Indeed thou art tall, my cousin, and grown of comely stature. Our
families have long been separated.
Rover. "Excellent wench! perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee, and
when I love thee not, chaos is come again."
Rover. "If I were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy." "Let our senses
dance in concert to the joyful minutes, and this, and this, the only discord make."
[Embracing.
Jane. No, sir, I'm not Cardinal Wolsey, I'm only my lady's maid here—Jenny
Gammon, at your service.
Rover. "You get no water, take the wine, great potentate."—[Gives Lady
AMARANTH a glass, then drinks.]
Rover. "Go, go, thou shallow Pomona."—[Puts her out.] Eh! Zounds, here's
my manager.
F. Gam. I hope her ladyship hasn't found out 'twas I had Banks arrested.
[Aside.]—Would your ladyship give leave for this here honest man and his
comrades to act a few plays in the town, 'cause I've let'n my barn. 'Twill be some
little help to me, my lady.
Lady Am. True; these are delusions, as a woman, I understand not. But by my
cousin's advice I will abide; ask his permission.
Gam. So; I must pay my respects to the young squire. [Aside.] An't please
your honour, if a poor man like me [Bows.] durst offer my humble duty.—
Rover. Ha!
Lady Am. What say'st thou, Henry?
Rover. Ay, where's Henry? Gadso! True, that's me. Strange I should already
forget my name, and not half an hour since I was christened! [Aside.] Harkye! do
you play yourself? Eh! Ha! Hem! [Vapouring.] fellow?
Lamp. Yes, sir; and sir, I have just now engaged a new actor, Mr. Rover. Such
an actor!
Rover. Eh! What! you've engaged that—what's his name, Rover? If such is
your best actor, you shan't have my permission. My dear madam, the worst
fellow in the world. Get along out of town, or I'll have all of you, man, woman,
child, stick, rag, and fiddlestick, clapt into the whirligig.
Rover. Eh! What, my friend? Now, indeed, if this new actor you brag of, this
crack of your company, was any thing like a gentleman—
Rover. It is. My good friend, if I was really the unfortunate poor strolling dog
you thought me, I should tread your four boards, and crow the cock of your
barn-door fowl; but as fate has ordained that I'm a gentleman, and son to Sir,—
Sir,—what the devil's my father's name? [Aside.] you must be content to murder
Shakspeare without making me an accomplice.
Lamp. But, my most gentle sir, I, and my treasurer, Trap, have trumpeted your
fame ten miles round the country:—the bills are posted, the stage built, the
candles booked, fiddles engaged; all on the tip-top of expectation. We should
have to-morrow night an overflow, ay, thirty pounds. Dear, worthy sir, you
wou'dn't go to ruin a whole community and their families that now depend only
on the exertion of your brilliant talents.
Rover. Eh! I never was uniform but in one maxim, that is, though I do little
good, to hurt nobody but myself.
Lady Am. Since thou hast promised, much as I prize my adherence to those
customs in which I was brought up, thou shalt not sully thy honour by a breach
of thy word. Play, if it can bring good to these people.
Rover. Shall I?
Lady Am. This falleth out well; for I have bidden all the gentry round unto my
house warming, and these pleasantries may afford them a cheerful and innocent
entertainment.
Rover. True, my lady; your guests ar'n't quakers though you are, and when we
ask people to our house, we study to please them, not ourselves. But if we do
furbish a play or two, the muses sha'n't honour that churlish fellow's barn. No;
the god, that illumines the soul of genius, should never visit the iron door of
inhumanity. No Gammon's barn for me!—
Lady Am. Barn! no; that gallery shall be thy theatre; and, in spite of the grave
doctrines of Ephraim Smooth, my friends and I will behold and rejoice in thy
pranks, my pleasant cousin.
Rover. My kind, my charming lady! Hey, brighten up, bully Lamp, carpenters,
tailor, manager, distribute your box tickets for my lady's gallery.—"Come, gentle
coz,"
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Inn.
Harry. Ha, ha, ha! Then I desire, sir, you'll turn Dick Buskin again out of your
memory.
Midge. Can't, sir. The dear, good-natur'd, wicked son of a——beg your
honour's pardon.
Harry. Oh, but Midge, you must, as soon as I'm dressed, step out and enquire
whose house is this my father's at; I did not think he had any acquaintance in this
part of the country. Sound what humour he's in, and how the land lies, before I
venture in his presence. [Exeunt.
Sir Geo. I can hear nothing of these deserters; yet, by my first intelligence,
they'll not venture up to London. They must still be lurking about the country.
Landlord, have any suspicious persons ever put in at your house?
Land. Why, sir, when a man calls for liquor that I think has no money, I make
him pay beforehand.
Sir Geo. Damn your liquor, you self-interested porpoise! Chatter your own
private concerns, when the public good, or fear of general calamity, should be
the only compass! These fellows, that I'm in pursuit of, have run from their
ships; if our navy's unmann'd, what becomes of you and your house, you
dunghill cormorant?
Land. This is a very abusive sort of a gentleman; but he has a full pocket, or
he wouldn't be so saucy. [Aside.] [Exit.
Sir Geo. This rascal, I believe, doesn't know I'm Sir George Thunder. Winds,
still variable, blow my affairs right athwart each other.—To know what's become
of my runagate son Harry,—and there my rich lady niece, pressing and
squeezing up the noble plumage of our illustrious family in her little mean
quaker bonnet. But I must up to town after—'Sblood, when I catch my son
Harry!—Oh, here's John Dory.
Enter JOHN DORY.
Have you taken the places in the London coach for me?
Sir Geo. What do you talk of clocks or timepieces—All glasses, reck'ning, and
log-line, are run mad with me.
John. If it's two, your son is at this moment walking with Lady Amaranth in
her garden.
John. If half after, they're cast anchor to rest themselves amongst the posies; if
three, they're got up again; if four, they're picking a bit of cramm'd fowl; and, if
half after, they're picking their teeth, and cracking walnuts over a bottle of
Calcavella.
Sir Geo. My son! my dear friend, where did you find him?
John. Why, I found him where he was, and I left him where he is.
John. No; but I brought him there from this house, in her ladyship's chariot. I
won't tell him Master Harry went amongst the players, or he'd never forgive him.
[Aside.] Oh! such a merry, civil, crazy, crack-brain! the very picture of your
honour.
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha! What, he's in high spirits? ha, ha, ha! the dog! [Joyfully.]
But I hope he's had discretion enough to throw a little gravity over his mad
humour, before his prudent cousin.
John. He threw himself on his knees before her, and that did quite as well.
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha! made love to her already! Oh, the impudent, the cunning
villain! What, and may be he—[With great glee.]
John. Oh, he threw his arms around her as eager as I would to catch a falling
decanter of Madeira.
Sir Geo. Huzza! victoria! Here will be a junction of bouncing estates! but,
confound the money. John, you shall have a bowl for a jolly boat to swim in; roll
in here a puncheon of rum, a hogshead of sugar, shake an orchard of oranges,
and let the Landlord drain his fish-pond yonder. [Sings.] "A bumper! a bumper of
good liquor," &c.
John. Then, my good master, Sir George, I'll order a bowl in, since you are in
the humour for it—"We'll dance a little, and sing a little." [Singing.] [Exit.
Sir Geo. And so the wild rogue is this instant rattling up her prim ladyship.
Eh, isn't this he? Left her already!
Enter HARRY.
Harry. I must have forgot my cane in this room—My father! Eh! zounds!
Sir Geo. [Looks at his watch.] Just half after four! Why, Harry, you've made
great haste in cracking your walnuts.
Harry. Yes; he's heard of my frolics with the players. [Aside.] Dear father, if
you'll but forgive—
Harry. Very odd, his approving of—[Aside.] I thank you, sir, but, if agreeable
to you, I've done with benefits.
Sir Geo. If I wasn't the best of fathers, you might indeed hope none from me;
but no matter, if you can but get the fair quaker.
Sir Geo. What, how dare you reflect on the humours of the navy? The navy
has very good humours, or I'd never see your dog's face again, you villain! But
I'm cool. What, eh, boy, a snug, easy chariot?
Harry. I'll order it. Waiter, desire my father's carriage to draw up. [Calls.
Sir Geo. Mine, you rogue! I've none here. I mean Lady Amaranth's.
Sir Geo. What are you at? I mean that which you left this house in.
Sir Geo. Why, John has been a rover to be sure; but now he's settled, since I've
made him my valet de chambre.
Harry. Make him your valet! Why, sir, where did you meet him?
Sir Geo. Zounds! I met him on board, and I met him on shore, and the cabin,
steerage, gallery, and forecastle. He sailed round the world with me.
Harry. Strange this, sir! certainly I understood he had been in the East Indies;
but he never told me he even knew you; but, indeed, he knew me only by the
name of Dick Buskin.
Sir Geo. Then how came he to bring you to Lady Amaranth's?
Sir Geo. Answer me. Ar'n't you now come from her ladyship's.
Sir Geo. Ha! this is a lie of John's, to enhance his own services. Then you have
not been there?
John. The rum and sugar is ready; but as for the fish-pond—
Sir Geo. I'll kick you into it, you thirsty old grampus.
Sir Geo. How dare you say you brought my son to Lady Amaranth's?
Sir Geo. He that best should know; only Dick Buskin here.
John. Then Dick Buskin might find some other amusement than shooting off
his guns here.
Sir Geo. Did you bring my son to Lady Amaranth's in her chariot?
[Exit, in a rage.
Sir Geo. No, no, John's honest; I see through it now. The puppy has seen her,
perhaps he has the impudence not to like her, and so blows up this confusion and
perplexity only to break off a marriage that I've set my heart on.
Sir Geo. Damn your assurance, you disobedient, ungrateful—I'll not part with
you till I confront you with Lady Amaranth herself, face to face, and if I prove
you've been deceiving me, I'll launch you into the wide ocean of life without
rudder, compass, grog, or tobacco. [Exeunt.
Lady Am. The fanciful flights of my pleasant cousin enchant my senses. This
book he gave me to read containeth good moral. The man Shakspeare, that did
write it, they call immortal; he must indeed have been filled with a divine spirit.
I understand, from my cousin, the origin of plays were religious mysteries; that,
freed from the superstition of early, and the grossness of latter, ages, the stage is
now the vehicle of delight and morality. If so, to hear a good play, is taking the
wholesome draught of precept from a golden cup, embossed with gems; yet, my
giving countenance to have one in my house, and even to act in it myself, prove
the ascendancy, that my dear Harry hath over my heart—Ephraim Smooth is
much scandalized at these doings.
Enter EPHRAIM.
Lady Am. And thy mouth also, good Ephraim. I have bidden my cousin Henry
to my house, and I will not set bounds to his mirth to gratify thy spleen, and
show mine own inhospitality.
Eph. Why dost thou suffer him to put into the hands of thy servants books of
tragedies, and books of comedies, prelude, interlude, yea, all lewd. My spirit
doth wax wrath. I say unto thee a playhouse is the school for the old dragon, and
a playbook the primer of Belzebub.
Lady Am. This is one; mark! [Reads.] "Not the king's crown, nor the deputed
sword, the marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, become them with one half
so good a grace as mercy doth. Oh, think on that, and mercy then will breathe
within your lips like man new made!"—Doth Belzebub speak such words?
Jane. Oh, ma'am, his honour the 'squire says the play's to be "As you like it."
Eph. I like it not.
Jane. He's given me my character. I'm to be Miss Audrey, and brother Sim's to
be William of the forest, as it were. But how am I to get my part by heart?
Jane. Well, I don't know but that's as good as any other. But I must study my
part. "The gods give us joy." [Exit.
Eph. Mary, thou shou'd'st be obey'd in thine own house, and I will do thy
bidding.
Lady Am. Ah, thou hypocrite! To obey is easy when the heart commands.
Rover. Oh, my charming cousin, how agree you and Rosalind? Are you almost
perfect? "Eh, what, all a-mort, old Clytus?" "Why, you're like an angry fiend
broke in among the laughing gods."—Come, come, I'll have nothing here, but
"Quips and cranks, and wreathed smiles, such as dwell on Hebe's cheek."
Rover. "But I'm a voice potential, double as the Duke's, and I say we must."
Eph. Nay.
Eph. I must shut my ears. The man of sin rubbeth the hair of the horse to the
bowels of the cat.
Rover. Trample on Shakspeare! "You sacrilegious thief, that, from a shelf the
precious diadem stole, and put it in thy pocket!" [Takes up the book and presents
it again to LADY AMARANTH .] Silence, "thou owl of Crete," and hear the
"Cuckoo's song."
Eph. Friend, this is a land of freedom, and I've as much right to move my
elbow as thou hast to move thine. [ROVER pushes him.] Why dost thou so friend?
Rover. Friend, this is a land of freedom, and I have as much right to move my
elbow, as thou hast to move thine.
Lady Am. But, Harry, do your people of fashion act these follies themselves.
Rover. Ay, and scramble for the top parts as eager as for star, ribband, place, or
pension. Lamp, decorate the seats out smart and theatrical, and drill the servants
that I've given the small parts to—
[Exit LAMP.
Lady Am. I wished for some entertainment, (in which gay people now take
delight,) to please those I have invited; but we'll convert these follies into a
charitable purpose. Tickets for this day shall be delivered unto my friends gratis;
but money to their amount, I will, from my own purse (after rewarding our
assistants) distribute amongst the indigent of the village. Thus, whilst we please
ourselves, and perhaps amuse our friends, we shall make the poor happy.
[Exit.
Rover. An angel! If Sir George doesn't soon arrive, to blow me, I may, I think,
marry her angelic ladyship; but will that be honest? She's nobly born, though I
suspect I had ancestors too, if I knew who they were. I certainly entered this
house the poorest wight in England, and what must she imagine when I am
discovered? That I am a scoundrel; and, consequently, though I should possess
her hand and fortune, instead of loving, she'll despise me——[Sits down.] I want
a friend now, to consult—deceive her I will not. Poor Dick Buskin wants money
more than myself, yet this is a measure I'm sure he'd scorn. No, no, I must not.—
Enter HARRY.
Harry. Now I hope my passionate father will be convinced that this is the first
time I ever was under this roof. Eh, what beau is here? Astonishing! My old
strolling friend!
Rover. [Turns] Dick Buskin! My dear fellow! Ha! ha! ha! Talk of the devil,
and—I was just thinking of you—'Pon my soul, Dick, I'm so happy to see you!
Rover. Found you! I'm sure I wonder how the deuce you found me out. Ah, the
news of my intended play has brought you.
Harry. He does'nt know as yet who I am; so I'll carry it on. [Aside.] Then you
too have broke your engagement with Truncheon, at Winchester; figuring it
away in your stage clothes too. Really, tell us what you are at here, Jack?
Rover. Will you be quiet with your Jacking? I'm now 'Squire Harry.
Harry. What?
Rover. I've been pressed into this service by an old man of war, who found me
at the inn, and, insisting I am son to a Sir George Thunder, here, in that
character, I flatter myself I have won the heart of the charming lady of this
house.
Harry. Now the mystery's out. Then it's my friend Jack has been brought here
for me! [Aside.] Do you know the young gentleman they take you for?
Rover. I am, now I can put some pounds in your pockets; you shall be
employed—we're getting up "As you like it." Let's see, in the cast have I a part
for you?—I'll take Touchstone from Lamp, you shall have it, my boy; I'd resign
Orlando to you with any other Rosalind; but the lady of the mansion plays it
herself, you rogue.
Harry. The very lady my father intended for me. [Aside.] Do you love her,
Jack?
Rover. She thinks me a gentleman, and I'll not convince her I am a rascal. I'll
go on with our play, as the produce is appropriated to a good purpose, and then
lay down my 'squireship, bid adieu to my heavenly Rosalind, and exit for ever
from her house, poor Jack Rover.
Harry. The generous fellow I ever thought him! and he sha'n't lose by it. If I
could make him believe—[Aside.] Well, this is the most whimsical affair! You've
anticipated, superseded me, ha! ha! ha! You'll scarce believe that I'm come here
too (purposely though) to pass myself for this young Henry.
Rover. No!
Harry. I am.
Harry. Ah! ah! ah! I'll try it; my father will be cursedly vexed; but no other
way. [Aside.
Rover. Somebody called Harry—Zounds! "if the real Simon Pure" should be
arrived, I'm in a fine way!
Rover. Eh!
Harry. He's to personate the father, Sir George. He started the scheme, having
heard that a union was intended, and Sir George not immediately expected—our
plan is, if I can, before his arrival, flourish myself into the lady's good graces,
and whip her up, as she's an heiress.
Harry. One of our company, a devilish good actor in the old man.
Rover. So you're turned fortune-hunter! Oh, oh! then 'twas on this plan that
you parted with me on the road, standing like a finger post, "you walk up that
way, and I must walk down this." [Mimicks.] Why, Dick, I did'nt know you were
half so capital a rogue.
Harry. I did'nt know my forte lay that way, till persuaded by this experienced
stager.
Rover. He must be an impudent old scoundrel; who is he? Do I not know him?
Rover. I'll step down stairs, and have the honour of—I'll kick him.
Harry. Stop! No, I wou'dn't have him hurt neither.
Rover. Abrawang! Abrawang! I never heard of him; but, Dick, why would you
let him persuade you to such a scandalous affair?
Harry. Why faith, I would have been off it; but when once he takes a project
into his head, the devil himself can't drive him out of it.
Rover. Yes; but the constable may drive him into Winchester gaol.
Harry. Eh! your opinion of our intended exploit has made me ashamed of
myself—Ha! ha! ha! Harkey, Jack, to frighten and punish my adviser, do you
still keep on your character of young 'Squire Thunder—you can easily do that, as
he, no more than myself, has ever seen the young gentleman.
Harry. Yes; but, Jack, if you can marry her, her fortune is a snug thing:
besides, if you love each other—I tell you—
Rover. Hang, her fortune! "My love, more noble than the world, prizes not
quantity of dirty lands." Oh, Dick, she's the most lovely—she is female beauty in
its genuine decoration! [Exit.
Harry. Ha! ha! ha! this is the drollest—Rover little suspects that I am the
identical Squire Thunder that he personates—I'll lend him my character a little
longer. Yes, this offers a most excellent opportunity of making my poor friend's
fortune, without injuring any body; if possible, he shall have her. I can't regret
the loss of charms I never knew; and, as for an estate, my father's is competent to
all my wishes. Lady Amaranth, by marrying Jack Rover, will gain a man of
honour, which she might miss in an earl—it may tease my father a little at first,
but he's a good old fellow in the main; and, I think, when he comes to know my
motive—Eh! this must be she—an elegant woman, faith! Now for a spanking lie,
to continue her in the belief that Jack is the man she thinks him.
Enter LADY AMARANTH .
Harry. Madam, I've scarce time to warn you against the danger you are in, of
being imposed upon by your uncle, Sir George.
Harry. He has heard of your ladyship's partiality for his son; but is so incensed
at the irregularity of his conduct, he intends, if possible, to disinherit him; and, to
prevent your honouring him with your hand, had engaged, and brought me
hither, to pass me on you for him, designing to treat the poor young gentleman
himself as an impostor, in hopes you'll banish him your heart and house.
Lady Am. Is Sir George such a parent? I thank thee for thy caution.—What is
thy name?
Harry. Yes, ma'am; I've this moment told the young gentleman of it; and he's
determined, for a jest, to return the compliment, by seeming to treat Sir George
himself as an impostor.
Lady Am. Ha, ha, ha! 'twill be a just retaliation, and, indeed, what my uncle
deserveth for his cruel intentions both to his son and me.
Harry. Yes; here is my father; and my standing out that I am not his son, will
rouse him into the heat of battle, ha, ha, ha! [Aside.] Here he is, madam, now
mind how he will dub me 'squire.
Lady Am. It's well I'm prepared, or I might have believed him.
Sir Geo. Well, my lady, wasn't it my wild rogue set you to all the Calcavella
capers you've been cutting in the garden? You see here I have brought him into
the line of battle again—you villain, why do you drop astern there? Throw a
salute shot, buss her bob-stays, bring to, and come down straight as a mast, you
dog.
Sir Geo. Who is he! Ha, ha, ha! Gad, that's an odd question to the fellow that
has been cracking your walnuts.
Sir Geo. Certainly, when he ran from school—why don't you speak, you
lubber? you're curst modest now, but before I came, 'twas all done amongst the
posies—Here, my lady, take from a father's hand, Harry Thunder.
Sir Geo. There, I thought you'd disgust her, you flat fish!
Enter ROVER.
Lady Am. [Taking ROVER'S hand.] Here, take from my hand, Harry Thunder.
Harry. Yes; I've been telling the lady, and she'll seem to humour him.
Rover. You look like a good actor.—Ay, that's very well, indeed—never lose
sight of your character—you know, Sir George is a noisy, turbulent, wicked old
seaman.—Angry! bravo!—pout your under lip, purse your brows—very well!
But, dem it, Abrawang, you should have put a little red upon your nose—mind a
rule, ever play an angry old man, with a red nose.
Rover. Very well! that's right! strut about on your little pegs.
Rover. We know that. Your figure is the most happy comedy squab I ever saw;
why only show yourself, and you set the audience in a roar.
Lady Am. Yes, father and son are determined not to know each other. You
know this youth? [To ROVER.]
Rover. [To HARRY.] "My friend, Horatio"—"I wear him in my heart's core, yea,
in my heart of heart, as I do thee." [Embracing.
Sir Geo. Such freedom with my niece before my face! Do you know that lady,
do you know my son, sir?
Rover. Be quiet. "Jaffier has discovered the plot, and you can't deceive the
senate."
Rover. "Ay, his conscience hanging about the neck of his heart, says, good
Launcelot, and good Gobbo, as aforesaid, good Launcelot Gobbo, take to thy
heels and run."
Lady Am. Uncle, I've heard thy father was kind to thee, return that kindness to
thy child. If the lamb in wanton play doth fall among the waters, the shepherd
taketh him out, instead of plunging him deeper till he dieth. Though thy hairs
now be grey, I'm told they were once flaxen; in short, he is too old in folly, who
cannot excuse it in youth. [Exit.
Sir Geo. I'm an old fool! Well, that's damn'd civil of you, madam niece, and
I'm a grey shepherd—with her visions and her vines, and her lambs in a ditch;
but as for you, young Mr. Goat, I'll butt you——
Rover. Will you have done? Zounds, man, my honoured father was here
himself to-day—Her ladyship knows his person.
Sir Geo. Your honoured father! and who's your honoured self?
Rover. "Now by my father's son, and that's myself, it shall be sun, moon, or a
Cheshire cheese—before I budge—still crossed and crossed."
Sir Geo. Why, dam'me, I'll—And you, you undutiful chick of an old pelican—
John. What are you at here? cudgelling the people about? But, Mr. Buckskin,
I've a word to say to you in private.
Lamp. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women"——
Sir Geo. The men are rogues, and the women hussies—I'll make a clear stage.
SCENE II.
Another Apartment.
Lady Am. My steward oppress the poor! I did not know it indeed.
Banks. The pangs of adversity I could bear; but the innocent partner of my
misfortunes, my unhappy sister—
Lady Am. I did desire Ephraim to send for thy sister—Did she dwell with thee,
and both now without a home? Let her come to mine.
Lady Am. Thou dost mistake—To need my assistance is the highest claim to
my attention; let me see her. [Exit BANKS.] I could chide myself that these
pastimes have turned my eye from the house of woe. Ah! think, ye proud and
happy affluent, how many, in your dancing moments, pine in want, drink the salt
tear; their morsel, the bread of misery, and shrinking from the cold blast into
their cheerless hovels.
Lady Am. Thou art welcome—I feel myself interested in thy concerns.
Amelia. Madam!
Lady Am. I judge, thou wert not always unhappy.—Tell me thy condition, then
I shall better know how to serve thee. Is thy brother thy sole kindred?
Lady Am. A widow! If it recall not images thou wouldst forget, impart to me
thy story—'Tis rumoured in the village, thy brother is a clergyman—tell me.
Amelia. Madam, he was; but he has lost his early patron, and is now poor and
unbeneficed.
Amelia. By this brother's advice, now twenty years since, I was prevailed on to
listen to the addresses of a young sea officer, (for my brother has been a chaplain
in the navy) but to our surprise and mortification, we discovered by the honesty
of a sailor, in whom he put confidence, that the captain's design was only to
decoy me into a seeming marriage; he ordered him to procure a counterfeit
clergyman; our humble friend, instead of us, put the deceit upon his master, by
concealing from him that my brother was in orders; he, flattered with the hopes
of procuring me an establishment, gave in to the supposed imposture, and
performed the ceremony.
Amelia. Madam, the event has justified your censure; for my husband, not
knowing himself really bound by any legal tie, abandoned me—I followed him
to the Indies, distracted, still seeking him—I left my infant at one of our
settlements; but, after a fruitless pursuit, on my return, I found the friend, to
whose care I had committed my child, was compelled to retire from the ravages
of war, but where I could not learn. Rent with agonizing pangs, now without
child or husband, I again saw England, and my brother; who, wounded with
remorse, for being the cause of my misfortunes, secluded himself from the joys
of social life, and invited me to partake the comforts of solitude in that humble
asylum, from whence we've both just now been driven.
Lady Am. My pity can do thee no good, yet I pity thee; but as resignation to
what must be, may restore peace, if my means can procure thee comfort, they are
at thy pleasure. Come, let thy griefs subside, instead of thy cottage, accept, thou
and thy brother, every convenience that my mansion can afford.
Lady Am. My thanks are here—Come, thou shalt be cheerful. I will introduce
thee to my sprightly cousin Harry, and his father, my humourous uncle; we have
delights going forward that may amuse thee.
Amelia. Kind lady!
A Road.
2d Ruff. Why, we've been long upon our shifts, and after all our tricks, twists,
and turns, as London was then too hot for us, our tramp to Portsmouth was a hit.
3d Ruff. Ay; but since the cash we touched, upon pretending to be able bodied
seamen, is now come to the last shilling, as we have deserted, means of a fresh
supply to take us back to London, must be thought on.
2d Ruff. Ay, how to recruit the pocket without hazarding the neck.
1st Ruff. By an advertisement posted on the stocks yonder, there are collectors
upon this road; thirty guineas are offered by the quaker lady, owner of the estate
round here; I wish we could snap any straggler to bring before her. A quaker will
only require a yea for an oath—we might sack these thirty guineas.
2d Ruff. Yes; but we must take care, if we fall into the hands of this gentleman
that's in pursuit of us——'Sdeath, isn't that his man, the old boatswain?
1st Ruff. Don't run, I think we three are a match for him.
2d Ruff. Instantly put on your characters of sailors; we may get something out
of him: a pitiful story makes such an impression on the soft heart of a true tar,
that he'll open his hard hand, and drop you his last guinea—If we can but make
him believe we were pressed, we have him; only mind me.
John. To rattle my lantern, Sir George's temper now always blows a hurricane.
John. Ha hoy!
1st Ruff. We three hands, just come home after a long voyage, were pressed in
the river, and without letting us see our friends, brought round to Portsmouth,
and there we entered freely, cause why? We had no choice, then we run. We hear
some gentleman is in chace of us, so as the shot are all out, we'll surrender.
John. Surrender! Oh then you've no shot left indeed—let's see. [Feels his
pocket.] I hav'nt the loading of a gun about me now, and this same monsieur
poverty is a bitter bad enemy.
Sir Geo. They are the deserters that I've been after. [Aside.
John. Meet me in an hour's time in the little wood yonder; I'll raise a wind to
blow you into safe latitude—keep out to sea, my master's the rock you'll
certainly split upon.
2d Ruff. This is the first time we ever saw you; but we'll steer by your chart,
for I never knew one seaman to betray another.
[Exeunt RUFFIANS.
Sir Geo. Then they have been pressed—I can't blame them so much for
running away.
Sir Geo. I wouldn't, they shall eat beef, and drink the king's health, run and tell
them so—stop, I'll tell them myself.
John. Why, now you are yourself, and a kind, good gentleman, as you used to
be.
Sir Geo. Since these idle rogues are inclined to return to their duty, they shan't
want sea store—take them this money—but hold—I'll meet them myself, and
advise them as I would my children.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
A Wood.
Rover. Which way did Mr. Abrawang take? Dick Buskin, I think, has no
suspicion of my intentions:—such a choleric spark will fight, I dare say. If I fall,
or even survive this affair, I leave the field of love, and the fair prize, to the
young gentleman I've personated, for I'm determined to see Lady Amaranth no
more—Oh, here comes Abrawang.
Enter SIR GEORGE.
Sir Geo. Now to relieve these foolish seagulls—they must be hovering about
this coast—Ha! puppy unknown!—
Rover. You're the very man I was seeking.—You are not ignorant, Mr.
Abrawang—
Rover. You will not resign your title, ha, ha, ha! Oh, very well, I'll indulge you,
—Sir George Thunder, you honoured me with a blow.
Rover. 'Sdeath! but let me proceed like a gentleman; as it's my pride to reject
even favours, no man shall offer me an injury.
Sir Geo. Are we faith? [Smiling.] The English of all this is, we're to fight.
Rover. Sir, you have marked on me an indelible stain, only to be washed out
by blood.
Sir Geo. Zounds! I like a bit of fighting—hav'n't had a morsel a long time—
don't know when I've smelt gunpowder—but to bring down a woodcock.
Sir Geo. Well, this is bold work, for a privateer to give battle to a king's ship.
Sir Geo. I would not wish to sink, burn, or destroy, what I think was built for
good service; but, damme, if I don't wing you, to teach you better manners.
3d Ruff. Ay, here's the honest fellow has brought us some cash.
2d Ruff. We're betrayed, it's the very gentleman, that's in pursuit of us, and this
promise was only a decoy to throw us into his power—The pistol!
[2d RUFFIAN seizes and wrenches the piece from SIR GEORGE.
John. Well, I know I'm your preserver, and I will perish, but I'll bring you out
of harm's way.
John. I'll save your life [Whips him up in his arms.] So hey! haul up, my noble
little crab walk! [Exit.
SCENE III.
F. Gam. Ay, you know you've gone up to the big house with your complaint—
her ladyship's steward, to be sure, has made me give back your cottage and farm;
but your goods I seize for my rent.
F. Gam. The affair is now in my lawyer's hands, and plaintiff and defendant
chattering about it, is all smoke.
F. Gam. I'll mark what I may want to keep for myself. Stay here, and see that
not a pin's worth be removed without my knowledge. [To SIM.] [Exit.
Sim. I'll be domm'd if I'll be your watch dog, to bite the poor, that I won't. Mr.
Banks, as feyther intends to put up your goods at auction, if you could but get a
friend to buy the choice of them for you again. Sister Jane has got steward to
advance her a quarter's wages, and when I've gone to sell corn for feyther,
besides presents, I've made a market penny now and then. Here—it's not much!
but every little helps.
Banks. I thank you, my good natured boy; but keep your money.
Sim. Last summer, you saved me from being drowned in black pool, if you'll
not take this, ecod, in there I'll directly fling it, and let old nick save it from
being drowned, an'he can. [Going.
Banks. My kind lad, then I'll not hurt your feeling, by opposing your liberality.
[Takes it.
Sim. He, he, he! you've now given my heart such a pleasure as I never felt, nor
I'm sure feyther afore me.
Banks. But, Sim, whatever may be his opinion of worldly prudence, still
remember he's your parent.
Sim. I will—"One elbow chair, one claw table."
Enter AMELIA.
Amelia. The confusion into which Lady Amaranth's family is thrown by the
sudden departure, and apprehended danger of her young cousin, must have
prevented her ladyship from giving that attention to our affairs, that I'm sure was
her inclination. If I can but prevail on my brother too, to accept her protection—I
can't enjoy the delights of her ladyship's hospitable mansion, and leave him here
still subject to the insults of his churlish neighbour—Heavens! who's this?
[Retires.
Rover. What a race [Panting.] I've at last got from the blood hounds! Ah, if old
Abrawang had but followed and backed me, we'd have tickled their catastrophes;
but when they got me alone, three upon me were odds, so, safe's the word—
who's house is this I've dash'd into?—Eh! the friendly cottage of my old
gentleman! Are you at home? [Calls.] Gadso! I had a hard struggle for it; yes,
murder was their intent, so it was well for me that I was born without brains, I'm
quite weak, faint! [Leans against the wall.]
Rover. Madam, I ask pardon,—hem, yes, ma'am, very well, I thank you—now
exceeding well—got into a fray there, in a kind of a hobble with some worthy
gentlemen; only simple, honest farmers. I fancy mistook me for a sheaf of
barley, for they down with me, and then thresh'd so heartily, gad, their flails flew
merrily about my ears, but I up, and when I could no longer fight like a mastiff,
why, I—run like a greyhound—But, dear ma'am, pray excuse me. Egad, this is
very rude, faith.
Amelia. You seem disturbed, [With emotion.] will you take any refreshment?
Rover. Madam, you're very good.—Only a little of your currant wine, if you
please; if I don't forget, it stands—just—[Points—AMELIA brings some from a
beaufet.] Madam, I've the honour of drinking your health. [Drinks.]
Rover. "A little better, but very weak still"—I had a sample of this before, and
liked it so much, that, madam—"Won't you take another?"
Amelia. Sir!
Rover. Madam, if you'd been fighting, as I have, you'd—well, well, [Fills and
drinks.] now I'm as well as any man—"In Illyria," got a few hard knocks though.
Amelia. You'd better repose a little, you seem'd much disorder'd coming in.
Rover. [Places a chair, and both sit.] Why, ma'am, you must know thus it was
—
Off. Come, ma'am, Mr. Gammon says this chair is wanted to make up the half
dozen above. [Lays hold of AMELIA'S chair, she rises terrified.]
Off. Why the furniture's seized on execution, and a man must do his duty.
Rover. Then, scoundrel, know, that a man's first duty is civility and tenderness
to a woman.
Amelia. Heavens! where's my brother? This gentleman will bring himself into
trouble.
Off. Master, d'ye see, I'm representative for his honour the High Sheriff.
Rover. Every High Sheriff should be a gentleman, and when he's represented
by a rascal, he's dishonour'd.—Dem it, I might as well live about Covent Garden,
and every night get beating the watch; for here, among groves and meadows, I'm
always squabbling with constables. [Whips up a stick from a corner of the room,
and holds it behind him.]
Off. Come, come, I must—
Rover. "As you say, sir, last Wednesday, so it was"—Sir, your most obedient,
humble servant— [Bows respectfully.] Pray, sir, may I take the liberty to know,
have you ever been astonished? [With great ceremony.]
Off. What?
Rover. Because, sir, I intend to astonish you; my dear fellow, give me your
hand. [Takes his hand, and beats him—] Now, sir, you are astonished?
Rover. "Right, suit the action to the word, the word to the action;" "See if the
gentlewoman be not affrighted"—"Michael, I'll make thee an example."
Off. Yes, fine example, when goods are seized here by the law, and—
Rover. "Thou worm and maggot of the law!" "Hop me over every kennel, or
you shall hop without my custom."
Rover. Hop!
Stop, ma'am, these sort of gentry are monstrous bad company for a lady—So I'll
just see him to the door, and then I'll see him outside the door.—Ma'am, I'm your
most obedient humble servant. [Bows respectfully, and exit hastily.]
Amelia. I feel a strange curiosity to know who this young gentleman is. I find
my heart interested, I can't account for—he must have known the house by the
freedom—but then his gaiety, (without familiar rudeness) native elegance of
manners, and good breeding, seem to make him at home any where.—My
brother, I think, must know—
Banks. Amelia, did you see the young gentleman that was here? Some ruffian
fellows, and a posse of the country people have bound and dragged him from the
door, on the allegation of three men, who mean to swear he has robbed them;
and they have taken him to Lady Amaranth's.
Amelia. How! He did enter here in confusion as if pursued; but I'll stake my
life on his innocence. I'll speak to Lady Amaranth, and in spite of calumny, he
shall have justice—he would not let me be insulted, because he saw me an
unprotected woman, without a husband or a son, and shall he want an advocate?
Brother, come. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
LADY AMARANTH'S.
Jane. I believe there's not a soul in the house but myself; my lady has sent all
the folks round the country to search after the young 'squire, she'll certainly
break her heart if any thing happens to him; I don't wonder, for surely he's a dear,
sweet gentleman: the pity of it is, his going spoils all our fine play, and I had just
got my part quite by heart; however, I must do the room up for Mr. Banks's
sister, that my lady has invited here.
Eph. The man John Dory has carried the man George hither in his arms, and
has locked him up. Coming into the house, they did look to me like a blue
lobster with a shrimp in his claws—Oh, here is the damsel I love, and alone.
Jane. They say when folks look in the glass, at night, they see the black
gentleman.
Jane. Yes; but not such ugly men as you are. Why would you come in to
frighten me, when you know there's nobody here but ourselves.
Eph. I am glad of that. I am the elm and thou the honey suckle; let thy arms
entwine me.
Jane. Oh, what a rogue is here! but yonder comes my lady, and I'll show him
off to her in his true colours. [Aside.
Jane. Well, I will, if you'll take off your hat, and make me a fine low bow.
Jane. I kiss a man! a-bo-mi-na-ti-on! [Mimicking.] but you may take my hand
—
Click to ENLARGE
LADY AMARANTH . — AH, THOU SLY AND DECEITFUL HYPOCRITE!
Lady Am. How! [Taps him gently on the shoulder, he looks up confounded.]
Ah, thou sly and deceitful hypocrite!
Lady Am. But, Oh, Heavens, no tidings of my dearest Henry! Jane, let them
renew their search.
Jane. Here's Madam Amelia, you see I've got her room ready; but I'll go make
brother Sim look for the young 'squire. [Exit.
Enter AMELIA.
Lady Am. Thou art ill accommodated here; but I hope thou wilt excuse—My
mind is a sea of trouble, my peace shipwrecked—Oh, friend, hadst thou seen my
cousin Harry, thou too, all who knew him, must be anxious for his safety.
Sir Geo. Rascal! whip me up like a pound of tea, dance me about like a young
bear, make me quit the preserver of my life! yes, puppy unknown will think me a
poltroon, and that I was afraid to follow, and second him.
John. Well, you may as well turn into your hammock; for out to-night you
shall not budge—[Sees Amelia.] Oh! marcy of Heaven! isn't it—Eh, master?
Only give one look.
John. [Stopping SIR GEORGE, and looking attentively at AMELIA.] Reef the
foresail! first, you cracked her heart by sheering off, and now you'll overset her
by bringing to.
Lady Am. Seymour! her mind is disturbed, this is mine uncle, Sir George
Thunder.
John. No, no, my lady, she knows what she's saying very well.
Sir Geo. Niece, I have been a villain to this lady, I confess. But, my dear
Amelia, Providence has done you justice in part. From the first month I quitted
you, I have never entered one happy hour on my journal; hearing that you
foundered, and considering myself the cause, the worm of remorse has gnawed
my timbers.
Sir Geo. Me! can you forgive my offence, and condescend to take my hand as
an atonement?
Sir Geo. Hold your tongue, you impudent crimp, you pander, you bad adviser
—I'll strike my false colours—I'll now acknowledge the chaplain you provided
was—
John. Was a good man, and a greater honour to his black, than your honour
has been to your blue cloth—Eh, by the word of a seaman, here he is himself.
Enter BANKS.
Banks. That, sir, my sister is already; for when I performed the marriage
ceremony, which you took only as the cloak of your deception, I was actually in
orders.
John. Now, who's the crimp, and the pander? I never told you this since;
because I thought a man's own reflections were the best punishment for
betraying an innocent woman.
Lady Am. Madam, my inmost soul partaketh of thy gladness, and joy for thy
reformation. [To SIR GEORGE.] But thy prior marriage to this lady, annuls the
subsequent, and my cousin Harry is not now thy heir.
Sir Geo. So much the better; he's an unnatural cub; but, Amelia, I flatter
myself I have an heir, my infant boy.—
Sir Geo. Gone! well, well, I see I have been a miserable scoundrel—Eh, I will,
yes, I'll adopt that brave kind lad, that wou'dn't let any body kill me but himself.
He shall have my estate, that's my own acquisition—My lady, marry him, puppy
unknown's a fine fellow! Amelia, only for him, you'd never have found your
husband Captain Seymour in Sir George Thunder.
Amelia. What?
Eph. I am come to sit in judgment, for there is a bad man in thy house, Mary.
Bring him before me.
Sir Geo. Before you, old squintabus? And perhaps you don't know I'm a
magistrate?
Sir Geo. You be damn'd—I'll examine him myself, [Shoves EPHRAIM.] Tow
him in here. I'll give him a passport to Winchester bilboes.
Amelia. [Kneels to SIR GEORGE.] Oh, sir, as you hope for mercy, extend it to
this youth; but even should he be guilty, which, from our knowledge of his
benevolent and noble nature, I think next to an impossibility, let the services he
has rendered to us—he protected, relieved your forsaken wife, and her unhappy
brother, in the hour of want and sorrow.
Sir Geo. What, Amelia, plead for a robber! Consider, my love, justice is above
bias or partiality. If my son violated the laws of his country, I'd deliver him up a
public victim to disgrace and punishment.
Lady Am. Oh, my impartial uncle! Had thy country any laws to punish him,
who instead of paltry gold, would rob the artless virgin of her dearest treasure, in
the rigid judge I should now behold the trembling criminal.
Sir Geo. Will nobody stop his mouth? [JOHN DORY pushes him up against the
wall.] Where are the prosecutors?
Rover. I thought I should find you here, Abrawang, and that you had some
knowledge of these fellows.
Enter HARRY.
Rover. Yes, Dick, I was brought in here very safe, I assure you.
Sir Geo. Keep them safe in limbo. [Ruffians taken off.]—Not knowing that the
justice of peace, whom they've brought the lad now here before, is the very man
they attacked, ha, ha, ha! The rogues have fallen into their own snare.
Rover. Madam, I am happy to see you again. [To AMELIA.]—Ah, how do you
do, my kind host?
Lady Am. I rejoice at thy safety—Be reconciled to him. [To SIR GEORGE.]
Sir Geo. Reconciled!—If I don't love, respect, and honour him, I should be
unworthy of the life he rescued. But who is he?
Rover. Dick, I thank you for your good wishes; but I am still determined not to
impose on this lady—Madam, as I at first told this well meaning tar, when he
forced me to your house, I am not the son of Sir George Thunder.
John. No! Then I wish you were the son of an admiral, and I your father.
Harry. You refuse the lady? To punish you, I've a mind to take her myself.—
My dear cousin—
Rover. Stop, Dick.—If I, who adore her, won't, you shall not. No, no; madam,
never mind what this fellow says, he's as poor as myself—Isn't he, Abrawang.
Harry. Then, my dear Rover, since you are so obstinately disinterested, I'll no
longer teize my father, whom you here see, and in your strolling friend, his very
truant Harry, that ran from Portsmouth school, and joined you and fellow
comedians.
Rover. Indeed!
Harry. Dear cousin, forgive me, if, through my zeal for the happiness of my
friend, I endeavoured to promote yours, by giving you a husband more worthy
than myself. [To LADY AMARANTH .]
Rover. 'Tis so! You, in reality, what I've had the impudence to assume! and
have perplexed your father with my ridiculous effrontery.—[Turns to JOHN DORY,
angry.] I told you, I insisted I wasn't the person you took me for, but you must
bring your damned chariot! I am ashamed and mortified. Madam, I beg to take
my leave.
Eph. Thou art welcome to go.
Rover. [Bows.] Sir George, as the father of my friend, I cannot lift my hand
against you; but I hope, sir, you'll apologize to me. [Apart.
Sir Geo. Ay, with pleasure, my noble splinter—now tell me from what dock
you were launched, my heart of oak?
Rover. I've heard, in England, sir; but from my earliest knowledge, till within a
very few years, I've been in the East Indies.
Rover. It seems I was committed an infant to the care of a lady, who was
herself obliged by the gentle Hyder Ally, to strike her toilet, and decamp without
beat of drum, leaving me a chubby little fellow squatted on a carpet. A serjeant's
wife alone returned, and snatched me off triumphant, through fire, smoke,
cannon, cries, and carnage.
Amelia. Sir, can you recollect the name of the town, where—
Rover. An officer, who'd much rather act Hotspur on the stage, than in the
field, brought me up behind the scenes at the Calcutta theatre—I was rolled on
the boards, acted myself into the favour of a colonel,—promised a pair of
colours; but, impatient to find my parents, hid myself in the steerage of an
homeward bound ship; assumed the name of Rover, from the uncertainty of my
fate, and, having murdered more poets than Rajahs, stept on English ground,
unincumbered with rupees or pagodas. Ha, ha! Wou'dst thou come home so, little
Ephraim?
Rover. Oh, ma'am, she was the lady of a Major Linstock: but I heard my
mother's name was Seymour.
Amelia. My son!
Rover. Madam!
John. [Sings and capers, claps EPHRAIM on the shoulders.] Tol, lol, lol, though
I never heard it before, my heart told me he was a chip of the old block.
Sir Geo. My dear brave boy! Then have I a son with spirit to fight me as a
stranger, yet defend me as a father.
Lady Am. [Takes him by the hand.] Uncle, you'll recollect 'twas I, who first
introduced a son to thee.
Sir Geo. And I hope you will next introduce a grandson to me, young
slyboots. Harry, you've lost your fortune.
Harry. Yes, sir, but I've gained a brother, whose friendship (before I knew him
to be such,) I prized above the first fortune in England.
Lady Am. Yea; but only on condition thou bestowest thy fortune on his friend
and brother, mine is sufficient for us, is it not?
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
The illustration has been moved to the appropriate place in the text.
Contemporary spellings have been retained, even where inconsistent. In a very few instances, missing
punctuation has been added.
Two corrections have been made and can be identified in the body of the text by a grey dotted underline:
"Ill tie your neck in a big beau" "I'll tie your neck in a big beau"
'Pon my my soul 'Pon my soul
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