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Gib. Really!

Cher. He must adore the person that disdains Arch. Really.

him, he must bribe the chambermaid that betrays Gib. That's much.—That fellow has been at him, and court the footman that laughs at him! the bar, by his evasions. But pray, sir, what is -He must, he mustyour master's name?

Arch. Nay, child, I must whip you, if you don't Arch. Tall, all, dall.— [Sings, and combs the per mind your lesson. He must treat hisriwig.] This is the most obstinate curl

Cher. O! ay. He must treat his enemies Gib. I ask you his name?

with respect, his friends with indifference, and all Arch. Name, sir!--Tall, all, dall-I never ask- the world with contempt; he must suffer much, ed his name in all my life-Tal, all, dall. and fear more; he must desire much, and hope Bon. What think you now?

little: in short, he must embrace bis ruin, and Gib. Plain, plain : he talks now as if he were throw himself away. before a judge. But pray, friend, which way Arch. Had ever man so hopeful a pupil as does your master travel?

mine! Come, my dear; why is Love called a Arch. A horseback.

riddle ? Gib. Very well again :-an old offender Cher. Because, being blind, he leads those that Right-But I mean, does he go upwards or down see, and, though a child, he governs a man. wards?

Arch. Mighty well.–And why is Love pictured Arch. Downwards, I fear, sir-Tall, lall. blind ? Gib. I'm afraid thy fate will be a contrary way. Cher. Because the painters, out of their weakBen, Ha, ha, ba!--Mr Martin, you're very arch. ness, or the privilege of their art, chose to hide - This gentleman is only travelliug towards Ches- those eyes they could not draw. ter, and would be glad of your company, that's Arch. That's my dear little scholar; kiss me all. ---Comc, captain, you'll stay to-night, 1 sup- again—–And why should Love, that's a child, pose: I'll shew you a chamber-Come, cap- govern a man. tain.

Cher. Because that a child is the end of love. Gib. Farewell, friend

[Exeunt. Arch. And so ends love's catechism-And Arch. Captain, your servant.-Captain! a pret- now, my dear, we'll go in, and make my master's ty fellow ! 'Sdeath! I wonder that the officers of bed. the army don't conspire to beat all scoundrels in Cher. Hald, hold, Mr Martin---you liave red but their own.

taken a great deal of pains to instruct me, and

what d'ye think I have learned by it? Enter CHERRY.

Arch. What ? Cher. Gone, and Martin here! I hope he did Cher. That your discourse and your habit are not listen: I would have the merit of the disco- contradictions, and it would be nonsense in me very all my own, because I would oblige him to to believe you a footman any longer. love me. Aside.] Mr Martin, who was that man Arch. 'Dons! what a witch it is! with my father?

Cher. Depend upon this, sir,--nothing in that Arch. Some recruiting serjeant, or whipp’d-out garb shall ever tempt me; for though I was born trooper, I suppose.

to servitude, I hate it

--Own your condition, Cher. All's safe, I find.

[ Aside. swear you love me, and then Arch. Come, my dear, have you conn'd over Arch. And then we shall go make my masthe catechism I taught you last night?

ter's bed? Cher. Come, question me.

Cher. Yes. Arch. What is love?

Arch. You must know, then, that I am born a Cher. Love is I know not what; it comes I gentleman; my education was liberal ; but I went know not how, goes I know not when.

to London a younger brother, fell into the hands Arch. Very well :-an apt scholar. (Chucks her of sharpers, who stripped me of my money, my under the chin.) Where does love entor?

friends disowned me, and now my necessity brings Cher. Into the eyes.

me to what you see. Arch. And wliere go

Cher. Then take my hand-promise to Cher. I won't tell you.

marry me before you sleep, and I'll make you Arch. What are the objects of that passion? master of two thousand pounds. Cher. Youth, beauty, and clean linen.

Arch. How ! Arch. The reason ?

Cher. Two thousand pounds, that I have this Cher. The two first are fashionable in nature, minute in my own custody: so throw off your and the third at court.

livery this instant, and I'll go find a parson. Arch. That's my dear. What are the signs Arch. What said you ? a parson ! and tokens of that passion?

Cher. What! Do you scruple? Cher. A stealing look, a stammering tongue, Arch. Scruple! No, no; but-two thousand words improbable, designs impossible, and ac- pounds, you say? tions impracticable.

Cher. And better. Arch. That's my good child ; kiss me

Arch. 'Sdeath! wbat shall I do? But bark What must a lover do to obtain his mistress? ye, child; what need you make me master of your

out?

self and money, when you may have the same the mean while, be satisfied that no discovery I pleasure out of me, and still keep your fortune in make shall ever hurt you ; but beware of my fayour own hands?

ther. ---

[Exit. Cher. Then you won't marry me?

Arch. So we're like to have as many advenArck. I would marry you, but

tures in our inn as Don Quixotte had in bis.Cher. O! sweet sir, I'm your humble servant : Let me see-two thousand pounds! If the wench you're fairly caught. Would you persuade me would promise to die when the money were spent, that any gentleman who could bear the scandal of 'egal, one would marry her ; but the fortune may wearing a livery would refuse two thousand go off in a year or two, and the wife may live pounds, let the condition be what it would-No, -Lord knows how long ! Then an inn-keepno, sir--But I hope you'll pardon the freedom Í er's daughter! Ay, that's the devil!--there my have taken, since it was only to inform myself of pride brings me off. the respect that I ought to pay you. (Going

Arch. Fairly bit, by Jupiter ! -Hold, hold ! For whatsoe'er the sages charge on pride, and have you actually two thousand pounds ? The angels' fall, and twenty faults beside;

Cher. Sir, I have my secrets as well as you On earth, I'm sure, 'mong us of mortal calling, when you please to be more open, I shall be more Pride saves man oft, and woman too, from fallfree; and be assured that I have discoveries that

ing.

(Erit. will match yours, be they what they will. ---In

ACT III.

set him off, no studied looks, no artful posture, SCENE I.- Lady BOUNTIFUL's House. -but nature did it all.

Mrs Sul. Better and better-One touch more Enter Mrs SULLEN and DORINDA.

-Come Mrs Sul. Ha, ha, ha!—My dear sister ! let me Dor. But then his looks—did you observe his embrace thee, now we are friends indeed; for I eyes ? shall have a secret of yours as a pledge for mine Mrs Sul. Yes, yes, I did --his eyes; well,

Now you'll be good for something; I shall what of his eyes ? have you conversable in the subjects of the sex. Dor. Sprightly, but not wand'ring; they seem

Dor. But do you think that I am so weak as ed to view, but never gaz'd on any thing but me to fall in love with a fellow at first sight? -and then his looks so humble were, and yet so

Mrs Sul. Pshaw ! now you spoil all :- Why noble, that they aimed to tell me, that he could should not we be as free in our friendships as the with pride die at my feet, though he scorned slamen ?-I warrant you, the gentleman has got to

very any where else. his confidant already, has avowed his passion, Mrs Sul. The physic works purely! How toasted your health, called you ten thousand an- d’ye find yourself now, my dear? gels, has run over your lips, eyes, neck, shape, Dor. Hem! Much better, my dear.-Oh, here air, and every thing, in a description that warms comes our Mercury ! their mirth to a second enjoyment. Dor. Your hand, sister: I a'n't well.

Enter SCRUB. Mrs Sul. So-she's breeding already—Come, Dor. Well, Scrub, what news of the gentlechild, up with it-hem a little-so-Now tell man? me, don't you like the gentleman that we saw Scrub. Madam, I have brought you a whole at church just now?

packet of news. Dor. The man's well enough.

Dor. Open it quickly; come. Mrs Sul. Well enough! Is he not a demi-god, Scrub. in the first place, I enquired who the a Narcissus, a star, the man i' the moon ? gentleman was? They told me he was a stranger, Dor. O, sister ! I'm extremely ill.

Secondly, I asked what the gentleman was? Mrs Sul. Shall I send to your mother, child, They answered and said, that they never saw him for a little cephalic plaster, to put to the soles of before. Thirdly, I enquired what countryman your feet? Or shall I send to the gentleman for he was? They reply'd, 'twas more than they something for you?Come, unbosom yourself knew. Fourthly, I demanded whence he came? --the man is perfectly a pretty fellow : I saw him Their answer was, they could not tell. And fifthwhen he first came into church.

ly, I asked whither he went ? and they reply'd, Dor. I saw him too, sister, and with an air they knew nothing of the matter. -And this that shone, methought, like rays about his per- is all I could learn.

Mrs Sul. But what do the people say? Cann't Mrs Sul. Well said ;-up with it.

they guess? Dor. No forward coquet behaviour, no air to Scrub. Why, some think he's a spy, some guess

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he's a mountebank, some say one thing, some her harvest :-corn, wine, and oil, milk, honey, another; but, for my own part, I believe he's a gardens, groves, and purling streams, play'd on jesuit !

her plenteous face. Dor. A jesuit! why a jesuit ?

Arch. Her face! her pocket, you mean ! the Scrub. Because he keeps his horses always corn, wine, and oil lie there. In short, she has ready saddled, and his footman talks French. twenty thousand pounds, that's the English on't. Mrs Sul. His footman !

Aim. Her eyesScrub. Ay, he and the count's footmen were

Arch. Are demi-cannons, to be sure; so I gabbering French like two intriguing ducks in a won't stand their battery.

(Going. mill-pond; and I believe they talked of me; for Aim. Pray, excuse me; my passion must have they laugh'd consumedly.

vent. Dor. What sort of livery has the footnan? Arch. Passion! What a plague! d’yethink these

Scrub. Livery! Lord, madam, I took him for romantic airs will do our business? Were my a captain, he's so bedizzen’d with lace; and then temper as extravagant as yours, my adventures he has tops to his shoes, up to his mid-leg, a sil have something more romantic, by half. ver-headed cane dangling at his knuckles :-he Aim. Your adventures ! carries his hands in his pockets, and walks just Arch. Yes. 80-[Walks in a French air) and has a fine long The nymph that with her twice ten hundred perriwig ty'd up in a bag-Lord, madam, be's

pounds, clear another sort of a man than I.

With brazen engine hot, and coif clear-starch'd, Mrs Sul. That may casily be. -But what Can fire the guest in warming of the bedshall we do now, sister?

There's a touch of sublime Milton for you, and Dor. I have it This fellow has a world of the subject but an inn-keeper's daughter! I can simplicity, and soine cunning; the first hides the play with a girl as an angler does with his fish; latter by abundance. -Scrub !

he keeps it at the end of his line, runs it up the Scrub. Madam.

stream and down the stream, till at last he brings Dor. We have a great mind to know who this it to hand, tickles the trout, and so whips it into genileman is, only for our satisfaction.

his basket. Scrub. Yes, madam, it would be a satisfaction,

Enter BONIFACE. no doubt. Dor. You must go and get acquainted with his

Bon. Mr Martin, as the saying is -yonder's footman, and invite him hither to drink a bottle

an honest fellow below, my lady Bountiful's butof your ale, because you're butler to-day.

ler, who begs the honour that

you would go home Scrub. Yes, niadam, I'm butler every Sunday.

with him, and see his cellar. Mrs Sul. O, brave sister ! o' my conscience

Arch. Do my baise-mains to the gentleman, you understand the mathematics already.—'Tis and tell him I will do myself the honour to wait the best plot in the world! Your mother, you

on him immediately, as the saying is. know, will be gone to church, my spouse will be

Bon. I shall do your worship’s commands, as got to the ale-house with his scoundrels, and the

the saying is. [Exit, bowing obsequiously. house will be our own-so we drop in by acci

Aim. What do I hear ? soft Orpheus play, and

fair Toftida sing! dent, and ask the fellow some questions our

Arch. Pshaw! Damn your raptures: I tell you selves. In the country, you know, any stranger is company, and we're glad to take up with the here's a pump going to be put into the vessel, and butler in a country dance, and happy if he will

the ship will get into harbour ;-my life on't.do us the favour.

You say there's another lady very handsome there. Scrub. Oh, madam, you wrong me! I never

Aim. Yes, faith.

Arch. I'm in love with her already. refus’d your ladyship a favour in my life.

Aim. Cann't you give me a bill upon Cherry in Enter GIPSEY.

the mean time? Gip. Ladies, dinner's

Arch. No, no, friend; all her corn, wine, and table.

upon Dór. Scrub, we'll excuse your waiting. --Go

oil is engross'd to my market !

And once where we order'd you.

more I warn you to keep your anchorage clear Scrub. I shall.

[Exeunt.

of mine; for if you fall foul of me, by this light,

you shall go the bottom -What! make a SCENE II.-Changes to the Inn.

prize of my little frigate, while I am opon the

cruise for you. You're a pretty fellow indeed ! Enter AimwELL and Arcier.

[Erit.

Enter BONIFACE. Arch. Well, Tom, I find you're a marksman.

Aim. A marksman! who so blind could be as Aim. Well, well, I won't -Landlord, have not discern a swan among the ravens ?

you any tolerable company in the house? I don't Arch. Well, but hark'e, Aimwell.

care for dining alone. Aim. Aimwell! call me Oroondates, Cesario, Bon. Yes, sir, there's a captain below, as the Amadis, all that romance can in a lover paint, saying is, that arriv'd about an hour ago. and then I'll answer. Oh, Archer! I read her Aim. Gentlemen of his coat are welcome evethousands in her looks: she look'd like Ceres in 1 ry where: will you make a compliment for me,

ure;

and tell him I should be glad of his company,
that's all ?

Gib. Ay, sir; you must excuse me. Sir, I un

derstand the world, especially the art of travelBon. Who shall I tell him, sir, would ling. I don't care, sir, for answering questions Ain. Ha! that stroke was well thrown in directly upon the road; for I generally ride with --I'm only a traveller, like himself, and would a charge about me. be glad of his company, that's all.

Aim. Three or four, I believe. (Aside. Bon. I obey your commands, as the saying is. Gib. I am credibly inform’d that there are

(E.cit. highwaymen upon this quarter; not, sir, that I

could suspect a gentleman of your figureEnter ARCHER.

But, truly, sir, I have got such a way of evasion Arch. 'Sdeath! I had forgot :-What title will upon the road, that I don't care for speaking you give yourself?

truth to any man. Aim. My brother's, to be sure ; he would never Aim. Your caution may be necessarygive me any thing else, so I'll make bold with his Then I presume you're no captain. honour this bout. -You know the rest of Gib. Not I, sir ; captain is a good travelling your cue?

name, and so I take it; it stops a great many Arch. Ay, ay.

(Exit. | foolish enquiries that are generally made about

gentlemen that travel ; it gives a man an air of Enter GIBRET.

something, and makes the drawers obedientGib. Sir, I'm yours.

and thus far I am a captain, and no farther. Aim. 'Tis more than I deserve, sir; for I don't Aim. And pray, sir, what is your true profesknow you.

sion? Gib. I don't wonder at that, sir; for you never Gib. O! sir, you must excuse me-upon my saw me before I hope.

(Aside.word, sir, I don't think it safe to tell you. Aim. And pray, sir, how came I by the honour Aim. Ha, ha! upon my word, I commend of seeing you now?

you. Gib. Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentle

Enter BONIFACE. man-but my landlord

dim. O, sir, I ask your pardon! you're the cap- Well, Mr Boniface, what's the news ? tain he told me of.

Bon. There's another gentleman below, as the Giba At your service, sir.

saying is, that, hearing you were but two, would Aim. What regiment, may I be so bold? be glad to make the third man, if you'd give him Gib. A marching regiment, sir ; an old corps. leave.

Aim. Veryold, if your coat be regimental. (Aside.] Aim. What is he?
You have serv'd abroad, sir?

Bon. A clergyman, as the saying is. Gib. Yes, sir, in the plantations; 'twas my lot Aim. A clergyman! Is he really a clergyman? to be sent into the worst service: I would have or is it only his travelling name, as my friend the quitted it indeed, but a man of honour, you know captain has it?

Besides, 'twas for the good of my country Bon. ()! sir, he's a priest, and chaplain to the
that I should be abroad — Any thing for the French officers in town.
good of one's country—I'm a Roman for that. Aim. Is he a Frenchman?

Aim. One of the first, I'll lay my life. (Aside.] Bon. Yes, sir, born at Brussels.
You found the West Indies very hot, sir?

Gib. A Frenchman, and a priest! I won't be
Gib. Ay, sir, too hot for me.

seen in his company, sir : I have a value for my Aim. Pray, sir, ha’n’t I seen your face at reputation, sir. Wills' Coffee-house?

Aim. Nay, but, captain, since we are by ourGib. Yes, sir, and at White's too.

selves-Can he speak English, landlord ? Aim. And where's your company now, cap Bon. Very well, sir. You may know him, as tain ?

the saying is, to be a foreigner by his accent, and Gib. They aʼn't come yet.

that's all. Aim. Why, d'ye expect them here?

Aim. Then he has been in England before? Gib. They'll be here to-night, sir.

Bon. Never, sir; but he's master of languages, Aim. Which way do they march?

as the saying is; he talks Latin; it does me Gib. Across the country.—The devil's in't good to hear him talk Latin. if I ha'n't said enough to encourage him to de Aim. Then you understand Latin, Mr Boniface? clare-but I'm afraid he's not right ;-I must tack Bon. Not Í, sir, as the saying is ; but he talks about.

[ Aside. it so very fast, that I'm sure it must be good. Aim. Is your company to quarter at Litch Aim. Pray, desire him to walk up. field ?

Bon. Here he is, as the saying is.
Gib. In this house, sir.

Enter FoiGARD.
Aim. What! all ?

Gib. My company is but thin,--ha, ha, ha!-we Foig. Save you, gentlemens bote! are but three-ha, ha, ha!

Aim. A Frenchman !--Sir, your most humble Aim. You're merry, sir.

seryant,

5

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Foig. Och, dear joy! I am your most faithful Arch. Ay, ay, to be sure, there are secrets in shervant, and yours alsho.

all families. Gib. Doctor, you talk very good English, but Scrube Secrets, O Lud! but I'll say no you have a mighty twang of the foreigner. more-Come, sit down, we'll make an end of

Foig. My English is very well for the vords ; our tankard. Here but we foreigners, you know, cannot bring our Arch. With all my heart: who knows but you tongues about the pronunciation so soon. and I may come to be better acquainted, eh!

Āim. A foreigner !-a downright Teague, by Here's your lady's health: you have three, I this light. [.4side.] Were you bom in France, think; and, to be sure, there must be secrets doctor?

among 'em. Foig. I was educated in France, but I was Scrub. Secrets ! Ah! friend, friend ! I borned at Brussels: I am a subject of the king wish I had a friendof Spain, joy!

Arch. Am I not your friend ? Come, you and Gib. What king of Spain, sir? Speak.

I will be sworn brothers, Foig. Upon my shoul, joy, I cannot tell you

Scrub. Shall we? as yet.

Arch. From this minute

-Give me a kiss ! Aim. Nay, captain, that was too hard upon And now, brother Scrub the doctor; he's a stranger.

Scrub. And now, brother Martin, I will tell Foig. O! let him alone, dear joy; I'm of a na. you a secret that will make your hair stand an tion that is not easily put out of countenance. end-You must know, that I am consumed

Aim. Come, gentlemen, I'll end the dispute ly in love.
-Here, landlord, is dinner ready?

Arch. That's a terrible secret, that's the truth Bon. Upon the table, as the saying is.

on't. Aim. Gentlemen-pray that door

Scrub. That jade Gipsey, that was with us Foig. No, no, fait; the captain must lead. just now in the cellar, is the arrantest whore that Aim. No, doctor; the church is our guide. ever wore a petticoat, and I'm dying for love of Gib. Ay, ay, so it is.

ber. (Exit foremost, they follow. Arch. Ha, ha, ha! Are you in love with

her person, or her virtue, brother Serub? SCENE III.-Clunges to a Gallery in Lady Scrub. I should like virtue best, because it's BOUNTIFUL's House,

more durable than beauty; for virtue holds good Enter ARCHER und SCRUB singing, and hugging they have lost it.

with some women, long and many a day after one another; SCRUB with a tankard in his

Arch. In the country, I grant ye, where no hand : Gipsy listening at a distance.

woman's virtue is lost, till a bastard be found. Scrub. Tall, all, dall -Come, my dear boy Scrub. Ay, could I bring her to a bastard, I -let's have that song once more.

should have her all to myself; but I dare not Arch. No, no, we shall disturb the family put it upon that lay, for fear of being sent for a But will you be sure to keep the secret ? soldier-Pray, brother, how do you gentlemen in

Scrub. Pho! upon my honour, as I'm a gen- London like that same pressing act? tleman.

Arch. Very ill, brother Scrub 'Tis the Arch. 'Tis enough -You must know then, worst that ever was made for us: formerly, I rethat my master is the lord viscount Aimwell; he member the good days when we could dun our foughta duel t’other day in London, wounded masters for our wages, and if they refused to pay his man so dangerously that he thinks fit to with us, we could have a warrant to carry 'em before draw till he hears whether thegentleman's wounds a justice; but now, if we talk of eating, they be mortal or not: he never was in this part of have a warrant for us, and carry us before three England before, so he chose to retire to this justices. place; that's all.

Scrub. And, to be sure, we go, if we talk of eatGip. And that's enough for me. [Exit. ing; for the justices won't give their own serScrub. And where were you when your master vants a bad example. Now, this is my

misfortune fought ?

I dare not speak in the house, while that Arch. We never know of our master's quar- jade Gipsey dings about like a fury. Once I rels.

had the better end of the staff, Scrub. No! if our masters in the country, Arch. And how comes the change now? here, receive a challenge, the first thing they do Scrub. Why, the mother of all this mischief is is to tell their wives; the wife tells the servants; a priest. the servants alarm the tenants ; and in half an Arch, A priest ! hour you shall have the whole country up in arms. Scrub. Ay, a damn'd son of a whore of Baby

Arch. To hinder two men from doing what lon, that came over hither to say grace to the they have no mind for-_But if you should French officers, and eat up our provisionschance to talk, now, of this business?

There's not a day goes over his head without a Scrub. Talk! Ah! sir, had I not learn'd the dinner or supper in this house. knack of holding my tongue, I had never liv'd so Arch. How came he so familiar in the family! long in a great family.

Scrub. Because he speaks English as if he had

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