Har. About an hundred and fifty, Sir Gregory. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! and all full, I reckon; full as an egg; nothing but news! Well, well, I shall go to London one of these days. A hundred and fifty? Wonderful! And pray, now, which do you reckon the best? Har. Oh, Sir Gregory, they are various in their excellencies, as their uses. If you are inclined to blacken, by a couple of lines, the reputation of a neighbour, you may do it for two shillings in one paper: if you are displaced, or disappointed of a place, a triplet against the ministry will be always well received at the head of another; and then, as a paper of morning amusement, you have the Fool. Sir Gre. The Fool? good lack! and pray who and what may that same fool be? Har. Why, Sir Gregory, the author has artfully assumed that habit, like the royal jesters of old, to level his satire with more security to himself, and severity to others. Sir Gre. May be so, may be so! The Fool! ha, ha, ha! Well enough; a queer dog, and no fool, I warrant you. Killigrew; ah, I have heard my grandfather talk much of that same Killigrew, and no fool. But what's all this to news, Mr. Hartop? Who gives us the best account of the king of Spain, and the queen of Hungary, and those great folks? Come now, you could give us a little news, if you would; come now-snug! -nobody by. Good now, do; come, ever so little. Har. Why, as you so largely contribute to the support of the government, it is but fair you should know what they are about. We are at present in a treaty with the pope. Sir Gre. With the pope! Wonderful! Good now, good now! How, how! Har. We are to yield him up a large track of the Terra-incognita, together with both the Needles, Scilly-rocks, and the Lizard-point, on condition that the pretender has the government of Laputa, and the bishop of Greenland succeeds to St. Peter's chair; he being, you know, a protestant, when possessed of the pontificals, issues out a bull, commanding all catholics to be of his religion; they, deeming the pope infallible, follow his directions; and then, Sir Gregory, we are all of one mind. Sir Gre. Good lack, good lack! Rare news, rare news, rare news! Ten millions of thanks, Mr. Hartop. But might not I just hint this to Mr. Soakum, our vicar? 'twould rejoice his heart. Har. O fie, by no means! Sir Gre. Only a line-a little bint-do now? Sir Gre. Good now; I'll minute it-the Lizard-point-both the Needles-Scilly-rocksbishop of Greenland-St. Peter's chair-Why then, when this is finished, we may chance to attack the great Turk, and have holy wars again, Mr. Hartop. Har. That's part of the scheme. Sir Gre. Ah, good now! You see I have a head! Politics have been my study many a day. Ah, if I had been in London to improve by the news-papers,! They tell me Dr. Drybones is to succeed to the bishoprick of Wisper? Har. No; Doctor Sir Gre. Indeed! I was told by my landlord at Ross, that it was between him and the dean of Har. To my knowledge. Sir Gre. Nay, you know best, to be sure. If it should- -Hush! here's Mr. Jenkins and son Tim-mum!-Mr. Jenkins does not know any thing about the treaty with the pope? Har. Not a word. Sir Gre. Mum! Enter TIM and MR. JENKINS. Jen. Mr. Timothy is almost grown out of knowledge, Sir Gregory. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! ay, ay; Ill weeds grow a-pace. Son Tim, Mr. Hartop; a great man, child! Mr. Hartop, son Tim. Har. Sir, I shall be always glad to know every branch that springs from so valuable a trunk as Sir Gregory Gazette. Sir Gre. May be so. Wonderful! ay, ay. Har. Sir, I am glad to see you in Herefordshire-Have you been long from Cornwall? Tim. Ay, sir, a matter of four weeks or a month, more or less. Sir Gre. Well said, Tim! Ay, ay, ask Tim any questions, he can answer for himself. Tim tell Mr. Hartep all the news about the elections, and the tinners, and the tides, and the roads, and the pilchards. I want a few words with Mr. Jenkins. Har. You have been so long absent from your native country, that you have almost forgot it. Tim. Yes sure. I ha' been at uncle Tregegle's a matter of twelve or a dozen year, more or less. Har. Then I reckon you were quite impatient to see your papa and mamma? Tim. No sure, not I. Father sent for me to uncle.-Sure Menegizy is a choice place! and I could a staid there all my born days, more or less. Har. Pray, sir, what were your amusements? Tim. Oh, we ha' pastimes enow there ;--we ha' bull-baiting, and cock-fighting, and fishing, and hunting, and hurling, and wrestling. Har. The two last are sports, for which that country is very remarkable;-in those, I presume, you are very expert? Tim. Nan! What? Har. I say you are a good wrestler. Tim. Oh, yes sure, I can wrestle well enow: --but we don't wrestle after your fashion; we ha' no tripping, fath and sole! we go all upon close hugs, or the flying mare. Will you try a fall, master?--I won't hurt you, fath and sole. Har. We had as good not venture though. But have you left in Cornwall nothing that you regret the loss of more than hurling and wrestling? Tim. Nan! What? Har. No favourite she! Jen. Mr. Hartop, Sir Gregory will be amongst us some time-he is going with his son to Sir Penurious Trifle's- -there is a kind of a treaty of marriage on foot between Miss Sukey Trifle and Mr. Timothy. Har. The devil! [Apart.] I shall be glad of every circumstance that can make me better acquainted with Sir Gregory. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! may be so, may be so! Tim. Father, sure the gentleman says as how mother and he are a-kin! Sir Gre. Wonderful! Lack-a-day, lack-aday! how, how? I am proud to-but how, Mr. Hartop, how? Har. Why, sir, a cousin-german of my aunt's first husband intermarried with a distant relation of a collateral branch by the mother's side, the Apprices of Lantriudon; and we have ever since quartered in a 'scutcheon of pretence the three goat's tails rampant, divided by a cheveron, field-argent; with a leek pendant in the dexter point, to distinguish the second house. Tim. Arra, I coupled Favourite and Jowler together, and sure they tugged it all the way up. Part with Favourite! no, I thank you for nothing. You must know 1 nursed Favourite myself: uncle's huntsman was going to Mill- Sir Gre. Wonderful! wonderful! nearly, pond to drown all Music's puppies; so I saved nearly related! Good now, good now; if dame she. But fath, I'll tell you a comical story; at Winnifred was here, she'd make them all out Lanston, they both broke loose, and eat a with a wet finger-but they are above me. whole loin-a'-veal, and a leg of beef: Crist! Pr'ythee, Tim, good now, see after the horses How landlord sweared! fath the poor fellow-and, d'ye hear? try if you can get any newswas almost amazed; it made me die wi' laughing. But how came you to know about our Favourite? papers. Tim. Yes, father-But, cousin what-d'ye-callum, not a word about Maily Pengrouse ! Har. Mum! [Erit TIM. Har. A circumstance so material to his son, could not escape the knowledge of Sir Gregory Sir Gre. Good now, that boy will make some Gazette's friends. But here you mistook me a mistake about the horses now! I'll go myself. little, 'Squire Tim; I meant whether your affec- Good now, no farther cousin; if you please, no tions were not settled upon some pretty girl.-ceremony-A hundred and fifty news-papers a Has not some Cornish lass caught your heart? week! the Fool! ha, ha, ha! wonderful! an Tim. Hush! cod, the old man will hear; jog odd dog! [Exit SIR GREGORY. a tiny bit this way-won't a' tell father? Jen. So Jack, here's a fresh spoke in your Har. Upon my honour! wheel. Tim. Why then, I'll tell you the whole story more or less. Do you know Mally Pengrouse? Har. I am not so hippy. Tim. She's uncle's milk-maid;-she's as handsome, Lord! her face all red and white, like the inside of a shoulder of mutton: so I made love to our Mally and just, fath, as I had got her good-will to run away to Exeter and be married, uncle found it out, and sent word to father, and father sent for me home-but I don't love her a bit the worse for that. But i'cod, if you tell father, he'll knock my brains out; for he says, I'll disparage the family, and mother's as mad as a March hare about it--so father and mother ha' brought me to be married to some young body in these parts. Har. What, is my lady here? Tim. No, sure; dame Winnifred, as father calls her, could not come along. Har. I am sorry for that; I have the honour to be a distant relation of your ladyship's. Tim. Like enough, fath!-she's a-kin to half the world, I think. But don't you say a word to father about Mally Pengrouse. Hush! Har. This is a cursed cross incident! Jen. Well, but something must be done to frustrate the scheme of your new cousin's. Can you think of nothing? Har. I have been hammering: pray, are the two knights intimate? are they well acquainted with each other's person? Jen. Faith, I can't tell; but we may soon know. Har. Could you recommend me a good spirited girl, who has humour and compliance to follow a few directions, and understanding enough to barter a little inclination for 3000l. ayear and a fool? Jen. In part I guess your design; the man's daughter of the house is a good lively lass, has a fortune to make, and no reputation to lose : I'll call her-Jenny! but the enemy's at hand——— I'll withdraw, and prepare Jenny. When the worshipful family are retired, I'll introduce the wench. [Exit JENKINS. Enter SIR GREGORY and TIM. Sir Gre. Pray, now, cousin, are you in friendship with with Sir Penurious Trifle? Har. I have the honour, sir, of that gentle- | folly of Sir Penurious the father, I don't despair man's acquaintance. of a happy catastrophe. Sir Gre. May be so, may be so! but lack-aday, cousin, is he such a miser as folks say ? Good now, they tell me we shall hardly have necessaries for ourselves and horses at Gripe-hall; but as you are a relation, you should, good now, know the affairs of the family. Here's Sir Pe-ministered within. nurious's letter; here, cousin. Har. Your overture I receive with pleasure, and should be glad to meet you in Shropshire'I fancy, from a thorough knowledge of Sir Penurious's disposition, and from what I can collect from the contents of that letter, he would be much better pleased to meet you here than at his own house." Sir Gre. Lack-a-day, may be so!—a strange man! wonderful! But, good now, cousin, what must we do? Har. I am this morning going to pay Sir Penurious a visit, and if you'll honour me with your commands, I'll– Sir Gre. Wonderful! to-day!-good now, that's lucky! cousin, you are very kind. Good now, I'll send a letter, Tim, by cousin Hartop. Har. A letter from so old an acquaintance, and upon so happy an occasion, will secure me a favourable reception. Sir Gre. Good lack, good lack, an old acquaintance, indeed, cousin Hartop! we were at Hereford 'size together-let's see, wonderful, how long ago!-'twas while I was courting Dame Winny, the year before I married--Good now, how long? let's see that year the hackney stable was built, and Peter Ugly, the blind pad, fell into a saw-pit. Tim. Mother says, father and she was married the first of April in the year ten; and I knows 'tis thereabout, for I am two-and-thirty; and brother Jeremy, and Roger, and Gregory, and sister Nelly, were born before I. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! how time wears away! wonderful! thirty-eight years ago, Tim! I could not have thought it. But come in, let's set about the letter. But, pray, cousin, what diversions, good now, are going forward in London? Har. Oh, sir, we are in no distress for amusement; we have plays, balls, puppet-shews, masquerades, bull-baitings, boxings, burlettas, routs, drums, and a thousand others. But I am in haste for your epistle, Sir Gregory. Sir Gre. Cousin, your servant. [Exeunt SIR GREGORY and TIMOTHY. Har. I a am your most obedient-Thus far our scheme succeeds: and if Jenkins's girl can assume the aukward pertness of the daughter, with as much success as I can imitate the spirited Enter JENNY. Jenny. Sir, Mr. Jenkins—————— Jenny. Mr. Jenkins, has opened your design, and I am ready and able to execute my part. Har. My dear, I have not the least doubt of either your inclination or ability--But pox take this old fellow! what in the devil's name can bring him back? Scour, Jenny. Enter SIR GREGORY. Sir Gre. Cousin, I beg pardon; but I have a favour to beg-Good now, could not you make interest at some coffee-house in London, to buy, for a small matter, the old books of newspapers, and send them into the country to me? They would pass away the time rarely in a rainy day— Har. I'll send you a cart-load. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! Ten thousand thanks!-You are a cousin, indeed. But, pray, cousin, let us, good now, see some of the works of that same fool? Har. I'll send you them all; but a Sir Gre. What, all?-Lack-a-day, that's kind, cousin! The Terra-incognita-both the Needles -a great deal of that! But what bishop is to be pope? Har. Zounds, sir! I am in haste for your letter-When I return, ask as many questionsSir Gre. Good now, good now! that's trueI'll in and about it- -But, cousin, the pope is not to have Gibraltar? Har. No, no; damn it, no! As none but the Fool could say it, so none but idiots would believe him-Pray, Sir Gregory Sir Gre. Well, well, cousin; Lack-a-day! you are so-but pray Har. Damn your praying? If you don't finish your letter immediately, you may carry it self. your ACT II. SCENE I-SIR GREGORY, and TIM reading news to him, discovered. Tim. CONSTANTINOPLE, N. S. Nov. 15, the Grand Seignior Sir Gre. Lack-a-day! good now, Tim, the politics, child and read the stars, and the dashes, and the blanks, as I taught you, Tim. Tim. Yes, father-We can assure our readers, that the D-dash is to go to F blank: and that a certain noble L-is to resign his p-e in the ty in order to make room for the two three stars. Sir Gre. Wonderful! good now, good now! great news, Tim! Ah, I knew the two three stars would come in play one time or other. This London Evening knows more than any of them. Well, child, well. Tim. From the D. J. Sir Gre. Ay, that's the Dublin Journal. on, Tim. Go Tim. Last Saturday, a gang of highwaymen broke into an empty house on Ormond quay, and stripped it of all the furniture. Sir Gre. Lack-a-day, wonderful! To what a height these rogues are grown! Tim. The way to Mr. Keith's chapel, is turn off your Sir Gre. Psha! skip that, Tim; I know that road as well as the doctor: 'tis in every time. Tim. J. Ward, at the Cat and Gridiron, Petticoat lane, makes tabby all over for people inclined to be crooked; and if he was to have the universal world for making a pair of stays, he could not put better stuff in them Sir Gre. Good now; where's that, Tim? Tim. At the Cat and Gridiron, father. Sir Gre. I'll minute that? All my Lady Isard's children, good now, are inclined to be crooked. Sir Gre. Lack-a-day, ay, ay. Pray, is cousin Hartop come along? Jenk. I have not seen him; but I fancy I had better introduce my neighbours. Sir Gre. Good now, would you be so kind? [Exit JENKINS.] Stand behind me, Tim-Pull down your ruffles, child. Tim. But, father, won't Miss Suck think me bold, if I kiss her chops the first time? Faint Sir Gre. Lack-a-day! no, Tim, no. heart never won fair lady. Ha, Tim, had you but seen me attack dame Winny! But times aren't as they werc. Good now, we were another kind of folks in those days; stout_hearty smacks, that would ha' made your mouth water again; and the mark stood upon the pouting lip, like the print upon a pound of butter. But the master-misses of the present age go, lack-aday, as gingerly about it, as if they were afraid to fill their mouths with the paint upon their mistresses' cheeks. Ah, the days I have seen! Tim. Nay, father, I warrant, if that's all, I kiss her hearty enow, fath and sole! Sir Gre. Hush, Tim, hush! Stand behind me, child. Enter HARTOP as SIR PENURIOUS TRIFLE, and JENNY as MISS SUKEY, and JENKINS. Sir Gre. Sir Penurious, I am overjoyed!Good now! Har. Sir Gregory, I kiss your hand. My daughter Suck. Sir Gre. Wonderful!-Miss, I am proud to -Son Tim-Sir Penurious-Best bow, childMiss Suck Tim. An't that right, father? [Kisses her. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! I am glad to see you look so well. You keep your own, Sir Penurious. Har. Ay, ay, stout enough, Sir Gregory; stout enough, brother knight; hearty as an oak. Hey, Dick? Gad, now I talk of an oak, I'll tell you a story of an oak. It will make you die with laughing. Hey, you Dick, you have heard it; shall I tell it Sir Gregory? Jen. Though I have heard it so often, yet there is something so engaging in your manner of telling a story, that it always appears new. Sir Gre. Wonderful! good now, good now; I love a comical story. Pray, Sir Penurious, let's have it.-Mind, Tim; mind, child. Tim. Yes, father; fath and solc, I love a choice story to my heart's blood! Har. You knight, I was at Bath last summer a water that people drink when they are You have heard of the bath, Dick? Hey, ill. Sir Gre. Hush, Tim; good now, hush! Har. There's a coffee-house, you—a place where people drink coffee and tea, and read the news. Sir Gre. Pray, Sir Penurious, how many papers may they take in? Har. Psha! damn the news! mind the story. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! a hasty man, Tim! Har. Pox take you both! I have lost the story-Where did I leave off? Hey-you Dick. Tim. About coffee, and tea. Sir Gre. Good now, good now! Wonderful! Tim. A choice tale, fath! Jen. Oh, Sir Penurious is a most entertaining companion, that must be allowed. Sir Gre. Good now, ay, ay, a merry man! But lack-a-day, would not the young lady choose a little refreshment after her ride? Some tea, or some Har. Hey, you knight! No; no; we intend to dine with thee, man. Well, you, Tim, what dost think of thy father-in-law that is to be, hey? A jolly cock, you, Tim; hey, Dick? But, pr'ythee, boy, what dost do with all this tawdry tinsel on? that hat and waistcoat? trash, knight, trash! more in thy pocket, and less in thy clothes; hey, you Dick? ecod, you knight, I'll make you laugh, I went to London, you, Dick, last year, to call in a mortgage; and what does me, I, Dick, but take a trip to a coffee-house in St. Martin's-lane; in comes a French fellow forty times as fine as Tim, with his muff and parlevous, and his Frances! and his head, you knight, as white with powder, ecod, you, as a twelfth cake: and who the devil d'ye think, Dick, this might be, hey, you knight? Sir Gre. Good now, an ambassador, to be sure. Har. Ecod, you knight, nor better nor worse than Mynheer Vancaper, a dutch figure-dancer ot the opera house in the Haymarket. Sir Gre. Wonderful! good now, good now! Har. Psha! Pox, pr'ythee, Tim, nobody dresnow; all plain: look at me, knight; I am in the tip of the mode: now am I in full dress; hey, Dick ? Har. Right, right! True, true; So, ecod, you knight, I used to breakfast at this coffeehouse every morning; it cost me eight-pence, though, and I had always a breakfast at homeno matter for that, though! there I breakfasted, you, Dick, ecod, at the same table with Lord Tom Truewit-You have heard of Truewit, you knight, a droll dog! You, Dick, he told us the story, and made us die with laughing. You have heard of Charles II. you knight; he was son of Charles I. king here in England, that was beheaded by Oliver Cromwell: So, what does Charles I. you knight do? But he fights Noll at Worcester, a town you have heard of, not far off: but all would not do, you: ecod, Noll made him scamper, made him run, take to his heels, you knight. Truewit told us the story, made us die with laughing. I always breakfasted at the coffee-house; it cost me eight-pence, though I had a breakfast at home-So what does Charles do, but hid himself in an oak, an oak-tree, you, in a wood, called Boscobel, from two Italian words, Boscoses Bello, a fine wood, you; and off he marches: but old Noll would not let him come home; no, says he, you don't come here. Lord Tom told us the story; made us die with laughing; it cost me eight-pence, though I had a breakfast at home. So, you knight, when Noll died, Monk there, you, afterwards Albermarle, in the north, brought him back. So, you, the cavaliers, you have heard of them? they were friends to the Stuarts. What did they do, ecod, you Dick! But they put up Charles in a sign, the Royal Oak; you have seen such signs at country ale-houses: so, ecod, you, what does a puritan do?-the puritans were friends to Noll -but he puts up the sign of an owl in the ivybush, and underneath he writes, This is not the royal oak.' You have seen writings under signs, you knight? Upon this, says the royalists, ecod, this must not be; so, you, what do they do, but, ecod, they prosecuted the poor puritan; but they made him change his sign, though. And you, Dick, how do you think they changed it? Ecod, he puts up the royal oak, and underneath he writes, This is not the owl in the ivy bush. It made us all die with laughing. Lord Tom told the story. I always breakfasted at the coffee-house, though it cost ine eight-knight! pence, and I had a breafast at home; hey, you knight? What, Dick. hey? Jen. You, sir, don't want the aid of dress; but in Mr. Gazette, a little regard to that particular is but a necessary compliment to his mistress. Har. Stuff, Dick, stuff! my daughter, knight, has had otherguess breeding. Hey, you, Suck, come forward. Plain as a pike-staff, knight; all as nature made her; hey, Tim? no flams. Pr'ythee, Tim, off with thy lace and burn it; 'twill help to buy the licence: she'll not like thee a bit the better for that; hey, Suck? but you, knight! ecod, Dick, a toast and tankard would not be amiss after our walk; hey, you? Sir Gre. Good now, good now! What you will, Sir Penurious. Har. Ecod, that's hearty, you! but we won't part the young couple, hey? I'll send Suck some bread and cheese in; hey, knight? at her, Tim. Come, Dick; come, you knight. Did I ever tell you my courtship, hey, Dick? 'twill make you laugh." Jen. Not as I remember. Sir Gre. Lack-a-day, let's have it. Har. You know my wife was blind, you, Sir Gre. Good now, wonderful! not I. Har. Blind as a beetle when I married her, knight; hey Dick? she was drowned in our |