find my way home; and knowing your worship's hospitality, desire the favour to be harboured under your roof to-night. Lady. Out of my house, you lewd conjurer, you magician! Doc. Here's a turn!-Here's a change!-Well, if I have any art, ye shall smart for this. [Aside. Sir John. You see, friend, I am not master of my own house; therefore, to avoid any uneasiness, go down the lane about a quarter of a mile, and you'll see a cobler's cottage; stay there a little, and I'll send my servant to conduct you to atenant's house, where you'll be well entertained. Doc. I thank you, sir; I'm your most humble servant. But, as for your lady there, she shall this night feel my resentment, [Exit. Sir John. Come, madam; you and I must have some conference together. Lady. Yes, I will have a conference and a reformation, too, in this house, or I'll turn it upside down-I will. AIR.-Contented country farmer. Sir John. Grant me, ye powers, but this request, SCENE III.-The Cobler's. NELL, and the Doctor. [Exeunt. Nell. Pray, sir, mend your draught, if you please; you are very welcome, sir. Doc. Thank you heartily, good woman, and to requite your civility, I'll tell you your fortune. Nell. O, pray do, sir; I never had my fortune told me in my life. Doc. Let me behold the lines in your face. Nell. I'm afraid, sir, 'tis none of the cleanest; I have been about dirty work all this day. Doc. Come, come, 'tis a good face; be not ashamed of it; you shall shew it in greater places suddenly. Nell. O dear sir, I shall be mightily ashamed! I want dacity when I come before great folks. Doc. You must be confident, and fear nothing; there is much happiness attends you. Nell. Oh me! this is a rare man! Heaven be thanked! Doc. To-morrow, before sunrise, you shall be the happiest woman in this country. Nell. How! by to-morrow? alack-a-day! sir, how can that be? Doc. No more shall you be troubled with a surly husband, that rails at, and straps you. Nell. Lud! how came he to know that? He must be a conjurer! Indeed my husband is somewhat rugged, and in his cups will beat me, but it is not much. He's an honest pains-taking man, and I let him have his way. Pray, sir, take the other cup of ale. Doc. I thank you.-Believe, me, to-morrow you shall be the richest woman in the hundred, and ride in your own coach. Nell. O father! Doc. By my art, I do not. But mark my words; be confident, and bear all out, or worse will follow. Nell. Never fear, sir, I warrant yougemini! a coach! AIR.-Send home my long-strayed eyes. Enter JOBSON. Job. Where is this quean? Here, Nell! What a pox, are you drunk with your lamb's-wooll? Nell. O husband! here's the rarest man-he has told me my fortune! Job. Has he so? and planted my fortune, too! lusty pair of horns upon my head!-Eh? -Is it not so? Doc. Thy wife is a virtuous woman, and thou wilt be happy. Job. Come out, you hang-dog, you juggler, you cheating, bamboozling villain! must I be cuckolded by such rogues as you are? mackmaticians, and almanack-makers! Nell. Prithee, peace, husband! we shall be rich, and have a coach of our own. Job. A coach! a cart, a wheel-barrow, you jade!- -By the mackin, she's drunk, bloody drunk, most confoundedly drunk!-Get you to bed, you strumpet. [Beats her. Nell. O, mercy on us! is this a taste of my good fortune? Doc. You had better not have touched her, you surly rogue. Job. Out of my house, you villain, or I'll run my awl up to the handle in your body! Doc. Farewell, you paltry slave. Job. Get out, you rogue! [Exeunt. AIR.-Charming Sally. Of all the trades from east to west, or is she drunk still? But to his last still labours, Lady. Heyday! what impudent ballad-singing rogue is that, who dares wake me out of my sleep? I'll have you flead, you rascal! Job. What a pox! does she talk in her sleep? [Sings. AIR.-Now ponder well, ye parents dear. In Bath, a wanton wife did dwell, As Chaucer he did write, Who wantonly did spend her time In many a fond delight. All on a time sore sick she was, Job. Ay, the jade's asleep still; the conjurer told her she should keep her coach, and she is dreaming of her equipage. [Sings. I will come in, in spite, she said, Thou first broke the commandement, When Adam heard her say these words, Lady. Why, husband! Sir John! will you suffer me to be thus insulted? Job. Husband! Sir John! what a-pox, has she knighted me? And my name's Zekel too! a good jest, faith! Lady. Ha! he's gone; he is not in the bed. Heaven where am I? Foh! what loathsome smells are here? Canvass sheets, and a filthy ragged curtain; a beastly rug, and a flock bed. Am I awake? or is it all a dream? What rogue is that? Sirrah! Where am I? Who brought me hither? What rascal are you? Job. This is amazing! I never heard such words from her before. If I take my strap to you, I'll make you know your husband. I'll teach you better manners, you saucy drab! Lady. Oh, astonishing impudence! You my husband, sirrah? I'll have you hanged, you rogue! I'm a lady. Let me know who has given me a sleeping-draught, and conveyed me hither, you dirty varlet? Job. A sleeping-draught! yes, you drunken jade; you had a sleeping-draught with-a-pox to you. What, has not your lambs-wooll done working yet? husband put me? Lucy! Lettice! Where are Lady. Where am I? Where has my villainous my queans? maids, too? The conjurer has made her mad as Job. Ha, ha, ha! what, does she call her well as drunk. Lady. He talks of conjurers; sure I am bewitched. Ha! what clothes are here? a lindseywoolsey gown, a calico hood, a red bays petticoat! I am removed from my own house by witchcraft. What must I do? What will become of me? [Horns wind without. Job. Hark! the hunters and the merry horns are abroad. Why, Nell, you lazy jade, 'tis break of day! to work, to work! come and spin, you drab, or I'll tan your hide for you! What-a-pox, must I be at work two hours before you in a morning? Lady. Why, sirrah, thou impudent villain, dost thou not know me, you rogue? Job. Know you! yes, I know you well enough, and I'll make you know me before I have done with you. Lady. I am Sir John Loverule's lady; how came I here? Job. Sir Johu Loverule's lady! no, Nell; not quite so bad, neither; that damned stingy, fanatic whore, plagues every one that comes near her; the whole country curses her. Lady. Nay, then, I'll hold no longer; you rogue! you insolent villain! I'll teach you better manners. [Flings the bedstaff, and other things, at him. Job. This is more than ever I saw by her; I never had an ill word from her before. Come, strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I warrant you, quean. [He straps her, she flies at him. Lady. I'll pull your throat out; I'll tear out your eyes! I am a lady, sirrah. O murder! murder! Sir John Loverule will hang you for this; murder! murder! Job. Come, hussy, leave fooling, and come to your spinning, or else I'll lamb you; you ne'er was so lambed since you were an inch long. Take it up, you jade. [She flings it down, he straps her. Lady. What shall I do? I can't spin. [Aside. The cobler has nought to perplex him ; And her he can strap if she vex him. He's out of the power There's none to be found that will trust him. Heyday, I think the jade's brain is turned! What, have you forgot to spin, hussy? Lady. But I have not forgot to run. I'll e'en try my feet; I shall find somebody in the town, sure, that will succour me. [She runs out. Job. What, does she run for it? I'll after her. [He runs out. SCENE I.-Changes to SIR JOHN's house. NELL in bed. ACT II. Let. Now's my time! what, to have another tooth beat out! -Madam! Nell. What dost say, my dear?- -O father! Let. What work would your ladyship please to have done to-day? Shall I work plain work, or go to my stitching? Nell. Work, child! 'tis holiday; no work to day. Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had to-what would she have! night! Methought I was in paradise, upon a bed of violets and roses, and the sweetest husband by my side! Ha! bless me, where am I now? What sweets are these? No garden in the spring can equal them: AmIon a bed? The sheets are sarsenet sure! no linen ever was so fine. What a gay silken robe have I got? O Heaven! dream! Yet, if this be a dream, I would not wish to wake again. Sure, I died last night, and went to Heaven, and this is it, Enter Lucy. I Lucy. Now must I awake an alarm, that will not lie still again till midnight, at soonest; the first greeting, I suppose, will be jade, or whore. Madam! madam! Nell, O gemini! who's this? What dost say, sweetheart? Lucy. Sweetheart! Oh lud, sweetheart! the best names I have had these three months from her, have been slut, or, whore.- What gown and ruffles will your ladyship wear to-day? Nell. What does she mean? Ladyship! gown! and ruffles! Sure I am awake: Oh! I remember the cunning man now. Lucy. Did your ladyship speak? Nell. Ay, child; I'll wear the same I did yesterday. Lucy. Mercy upon me!-Child!—Here's a miracle! Enter LETTICE. Let. Is my lady awake? have you had her shoe or her slipper flung at your head yet? Lucy. Oh no, I'm overjoyed; she's in the kindest humour! go to the bed, and speak to her; now is your time. Let. Oh, mercy! am I, or she awake? or do we both dream? Here's a blessed change? Lucy. If it continues, we shall be a happy family. Let. Your ladyship's chocolate is ready. Nell. Mercy on me! what's that? Some garment I suppose? [Aside.]—Put it on then, sweetheart. Let. Put it on, madam! I have taken it off; 'tis ready to drink. Nell. I mean, put it by; I don't care for drinking now. Enter Cook. Cook. Now go I like a bear to the stake, to know her scurvy ladyship's commands about dinner. How many rascally names must I be called. Let. Oh, John Cook! you'll be out of your wits to find my lady in so sweet a temper. Cook. What a devil! are they all mad? Lucy. Madam, here's the cook come about dinner. Nell. Oh! there's a fine cook! He looks like one of your gentle folks. [Aside.]—Indeed, honest man, I'm very hungry now; pray get me a rasher upon the coals, a piece of one milk cheese, and some white bread. Cook. Hey! what's to do here? my head turns round. Honest man! I looked for rogue or rascal, at least. She's strangely changed in her diet, as well as her humour. Aside.]—I'm afraid, madam, cheese and bacon will sit very heavy an Lucy. Here's the butler, madam, to know your ladyship's orders. Nell. Oh! pray Mr. Butler ! let me have some small beer when my breakfast comes in. But. Mr. Butler! Mr. Butler! I shall be turned into stone with amazement! [Aside.]Would not your ladyship rather have a glass of Frontiniac, or Lacryme? Nell. O dear! what hard names are there! but I must not betray myself. [Aside.]—Well, which you please, Mr. Butler. Enter Coachmau. But. Go, get you in, and be rejoiced as I am. Coach. The cook has been making his game I know not how long. What, do you banter, too? Lucy. Madam, the coachman. Coach. I come to know if your ladyship goes out to-day, and which you'll have, the coach or chariot, Nell. Good lack-a-day! I'll ride in the coach, if you please. Coach. The sky will fall, that's certain. [Exit. Nell. I can hardly think I am awake yet. How well pleased they all seem to wait upon me! O notable cunning man! My head turns round! I am quite giddy with my own happiness. AIR. What though I am a country lass. In plain stuff-gown, and short-eared coif, The scene is changed, I'm altered quite, [Exit. Enter SIR JOHN, meeting his Servants. But. Oh, sir, here's the rarest news! Lucy. There never was the like, sir! you'll be overjoyed and amazed. Sir John. What, are ye mad? What's the matter with ye? How now! here's a new face in my family; what's the meaning of this? But. Oh, sir! the family's turned upside down. We are almost distracted; the happiest people! Lucy. Ay, my lady, sir, my lady. Sir John. What, is she dead? But. Dead! Heaven forbid! O! she's the best woman, the sweetest lady! Sir John. This is astonishing! I must go and inquire into this wonder. If this be true, I shall rejoice indeed. But. Tis true, sir, upon my honour. Long live Sir John and my lady; huzza! [Exeunt. Enter NELL. Nell. I well remember the cunning man warned me to bear all out with confidence, or worse he said, would follow. I am ashamed, and know not what to do with all this ceremony: I am amazed, and out of my senses. I looked in the glass, and saw a gay fine thing I knew not; meseen at home, in a piece of looking glass fastened thought my face was not at all like that I have have flattering glasses, that shew them far unlike upon the cupboard. But great ladies, they say, them e'en just as they are. themselves, whilst poor folks glasses represent AIR. When I was a dame of honour. Lucy. O madam! here's my master just returned from hunting. Sir John. By Heaven, I am charmed! dear creature, if thou continuest thus, I had rather enjoy thee than the Indies. But can this be real? May I believe my senses? Nell. All that's good above can witness for me, I am in earnest. [Kneels. Sir John. Rise, my dearest! Now am I happy indeed- -Where are my friends, my servants? call them all, and let them be witnesses of my happiness. [Erit. Nell. O rare, sweet man! he smells all over like a nosegay. Heaven preserve my wits! AIR.-'Twas within a furlong, &c. Nell. Dear sir, you make me proud: And you shall find All the good I can boast of First let me, dear sir, wipe them ; Was ever so sweet a wife! Thank you, dear sir! I vow and protest, [Kisses her. may it last for life! What joys thus to enfold thee! What pleasure to behold thee! Inclined again to kiss! Lady. Was ever lady yet so miserable? I can't Sir John. Again, and again, my dearest ! make one soul in the village acknowledge me; they sure are all of the conspiracy. This wicked husband of mine has laid a devilish plot against me. I must at present submit, that I may hereafter have an opportunity of executing my design. Here comes the rogue; I'll have him strangled; but now I must yield. Enter JOBSON. Job. Come on, Nell; art thou come to thyself yet? Lady. Yes, I thank you, I wonder what I ailed; this cunning man has put powder in my drink, most certainly. Job. Powder! the brewer put good store of powder of malt in it, that's all. Powder, quoth she! ha, ha, ha! Lady. I never was so all the days of my life. Job. Was so! no, nor I hope ne'er will be so again, to put me to the trouble of strapping you so devilishly. Lady. I'll have that right hand cut off for thai, rogue. [Aside.]-You was unmerciful to bruise me so. Job. Well, I'm going to Sir John Loverule's; all his tenants are invited; there's to be rare feasting and revelling, and open house kept for three months. Lady. Husband, shan't I go with you? Job. What the devil ails thee now? Did I not tell thee but yesterday, I would strap thee for desiring to go, and art thou at it again, with a pox? Lady. What does the villain mean by strapping, and yesterday? Job, Why, I have been married but six weeks, and you long to make me me a cuckold already. Stay at home, and be hanged! there's good cold pye in the cupboard; but I'll trust thee no more with strong beer, hussy. [Exit. Lady. Well, I'll not be long after you; sure I shall get some of my own family to know me, they can't be all in this wicked plot. [Exit. SCENE III.-SIR JOHN'S. Sir John. Nell. I How ravishing the bliss! little thought this morning, 'Twould ever come to this. Enter Lady. [Da Capo. Lady. Here's a fine rout and rioting! You, sirrah, butler, you rogue! But. Why, how now! Who are you? lady? But. Lady! here, turn this mad woman out of doors! Lady. You rascal ! take that, sirrah! [Flings a glass at him. Foot. Have a care, hussy! there's a good pump without; we shall cool your courage for you. Lady. You, Lucy, have you forgot me too, you minx? Lucy. Forgot you, woman! Why, I never remembered you; I never saw you before in my life. Lady. Oh, the wicked slut! I'll give you cause to remember me, I will, hussy. [Pulls her headcloths off. Lucy. Murder! Murder! Help! Sir John. How now! What uproar's this? Lady. You, Lettice, you slut! know me, neither? Let. Help, help! Won't you [Strikes her. Sir John. What's to do there? But. Why, sir, here's a madwoman calls her self my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all round. Sir John. [To Lady.]-Thou my wife! poor creature! I pity thee! I never saw thee before. Lady. Then it is in vain to expect redress from thee, thou wicked contriver of all my misery. Nell. How am I amazed! Can that be [, there in my clothes, that have made all this dis turbance? And yet I am here, to my thinking, in these fine clothes. How can this be? I am so confounded and affrighted, that I begin to wish I was with Zekel Jobson again. Lady. To whom shall I apply myself, or whether can I fly? Heaven! What do I see! Is not that I, yonder, in my gown and petticoat I wore |