Dick. Very well, I thank you, father. King. A little more, and you had pushed me down. Mil. Faith, sir, you must excuse me; I was overjoyed to see iny boy. He has been at London, and I have not seen him these four years. King. Well, I shall once in my life have the happiness of being treated as a common man; and of seeing human nature without disguise. [Aside. Mil. What has brought thee home so unexpected? Dick. You will know that presently. Mil. Of that, by-and-by, then. We have got the king down in the forest a hunting, this season; and this honest gentleman, who came down with his majesty from London, has been with them to-day, it seems, and has lost his way.-Come, Madge, see what thou can'st get for supper. Kill a couple of the best fowls: [Erit MAR.] and go you, Kate, and 'draw a pitcher of ale [Exit KATE.]-We are famous, sir, at Mansfield, for good ale; and for honest fellows, that know how to drink it. King. Good ale will be acceptable at present, for I am very dry. But, pray, how came your son to leave you, and go to London? Mil. Why, that's a story which Dick, perhaps, won't like to have told. King. Then I don't desire to hear it. Enter KATE, with an earthen pitcher of ale, and a horn. Mil. So; now, do you go help your mother. I-Sir, my hearty service to you. fa King. Thank ye, sir. This plain sincerity and freedom, is a happiness unknown to kings. [Aside. Mil. Well, Dick, and how dost thou like London? Come, tell us what thou hast seen. Dick. Seen! I have seen the land of pro mise. Mil. The land of promise! What dost thou mean? Dick. The court, father. Mil. Thou wilt never leave joking. Dick. To be serious, then, I have seen the disappointment of my hopes and expectations; and that's more than one would wish to see. Mil. What! Would the great man, thou wast recommended to, do nothing at all for thee at last? Dick. Why, yes; he would promise me to the last. Mil. Zoons! Do the courtiers think their dependents can eat promises? Dick. No, no; they never trouble their heads to think whether we cat at all or not. I have now dangled after his lordship several years, tantalized with hopes and expectations; this year promised one place, the next another, and | Mil. No, no, Dick; instead of depending the third, in sure and certain hope of aupon lords' promises, depend upon the labour disappointment. One falls, and it was promised of thine own hands; expect nothing but what before; another, and I am just half an hour thou can'st earn, and then thou wilt not be distoo late; a third, and it stops the mouth of a appointed. But come, I want a description of creditor; a fourth, and it pays the hire of a London; thou hast told us nothing thou hast flatterer; a fifth, and it bribes a vote: and, the seen yet. sixth, I am promised still. But having thus slept away some years, I awoke from my dream my lord, I found, was so far from having it in his power to get a place for me, that he had been all this while seeking after one for himself. Mil, Poor Dick! And is plain honesty, then, a recommendation to no place at court? : Dick. It may recommend you to be a footman, perhaps, but nothing further; nothing further, indeed. If you look higher, you must furnish yourself with other qualifications: you must learn to say ay, or no; to run, or stand; to fetch, or carry, or leap over a stick, at the word of command. You must be master of the arts of flattery, insinuation, dissimulation, application, and [Pointing to his palm.] -right application, too, if you hope to succeed. King. You don't consider I am a courtier, methinks. Dick. O! 'Tis a fine place! I have seen large houses with small hospitality; great men do little actions; and fine ladies do nothing at all. I have seen the honest lawyers of Westminster-hall, and the virtuous inhabitants of Change-Alley; the politic madmen of coffee-houses, and the wise statesmen of Bedlam. I have seen merry tragedies, and sad comedies; devotion at an opera, and mirth at a sermon; I have seen fine clothes at St. James's, and long bills at Ludgate-hill. I have seen poor grandeur, and rich poverty; high honours, and low flattery; great pride, and no merit. In short, I have seen a fool with a title, a knave'with a pension, and an honest man with a thread-bare coat. Pray, how do you like London? Mil. And is this the best description thou can'st give of it? Dick. Yes. King. Why, Richard, you are a satirist, I Dick. Not I, indeed; 'tis no concern of mine | find. what you are. If, in general, my character of the court is true, 'tis not my fault if it's disa-pens to be satire, I can't help it. greeable to your worship. There are particular exceptions, I own, and I hope you may Dick. I love to speak truth, sir; if that hap be one. King. Nay, I don't want to be flattered; so let that pass. Here's better success to you the next time you come to London! Dick. I thank ye; but I don't design to see it again in haste. SCENE 1.-The Wood. Enter several Keepers. Mil. Well! If this is London, give me my country cottage; which, though it is not a great house, nor a fine house, is my own house; and I can shew a receipt for the building on't. But come, sir, our supper, I believe, is ready for us by this time; and to such as I have, you're welcome as a prince. King. I thank you. [Exeunt. ACT II. 1st Keep. The report of a gun was somewhere this way, I'm sure. 2d Keep. Yes; but I can never believe that any body would come a deer stealing so dark a night as this. Sd Keep. Where did the deer harbour today? 4th Keep. There was a herd lay upon Hamilton-hill; another, just by Robin Hood's chair; and a third here, in Mansfield wood. 1st Keep. Ay; those they have been amongst ! 2d Keep. But we shall never be able to find them to-night, 'tis so dark. 3d Keep. No, no; let's go back again. 1st Keep. Zoons! You're afraid of a broken head, I suppose, if we should find them; and so had rather slink back again. Hark! stand close; I hear them coming this way. Enter the Courtiers. 1st Cour. Did not you hear somebody just now? Faith, I begin to be afraid we shall meet with some misfortune to-night. 2d Cour. Why, if any body should take what we have got, we have made a fine business of it. 3d Cour. Let them take it, if they will: I am so tired, I shall make but small resistance. [The Keepers rush upon them. 2d Keep. Ay; rogues, rascals, and villains! You have got it, have you? 24 Cour. Indoed we've got but very little; What do you 1st Keep. For being robbed! mean? Who has robbed you? 4th Cour. Why, did not you just now demand our money, gentlemen? 2d Keep. O, the rascals! They will swear a robbery against us, I warrant! 4th Cour. A robbery! Ay; to be sure. 1st Keep. No, no; we did not demaad your money; we demanded the deer you have killed. 4th Cour. The devil take the deer, I say! he led us a chase of six hours, and got away from us at last. 1st Keep. Zoons! Ye dogs, do you think to banter us? I tell ye, you have this night shot one of the king's deer; did not we hear the gun go off? Did not we hear you say, you was afraid it should be taken from you? 2d Cour. We were afraid our money should be taken from us. 1st Keep. Come, come, no more shuffling: I tell ye, you're all rogues, and we'll have you hanged, you may depend on't. Come, let's take them to old Cockle's; we're not far off; we'll keep them there all night, and to-morrow morning we'll away with them before the justice. 4th Cour. A very pretty adventure! SCENE II.-The Mill. [Exeunt. King, Miller, Margery, and DICK, at supper. Mil. Come, sir, you must mend a bad supper with a glass of good ale; here's King Harry's health! King. With all my heart. Come, Richard, here's King Harry's health; I hope you are courtier enough to pledge me, are not you? Dick. Yes, yes, sir; I'll drink the king's health with all my heart. Mar. Come, sir, my humble service to you, and much good may do ye with your poor supper: I wish it had been better. King. You need make no apologies, Mar. We are obliged to your goodness in excusing our rudeness. Mil. Prithee, Margery, don't trouble the gentleman with compliments. Mar. Lord, husband, if one had no more manners than you, the gentleman would take us all for hogs. Mil. Now, I think, the more compliments the less manners. King. I think so, too. Compliments in discourse, I believe, are like ceremonies in religion; the one has destroyed all true piety, and the other all sincerity and plain-dealing. Mil. Then a fig for all ceremony, and compliments, too: give us thy hand; and let us drink and be merry. King. Right, honest miller; let us drink and be merry. Come, have you got e're a good song? Mil. Ah! my singing days are over; but my man Joe has got an excellent one; and if you have a mind to hear it, I'll call him in. King. With all my heart. Mil. Joe! Mil. What wind blew you hither, pray? You have a good share of impudence, or you would be ashamed to set your foot within my house, methinks. Peg. Ashamed I am, indeed; but do not call me impudent. [Weeps. Dick. Dear father, suspend your anger for the present; that she is here now, is by my direction, and to do me justice. Peg. To do that, is all that is now in my power; for, as to myself, I am ruined past redemption; my character, my virtue, my peace, are gone: I am abandoned by my friends, despised by the world, and exposed to misery and want. King. Pray, let me know the story of your misfortunes: perhaps it may be in my power to do something towards redressing them. Peg. That you may learn from him, whom I have wronged; but as for me, shame will not let me speak, or hear it told. [Exit PEGGY. King. She's very pretty. Dick. O, sir, I once thought her an angel; I loved her dearer than my life, and did believe her passion was the same for me: but a young nobleman of this neighbourhood happening to see her, her youth and blooming beauty presently struck his fancy; a thousand artifices were immediately employed to debauch and ruin her. But all his arts were vain; not even the promise of making her his wife, could prevail upon her. In a little time he found out her love to me, and, imagining this to be the cause of her refusal, he, by forged letters, and feigned stories, contrived to make her believe I was upon the point of marriage with another woman. Possessed with this opinion, she, in a rage, writes me word, never to see her more; and, in revenge, consented to her own undoing. Not contented with this, nor easy while I was so near her, he bribed one of his cast-off mistresses to swear a child to me, which she did; this was the occasion of my leaving my friends, and flying to London. King. And how does she propose to do you justice Dick. Why, the king being now in this forest a hunting, we design to take some opportunity of throwing ourselves at his majesty's feet, and complaining of the injustice done us by this noble villain. Mil. Ah, Dick! I expect but little redress from such an application. Things of this nature are so common among the great, that I am afraid it will only be made a jest of. King. Those, that can make a jest of what ought to be shocking to humanity, surely deserve not the name of great or noble men. Dick. What do you think of it, sir? If you belong to the court, you, perhaps, may know something of the king's temper. all, I think he would not suffer the greatest noKing. Why, if I can judge of his temper at bleman in his court, to do an injustice to the meanest subject in his kingdom. But, pray, who is the nobleman that is capable of such actions as these? Dick. Do you know my Lord Lurewell? Dick. That's the man. King, Well, I would have you put your design in execution. Tis my opinion the king would not only hear your complaint, but redress your injuries. Mil. I wish it may prove so. Enter the Keepers, leading in the Courtiers. 1st Keep. Hola! Cockle! Where are ye?Why, man, we have nabbed a pack of rogues here, just in the fact. King. Ha, ha, ha! What, turned highwaymen, my lords, or deer-stealers? 1st Cour. I am very glad to find your majesty in health and safety. 2d Cour. We have run through a great many perils and dangers to-night; but the joy of finding your majesty so unexpectedly, will make us forget all we have suffered. Mil. Dick. S What! is this the king! King. I am very glad to see you, my lords, I confess; and particularly you, my Lord Lurewell. Lure. Your majesty does me honour. King. Yes, my lord, and I will do you justice, too, your honour has been highly wronged by this young man. Lure. Wronged, my liege! King. I hope so, my lord; for I would fain believe you can't be guilty of baseness and treachery. so. Lure. I hope your majesty will never find me What dares this villain say? Dick. I am not to be frighted, my lord. I dare speak truth at any time. Lure. Whatever stains my honour, must be false. King. I know it must, my lord; yet has this man, not knowing who I was, presumed to charge your lordship, not only with great in justice to himself, but also with ruining an inno- | cent virgin, whom he loved, and who was to have been his wife; which, if true, were base and treacherous; but I know 'tis false, and, therefore leave it to your lordship to say, what punishment I shall inflict upon him, for the injury done to your honour. Lure. I thank your majesty. I will not be severe; he shall only ask my pardon, and tomorrow morning be obliged to marry the creature he has traduced me with. King. This is mild. Well, you hear your sen tence. Dick. May I not have leave to speak before your majesty? he's as great as you. Is it your riches or estate The villain that should plunder you of all, would then be as great as you. No, my lord; he, that acts greatly, is the true great man. I therefore think, you ought, in justice, to marry her you thus have wronged. Peg. Let my tears thank your majesty. But, alas! I am afraid to marry this young lord: that would only give him power to use me worse, and still encrease my misery; I, therefore, beg your majesty will not command him to do it. King. Rise, then, and hear me. My lord, you see how low, the greatest nobleman may be reduced by ungenerous actions. Here is, under King. What can'st thou say ? your own hand an absolute promise of marDick. If I had your majesty's permission, Iriage to this young woman, which, from a believe I have certain witnesses which will undeniably prove the truth of all I have accused his lordship of. King. Produce them. Dick. Peggy! King. Have you no particular acquaintance with her? Lure. Hum! I have not seen her these several months. Dick. True, my lord; and that is part of your accusation; for, I believe, I have some letters which will prove your lordship once had a more particular acquaintance with her. Here is one of the first his lordship wrote to her, full of the tenderest and most solemn protestations of love and constancy; here is another, which will inform your majesty of the pains he took to ruin her. There is an absolute promise of marriage before he could accomplish it. King. What say you, my lord? are these your hands? Lure. I believe, please your majesty, I might have a little affair of gallantry with the girl some time ago. King. It was a little affair, my lord; a mean affair; and what you call gallantry, I call infamy. Do you think, my lord, that greatness gives a sanction to wickedness? Or that it is the prerogative of lords to be unjust and inhuman? You remember the sentence which yourself pronounced upon this innocent man; you cannot think it hard that it should pass on you who are guilty. Lure. I hope your majesty will consider my rank, and not oblige me to marry her. thorough knowledge of your unworthiness, she has prudently declined to make you fulfil. I shall, therefore, not insist upon it: but I command you, upon pain of my displeasure, immediately to settle on her three hundred pounds love? Dick. Talk no more of it. Here, let us kneel, and thank the goodness which has made us blest. King. May you be happy! Mil. [Kneels.] After I have seen so much of your majesty's goodness, I cannot despair of pardon, even for the rough usage your majesty received from me. [The King draws his sword, the Miller is frighted, and rises up, thinking he was going to kill him. What have I done, that I should lose my life? King. Kneel without fear. No. my good host, so far are you from having any thing to pardon, that I am much your debtor. I cannot think but so good and honest a man will make a worthy and honourable knight; so, rise up, Sir John Cockle: And to support your state, and in some sort requite the pleasure you have done us, a thousand marks a year shall be your revenue. Mil. Your majesty's bounty I receive with King. Your rank, my lord! Greatness, that thankfulness; I have been guilty of no meanness stoops to actions base and low, deserts its rank, to obtain it, and hope I shall not be obliged to and pulls its honours down. What makes your keep it upon base conditions; for though I am lordship great? Is it your gilded equipage and willing to be a faithful subject, I am resolved to dress? Then put it on your meanest slave, and I be a free, and an honest man. |