THE DRUMMER.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A great Hall.

Enter the Butler, Coachman, and Gardener.

BUTLER.

THERE came another coach to town last night, that brought a gentleman to inquire about this strange noise we hear in the house. This spirit will bring a power of custom to the George— -If so be he continues his pranks, I design to sell a pot of ale, and set up the sign of the drum.

COACHMAN.

I'll give madam warning, that's flat-I've always liv'd in sober families. I'll not disparage myself to be a servant in a house that is haunted.

GARDENER.

I'll e'en marry Nell, and rent a bit of ground of my own if both of you leave Madam; not but Madam's a very good woman- -if Mrs. Abigail did not spoil her Come, here's her health.

It's a very

BUTLER.

hard thing to be a butler in a house that is disturb'd. He made such a racket in the cellar last night, that I'm afraid he'll sour all the beer in my barrels.

we can.

COACHMAN.

Why then, John, we ought to take it off as fast as Here's to youHe rattled so loud under the tiles last night, that I verily thought the house would have fallen over our heads. I durst not go up into the cock-loft this morning, if I had not got one of the maids to go along with me.

GARDENER.

I thought I heard him in one of my bed-postsI marvel, John, how he gets into the house when all the gates are shut.

BUTLER.

Why, look ye, Peter, your spirit will creep you into an auger-hole-he'll whisk you through a key-hole, without so much as justling against one of the wards.

COACHMAN.

Poor Madam is mainly frighted, that's certain; and verily believes it is my master that was kill'd in the last campaign.

BUTLER.

know

Out of all manner of question, Robin, 'tis Sir George Mrs. Abigail is of opinion it can be none but his honour: he always lov'd the wars and you was mightily pleas'd from a child with the music of a drum.

GARDENER.

I wonder his body was never found after the battle.

BUTLER.

Found! why, you fool, is not his body here about the house? Dost thou think he can beat his drum without hands and arms?

COACHMAN.

"Tis Master, as sure as I stand here alive; and I verily believe I saw him last night in the town-close.

GARDENER.

Ay! how did he appear?

COACHMAN.

Like a white horse.

BUTLER.

Pho, Robin, I tell you he has never appear'd yet but in the shape of the sound of a drum.

COACHMAN.

This makes one almost afraid of one's own shadow. As I was walking from the stable t'other night, without my lantern, I fell across a beam that lay in my way, and faith my heart was in my mouth-I thought I had stumbled over a spirit.

BUTLER.

Thou might'st as well have stumbled over a straw. Why a spirit is such a little thing, that I have heard a man, who was a great scholar, say, that he'll dance a Lancashire hornpipe upon the point of a needleAs I sat in the pantry last night counting my spoons, the candle methought burnt blue, and the spay'd bitch look'd as if she saw something.

COACHMAN.

Ay, poor cur! she's almost frighten'd out of her wits.

GARDENER.

Ay, I warrant ye, she hears him many a time and often when we don't.

BUTLER.

My lady must have him laid, that's certain, whatever it cost her.

GARDENER.

I fancy, when one goes to market, one might hear of somebody that can make a spell.

COACHMAN.

Why may not the parson of our parish lay him?

BUTLER.

No, no, no; our parson cannot lay him.

COACHMAN.

Why not he as well as another man?

BUTLER.

Why, ye fool, he is not qualified-He has not taken the oaths.

GARDENER.

Why, d'ye think, John, that the spirit would take

I'll tell you immediately [drinks]-I fancy Mrs. Abigail might scold him out of the house.

COACHMAN.

Ay, she has a tongue that would drown his drum, if any thing could.

BUTLER.

Pugh, this is all froth; you understand nothing of the matter The next time it makes a noise, I tell you what ought to be done, I would have the steward speak Latin to it.

COACHMAN.

Ay, that would do if the steward had but courage?

GARDENER.

There you have it—He's a fearful man. If I had as much learning as he, and I met the ghost, I'd tell him his own! but alack, what can one of us poor men do with a spirit, that can neither write nor read?

BUTLER.

Thou art always cracking and boasting, Peter; thou dost not know what mischief it might do thee, if such a silly dog as thee should offer to speak to it. For

aught I know, he might flay thee alive, and make parchment of thy skin to cover his drum with.

GARDENER.

A fiddle-stick! tell not me-I fear nothing; not I! I never did harm in my life; I never committed murder..

BUTLER.

I verily believe thee: keep thy temper, Peter; after supper we'll drink each of us a double mug, and then let come what will.

GARDENER.

Why, that's well said, John, an honest man that is not quite sober has nothing to fear-Here's to ye —Why, how if he should come this minute, here would I stand. Ha! what noise is that?

BUTLER AND COACHMAN.

Ha! where?

GARDENER.

The devil! the devil! Oh, no; 'tis Mrs. Abigail.

BUTLER.

Ay, faith! 'tis she; 'tis Mrs. Abigail! a good mistake! 'tis Mrs. Abigail.

Enter Abigail.

ABIGAIL.

Here are your drunken sots for you! Is this a time to be guzzling when gentry are come to the house! Why don't you lay your cloth? how come you out of the stables? why are not you at work in your garden?

GARDENER.

Why, yonder's the fine Londoner and Madam fetching a walk together; and methought they look'd as if they should say they had rather have my room than my company.