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you !


did not wipe off the blood of the last man I fought Cle. Banish that fear; my flame can never with.

waste, Cle. Come, sir, this trifling sha'nt serve your For love sincere refines upon the taste. turn-Ilere, give me yours, and take mine.

[Ereunt. Cla. With all iny heart, sir. Now have at

SCENE III. [CLER. druus, and finds only a hilt in his Enter Sır Solomon, with old Me Wilful; hand.]

LADY SADLIFE, and Sylvia weeping. Cle. Death! you villain, do you serve me so ! Sir Sol. Troth, my old friend, this is a bad bu

Cla. In love and war, sir, all advantages are siness, indeed; you have bound yourself in a fair: so we conquer, no matter whether by force thousand pounds bond, you say, to marry your or stratagem.--Come, quick, sir—your life or daughter to a fine gentleman, and she, in the mistress.

mean time, it seems, is fallen in love with a Cle. Neither. Death! you shall have both, or stranger. none! Here drive your sword; for only through Wil. Look you, sir Solomon, it does not trouthis heart you reach Clarinda,

ble me o' this; for, I'll make her do as I please, Cla. Death, sir! can you be mad enough to or I'll starve her. die for a woman that bates vou?

Lady Sad. But, sir, your daughter tells me Cle. If that were true, 'twere greater madness, that the gentleman she loves is in every degree then, to live.

in as good circumstances as the person you deCla. Why, to my knowledge, sir, she has used sign her for; and, if he does not prove himself you basely, falsely, ill, and for no reason. so before to-morrow morning, she will cheerfully

Cle. No matter ; no usage can be worse than submit to whatever you'll impose on her. the contempt of poorly, tamely parting with her. W'il. All sham! all sham! only to gain time. She may abuse her heart by happy intidelities; I expect my friend and his son here immediately but, 'tis the pride of mine to be even miserably to demand performance of articles; and if her

ladyship's nice stomach does not immediately Cla. Generous passion! You almost tempt me comply with them, as I told you before, I'll starve to resign her to you.

her. Cle. You cannot, if you would. I would in- Lady Sad. But, consider, sir, what a perpedeed have won her fairly from you with my tual discord must a forced marriage probably sword; but scorn to take her as your gift. Be produce. quick, and end your insolence.

Wil. Discord! pshaw, waw! One man makes Cla. Yes, thus-Most generous Clerimont, as good a husband as another. A month's maryou now, indeed, have fairly vanquished me! riage will set all to rights, I warrant you. You (Runs to him.] My woman's follies, and my shame, know the old saying, sir Solomon--lying together be buried ever here.

makes pigs love, Cle. Ha, Clarinda! Is it possible? My won- Lady Sud. [To Sy..] What shall we do for der rises with my joy !-How came you in this you? There's no altering him. Did your lover habit?

promise to come to your assistance ? Cla. Now you indeed recall my blushes; but Syl. I expect him every minute ; but can't I had no other veil to hide them, while I con- foresee, from him, the least hope of my redempfessed the injuries I had done your hea in tion, -This is he. fooling with a man I never meant, on any terms,

Enter Atall, undisguised. to engage with. Beside, I knew, from our late parting, your fear of losing me would reduce you Atall. My Sylvia, dry those tender eyes; for to comply with sir Solomon's demands, for his while there's life, there's hope. interest in your favour. Therefore, as you saw,

Lady Sud. Ha! is't he? but I must smother I was resolved to ruin his market, by seeming to my confusion.

[ Aside. raise it; for he secretly took the offer I made Wil. How now, sir! pray, who gave you comhim.

mission to be so familiar with my daughter? Cle. 'Twas generously and timely offered; for Atall. Your pardon, sir; but when you know it really prevented my signing articles to him. me right, you'll neither think my freedom or my But, if you would heartily convince me that I pretensions familiar or dishonourable. sball never more have need of his interest, even Wil. Why, sir, what pretensions have you to let us steal to the next priest, and honestly put her? it out of his power ever to part us.

Atall. Sir, I saved her life at the hazard of my Cla. Why, truly, considering the trusts I have own: that gave me a pretence to know her; made yon,

'twould be ridiculous now, I think, to knowing her made ine love, and gratitude made deny you any thing: and if you should grow her receive it. weary of me after such usage, I can't blame you. Wil. Ay, sir! And some very good reasons, Vol. II.

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best known to myself, make me refuse it. Now, I'll find a speedy cure for your passion-Brother what will you do?

Wilful-Hey, fiddles there ! Atall

. I can't tell yet, sir; but if you'll do me Atall. Sir, you may treat me with what sevethe favour to let me know those reasons- rity you please ; but my engagements to that

Wil. Sir, I don't think myself obliged 'to do lady are too powerful and fixed to let the utmost either ;-but I'll tell you what I'll do for you: misery dissolve them. since you say you love my daughter, and she Sir Har. What does the fool mean? loves you, I'li

put you in the nearest way to get Atall. That I can sooner die than part wi her.

her. Atall. Don't flatter me, I beg you, sir. Wil. Hey!Why, is this your son, sir

Wil. Not I, upon my soul, sir! for, look you, Harry? 'tis only this -get my consent, and you shall Sir Har. Hey-day !--Why, did not you know have her.

that before? Atall. I beg your pardon, sir, for endeavour- Atall

. Oh, carth, and all ye stars! is this the ing to talk reason to you. But, to return your lady you designed me, sir? raillery, give me leave to tell

any man

Syl. Oh, fortune! is it possible? marries her but myself, he must extremely ask Sir Har. And is this the lady, sir, you have my consent.

been making such a bustle about? Wil. Before George, thou art a very pretty Atall. Not life, health, or happiness are half impudent fellow! and I'm sorry I can't punish so dear to me. her disobedience, by throwing her away upon Sir Sol. (Joining ATALL and Sylvia's hands.) thee.

Loll, loll, leroll! Atall

. You'll have a great deal of plague about Atall. Oh, tranporting joy! this business, sir; for I shall be mighty difficult

Embracing Sylvia. to give up my pretensions to her.

Sir Har. and Wil. Loll! loll! [Joining in Wil. Ha !''tis a thousand pities I can't com- the tune, and dancing about them.) ply with thee. Thou wilt certainly be a thriving Sir Sol. Hey! within there! (Calls the fiddles.] fellow ; for thou dost really set the best face upon By jingo, we'll make a night on't! a bad cause, that ever I saw since I was born. Atall. Come, sir, once more, raillery apart;

Enter CLARINDA and CLERIMONT. suppose I prove myself of equal birth and fortune Cla. Save you, save you, good people I'm to deserve her?

glad, uncle, to hear you call so cheerfully for the Wil. Sir, if you were eldest son to the Cham fiddles; it looks as if you had a husband ready of Tartary, and had the dominions of the Great for me. Mogul entailed upon you and your heirs for ever, Sir Sol. Why, that I may have by to-morrow it would signify no more than the bite of my night, madam; but, in the mean time, if you thumb. The girl's disposed of; I have matched please, you may wish your friends joy. her already, upon a thousand pounds forfeit; Cla. Dear Sylvia! and, faith, she shall fairly run for’t, though she's Syl, Clarinda! yerked and flead from the crest to the crupper. Åtall. Oh, Clerimont, such a deliverance ! Atall. Confusion !

Cle. Give you joy, joy, sir! Syl. What will become of me?

Cla. I congratulate your happiness, and am Wil. And if you don't think me in earnest now, pleased our little jealousies are over; Mr Clehere comes one that will convince you of my sin- rimont has told me all, and cured me of curiosicerity.

ty for ever. Atall

. My father! Nay, then my ruin is ine- Syl. What, married? vitable.

Cla. You'll see presently. But, sir Solomon,

what do you mean by to morrow? Why, do you Enter Sir HARRY ATALL.

fancy I have any more patience than the rest of Sir Har. [To Atall.] Oh, sweet sir! have I my neighbours? found you at last? Your very humble servant. Sir Sol. Why, truly, madam, I don't suppose you What's the reason, pray, that you have had the bave; but I believe tomorrow will be as soon Assurance to be almost a fortnight in town, and as their business can be done; by which time never come near me, especially when I sent you i expect a jolly fox-hunter from Yorkshire : word I had business of such consequence with and if you are resolved not to have patience till you?

next day, why, the same parson may tuss you up Atall. I understood your business was to marry all four in a dish together. me, sir, to a woman I never saw: and, to confess Cla. A filthy fox-hunter! the truth, I durst not come near you, because I Sir Sol, Odzooks, a mettled fellow, that will was at the same time

love with one you never ride you from day-break to sun-set ! None of saw.

your flimsy London rascals, that must bave a Sir Har. Was you so, sir? Why, then, sir, chair to carry them to their coach, and a coach

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to carry them to a trapes, and a constable to Care. What say you, madam, (to divert the carry both to the round-house.

good company) shall we send for him by way of Cla. Ay, but this fox-hunter, sir Solomon, inortification will come home dirty and tired as one of his Lady Dain. By all means; for your sake, mehounris; he'll be always asleep before he's a-bed, thinks, I ought to give him full despair. and on horseback before he's awake; he must Care. Why, then, to let you see, that 'tis a rise early to follow his sport, and I sit up late at much easier thing to cure a fine lady of her cards for want of better diversion. Put this to- sickly taste, than a lover of his impudencegether, my wise uncle.

there's Careless for you, without the least tincSir Sol. Are you so high fed, madam, that a ture of despair about him. [Discovers himself. country gentleman of fifteen hundred pounds a- All. Ha, Careless ! year won't go down with you?

Lady Dain. Abused! undone ! Cla. Not so, sir; but you really kept me so All. Ha, ha! sharp, that I was e'en forced to provide for Cle. Nay, now, madam, we wish you a sumyself ; and here stands the fox-hunter for perior joy; for you have married a man instead my money. [Claps Cle. on the shoulder. of a monster. Sir Sol. How!

Care. Come, come, madam; since you find Cle. Even so, sir Solomon-Hark in your ear, you were in the power of such a cheat, you sir-You really held your consent at so high a inay be glad it was no greater : you might have price, that, to give you a proof of my good huz- fallen into a rascal's hands; but you know I am bandry, I was resolved to save charges, and e'en a gentleman, my fortune no snäll one, and, if marry her without it.

your teinper will give me leave, will deserve Sir Sol. Hell and-

you. Cla. And hark


in t'other ear, sir-Because Lady Sad. Come, e'en make the best of your I would not have you expose your reverend age fortune ; for, take my word, if the cheat had not by a mistake, know, sir, I was the young spark, been a very agreeable one, I would never have with a smooth face and a feather, that offered had a hand in't. You must pardon me, if I can't you a thousand guineas for your consent, which help laughing. you would have been glad to have taken.

Lady Dain. Well, since it must be so, I parSir Sol. The devil! If ever I traffic in wo- don all; only one thing let me beg of you, men's flesh again, may all the bank stocks sir; that is, your promise to wear this habit fall when I have bought them, and rise when I one month for my satisfaction. have sold them !- -Hey-day ! what have we Care. Oh, madam, that's a trife! I'll lie in here ? more cheats.

the sun a whole summer for an olive complexiCle. Not unlikely, sir; for I fancy they are on, to oblige you. married.

Lady Dain. Well, Mr Careless, I begin now to

think better of my fortune, and look back Enter Lady Dainty and Careless, disguised. with apprehension of the escape I have had;

Lady Sad. That they are, I can assure you, you have already cured my folly, and, were but I give your highness joy, madam.

my health recoverable, I should think myself Lady Dain. Lard, that people of any rank completely happy. shoule use such vulgar salutations ! though, me- Care. For that, madam, we'll venture to save thinks, highness has something of grandeur in you doctor's fees; the sound. But I was in hopes, good people, And trust to nature : time will soon discover, that confident fellow, Careless, had been among Your best physician is a favoured lover. you.

[Ereunt omnes.

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SCENE I.-- The Market PlaceDrum beats | any man; for you must know, gentlemen, that I the Grenadier's March.

ain a man of honour besides, I don't beat up

for common soldiers; no, I list only grenadiers; Enter SERJEANT KITE, followed by Thomas grenadiers, gentlemen— Pray, gentlemen, ob APPLETREE, Costar PEARMAIN, and the Mob. this cap-this is the cap of honour; it dubs

a man a gentleman in the drawing of a trigger; Kite, making a speech.

and he, that has the good fortune to be born six If any gentlemen, soldiers, or others, have a foot high, was born to be a great man—Sir, will mind to serve his majesty, and pull down the you give me leave to try this cap upon your French king; if any 'prentices have severe mas- head. ters, any children have undutiful parents, if any Cos. Is there no harm in't? won't the cap list servants have too little wages, or any husband me? too much wife, let them repair to the noble Ser- Kite. No, no; no more than I can—Come, let jeant Kite, at the sign of The Raven, in this me see how it becomes you. good town of Shrewsbury, and they shall receive Cos. Are you sure there be no conjuration i present relief and entertainment—Gentlemen, 1 it? no gunpowder-plot upon me? don't beat my drums here to insnare or inveigle Kite. No, no, friend; don't fear, mar

nute !

Cos. My mind misgives me plaguily-Let me left London—an hundred and twenty miles in see it-[Going to put it on.] It smells woundily thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to of sweat and brimstone. Smell, Tummas. the fatigue of recruiting. Tho. Ay, wauns does it.

Enter Kite. Cos. Pray, serjeant, what writing is this upor the face of it?

Kite. Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain! Kite. The crown, or the bed of honour. from the banks of the Danube to the Severn side,

Cos. Pray now, what may be that same bed of noble captain, you're welcome! honour?

Plume. A very elegant reception, indeed, Mr Kite. Oh! a mighty large bed! bigger by half Kite. I find you are fairly entered into your than the great bed at Ware-ten thousand peo- recruiting strain-Pray, what success? ple may lie in it together, and never feel one Kite. I've been here a week, and I've recruitanother.

ed five. Cos. My wife and I would do well to lie in't, Plume. Five! pray what are they? for we don't care for fecling one another-But Kite. I have listed the strong man of Kent, do folk sleep sound in this same bed of honour? the king of the gipsies, a Scotch pedlar, a scoun

Kite. Sound! ay, so sound that they never drel attorney, and a Welch parson. wake.

Plume. An attorney! wert thou mrad? list a Cos. Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay lawyer! discharge him, discharge him, this mithere, Kite. Say you so ! then I find, brother

kite. Why, sir? Cos. Brother! hold there, friend; I am no Plume. Because I will have nobody in my kindred to you that I know of yet-Look ye, ser company that can write; a fellow that can write jeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d’ye see if I can draw petitions—I say, this minute discharge have a mind to list, why so—if not, why 'tis not him! so—therefore, take your cap and your brother- Kite. And what shall I do with the parson? ship back again, for I am not disposed at this Plume. Can he write? present writing-No coaxing, no brothering me, Kite. Hum! he plays rarely upon the fiddle. faith!

Plume. Keep him, by all means—But how Kite. I coax! I wheedle ! I'm above it, sir : stands the country affected? were the people

have served twenty campaigns--but, sir, you pleased with the news of my coming to town?" talk well, and I must own that you are a man,

Kite. Sir, the mob are so pleased with your every inch of you; a pretty, young, sprightly fel- honour, and the justices and better sort of peon low !- I love a fellow with a spirit; but I scorn ple are so delighted with me, that we shall soon to coax; 'tis base; though, I must say, that never do your business-But, sir, you have got a rein my life have I seen a man better built. How cruit here, that you little think of. firm and strong he treads ! he steps like a castle! Plume. Who? but I scorn to wheedle any man–Come, honest Kite. One that you beat up for the last time lad! will you take share of a pot?

you were in the country. You remember your Cos. Nay, for that matter, I'll spend my penny old friend Molly at The Castle ? with the best he that wears a head; that is, beg- Plume. She's not with child, I hope? ging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way.

Kite. She was brought to-bed yesterday. Kite. Give me your hand, then; and now, Plume. Kite, you must father the child. gentlemen, I have no more to say but this Kite. And so her friends will oblige me to here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of hum- marry the mother? miny ale at my quarters 'tis the king's money,

Plume. If they should, we'll take her with us ; and the king's drink-he's a generous king, and she cau wash, you know, and make a bed upon loves his subjects—I hope, gentlemen, you won't occasion. refuse the king's health?

Kite. Aye, or unmake it upon occasion. But All Mob. No, no, no.

your honour knows that I am married already. Kite. Huzza, then! huzza for the king, and the Plume. To how many? honour of Shropshire !

Kite. I can't tell readily“I have set them Al Mob. Huzza!

down here upon the back of the muster-roll.--Kite. Beat drum.

[Draws it out.] Let me see- Imprimis, Mrs [Ereunt shouting, drum beating a grena- Shely Snikereyes; she sells potatoes upon Ordier's march.

mond Key in Dublin--Peggy Guzzle, the brandy

woman at the Horse-Guards at WhitehallEnter Plume in a riding habit.

Dolly Waggon, the carrier's daughter at HullPlume. By the grenadier's march, that should Mademoiselle Van Bottomflat at the Buss--then be my drum, and by that shout it should beat Jenny Oakum, the ship-carpenter's widow at with success—Let me see-four o'clock—[Look- Portsmouth; but I don't reckon upon her, for ing on his watch.] At ten yesterday morning I she was married at the same time to two lieur

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