Lady E. Your ladyship's orders with grief I obey; Yet ere I depart a few words may I say? Adela. I'll try to keep my passion under, And treat the flirt with silent scorn. Of rank and education, Tho' at scolding so alert, I fancy now she's really hurt. [Exeunt. SCENE IV-A Chamber in the Tower.. Enter LORD WILLIAM. Lord Wil. Now to the object of my search. (Opens the doors and discovers his father's armour.) Kind fortune, I thank thee! sacred to the defence of a just cause, the shield of the father shall protect his son, fighting for the rights of an illustrious family. AIR.-LORD WILLIAM. With success my soul inspire. The inspiration now I feel, The ardent glow of patriot zeal, Brighter prospects now arise, The voice of conquest rend the skies. Enter ROBERT and LEWIS. [Exit. Rob. Well, Lewis; since we have met with you at last, I'll give you a specimen of English hospitality: we have plenty of liquor in the cellar underneath, and, egad, we'll make a night of it. Lew. That's right, Master Robert, and I love good eating and drinking, so I'll drink with you if tis only to shew you I like your company. Mar. But you have not told me yet about this haunted tower. Lew. Well, I declare I'm glad of it for your sake, for I am sure you must be dry after telling such a long story. Rob. Come, my boys, lend me a hand. (They bring in a table with wine and ale.) Lew. What have we got here? Rob. Some of the best wine in Christendom, my lad; ay, and some of the best ale too, which to me, is the best of all liquors; the scurvy old knave, my master, who I dare say is a-bed and asleep, little thinks the honour we are doing to his cellar. Lew. and Mar. Ha, ha, ha ! Rob. Now for it, my boys; here's to ye. CATCH.-ROBERT, &c. &c. As now we're met, a jolly set, Our ale we'll drink, And we'll be wond'rous merry. merry. Rob. Hey day! what's that? Lew. That? oh! that's an echo, I suppose. Rob. An echo! I never observed one here, IMar. O Master Robert, isn't this the chamber you said was haunted? Lew. Egad then, it is haunted by a jolly spirit; so here's to the ghost! (sings) "And we'll be wond'rous merry." Lord W. (Behind.) "And we'll be wond'rous merry." (A noise underneath.) Rob. What think you now? Lew. Why I think there's a damned noise in the cellar. (The trap door that Robert had pointed to is thrown open and knocks down the table, which they through it.) had placed on it, and the Baron appears coming don't let me disturb you; pray go on; my butler Bar. Gentlemen, your most obedient; pray here, sets you a good example; so pray make free with my property: upon my life, this is a very pretty chamber to be haunted; the ghost has an excellent choice, but I never knew that your troubled spirits were such consumers of ale and wine before. (A knocking at the door.) Pray who is that? Is it any friend of your's, gentlemen? Mar. Yes, please your worshipful honour, it is only Hubert with the supper. Bar. O! Hubert with the supper, is it? desire him to walk in. (The Baron opens the door. Enter Hubert with some beef and bread.) Come in, Hubert, here are none but friends. O never mind me, come, put the supper on the table. (Hubert puts it on the table, and exit.) And now, gentlemen, sit down and eat heartily. Lew. I am much obliged to your honour, but I am not hungry now. Rob. If but your honour would but hear me. Baron. O! with a great deal of pleasure, honest Robert. I was but ill situated in the cellar to hear that catch you sung just now. Rogues! rascan't bear your own consciences, so you are afraid cals! robbers! whose only sign of fear is, you of spirits; where's the echo you conjur'd up just now? Rob. Indeed, my lord, we heard an echo. Bar. Did you? well, sing again then, and let me hear it. I'll shew you a pattern of resolution, you rapscallions. lord. (Sings.) "And we'll Rob. Now mark, my be wond'rous merry. be wond'rous merry." Lord W. (Behind in Robert's voice.) "And we'll an echo. Bar. (Alarmed.) Egad, but it's an odd sort of Lew. Suppose your honour was to speak to it, perhaps it would answer you civilly. Bar. O! I dare say it will have a proper res pect for my dignity; what are you, ghost or spirit? Lord W. (In the Baron's voice.) "Ghost or spirit." Bar. (Very much frightened.) O lord! O lord! why, why, don't some of you speak to me? what -what-are you afraid of? Robert, what makes you look so pale? For my part-I-I-I don't believe in apparitions: do you, friend? (To Lew.) Hugo. (Behind.) Lord William, my dear master, Lord William! Rob. Hark, my lord; there's a voice. Bar. Oh! I am a lost man; but-why do you all tremble so? (A bell tolls.) Oh lord! there's the curfew going at this hour. (Lord William throws open the doors, and walks with great solemnity in his father's armour, and exit.) Bar. O, dear me, it is the old Baron's ghost! I have seen him wear that shield and helmet a thousand times. Lew. (Looking after Lord W.) O, my lord; here's more miracles! the spirit has met some armed men, and they are all fighting that's right, that's right; well done, my boys; d- they have kill'd the ghost, huzza. All. Huzza! huzza! : Bar. Egad, that's rare news; come, let's go and see what it's all about. I'll lead the way, do you follow me-hey-no, Robert, you shall go first; no, no, stop, come back; we'll all go together, and then we can take care of one another. [Exeunt, alarmed. SCENE V.-An Apartment in the Castle. Enter EDWARD and ADELA. Adela. O Edward! I am frightened to death! it was an unlucky day for us when I turned fine lady, and nothing but unlucky days have we had ever since. Edw. Lucky or unlucky, I fancy there's an end of them now. Bad as the days were, I wish they were to come over again. Adela. (To Lord William.) Then, sir, begging your pardon for my boldness, I suppose you are the ghost we heard of? Bar. Yes, and you, I suppose are the sham lady Elinor we have heard of; egad, now I find how things are, I have reason to be in a passion. Lord W. You, sir, (to the Baron,) have a right to an explanation; I scorn to owe my title to force. I am confirmed by my sovereign in the dignity and estates of my father: be assured, however, that I shall be ambitious to prove myself your friend. Bar. And that's an ambition I shall be very glad to gratify you in. Lord W. (To Edw. and Adela.) As for this young couple, I hope I shall have the satisfaction of adding to their store of Hymen's comforts. Edw. Thank you, my lord; I begin to be much less inclined to nobility after the bustle I have seen to-night, and I'm fain to comfort myself with the old remark, "that a title cannot bestow happiness." Adela. Yes, but I can though; there is a title for which I'd give up all others, it is the wife of my Edward. Lady E. My fluttering heart cannot express the joy it feels at your triumph. (To Lord William.) Lord W. A triumph crowned by the possession of that heart which now approves it. FINALE. The banished ills of heretofore LORD WILLIAM and LADY ELINOR. Here let the titled wedded pair, A lesson take from humble life; Forget the husband, and the wife. The present hour is ever ready, Adela. CHORUS. The banished ills, &c. A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY MRS. CENT LIVRE. Enter SIR GEORGE AIRY, meeting CHARLES. Charles. Ha! Sir George Airy, a birding thus early! What forbidden game roused you so soon? for no lawful occasion could invite a person of your figure abroad at such unfashionable hours. Sir G. There are some men, Charles, whom ortune has left free from inquietudes, who are diligently studious to find out ways and means to make themselves uneasy. Charles. Is it possible that anything in nature can ruffle the temper of a man whom the four seasons of the year compliment with as many thousand pounds; nay, and a father at rest with his ances tors. Sir G. But suppose I'm in love with two? Charles. Ay, if thou'rt in love with two hundred, gold will fetch them, I warrant thee, boy. But who are they? who are they? come. Sir G. One is a lady whose face I never saw, but witty to a miracle; the other beautiful as Ve nus Charles. And a fool. Sir G. For aught I know, for I never spoke to her; but you can inform me. I am charmed by the wit of the one, and die for the beauty of the other. Charles. And pray which are you in quest of now? Sir G. I prefer the sensual pleasure; I'm for her I've seen, who is thy father's ward, Miranda. Charles. Nay, then I pity you; for the Jew, my father, will no more part with her and thirty thousand pounds than he would with a guinea to keep me from starving. Sir G. Now you see gold can't do everything, Charles. Charles. Yes; for it is her gold that bars my father's gate against you. Sir G. Why, if he be this avaricious wretch, how cam'st thou by such a liberal education? Charles. Not a sous out of his pocket, I assure you I had an uncle who defrayed that charge; but for some little wildness of youth, though he made me his heir, left dad my guardian till I came to years of discretion, which I presume the old gentleman will never think I am; and now he has got the estate into his clutches, it does me no more good than if it lay in Prester John's dominions. Sir G. What, canst thou find no stratagem to redeem it? Charles. I have made many essays to no purpose; though want, the mistress of invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old fox is too cunning for me. I am upon my last project, which if it fails, then for my last refuge, a brown musket. Sir G. What is't? can I assist thee? Charles. Not yet; when you can, I have confidence enough in you to ask it. Sir G. I am always ready. But what does he intend to do with Miranda? Is she to be sold in private, or will he put her up by way of auction, at who bids most? If so, 'egad I'm for him; my gold, as you say, shall be subservient to my plea sure. Charles. To deal ingenuously with you, Sir George, I know very little of her or home; for since my uncle's death, and my return from travel, I have never been well with my father; he thinks my expenses too great, and I his allowance too little; he never sees me but he quarrels, and to avoid that I shun his house as much as possible. The report is he intends to marry her himself. Sir G. Can she consent to it? Charles. Yes faith, so they say; but I tell you I am wholly ignorant of the matter. I fancy she plays the mother-in-law already, and sets the old gentleman on to do mischief. Sir G. Then I have your free consent to get her? be. Charles. Ay, and my helping hand, if occasion Sir G. Poh! yonder's a fool coming this way; let's avoid him. Charles. What, Marplot? No, no, he's my instrument; there's a thousand conveniences in him; he'll lend me his money, when he has any, run of my errands and be proud on it; in short he'll pimp for me, lie for me, drink for me, do anything but fight for me, and that I trust to my own arm for. Sir G. Nay, then he's to be endured; I never knew his qualifications before. (Retires.) Enter MARPLOT, with a patch across his face. Mar. Dear Charles, your's. Ha! Sir George Airy! the man in the world I have an ambition to be known to. (Aside.) Give me thy hand dear boy. (To Charles.) Charles. A good assurance! But harkye, how came your beautiful countenance clouded in the wrong place? Mar. I must confess 'tis a little mal-a-propos; but no matter for that. A word with you, Charles. Pr'ythee introduce me to Sir George, he is a man of wit, and I'd give ten guineas to Charles. When you have them you mean. Mar. Ay, when I have them; poh, plague, you cut the thread of my discourse. I would give ten guineas, I say, to be ranked in his acquaintance. But, pr'ythee, introduce me. Charles. Well, on condition you'll give us a true account how you came by that mourning nose, I will. Mar. I'll do it. Charles. Sir George, here's a gentleman has a passionate desire to kiss your hand. Sir G. (Advancing.) Oh! I honour men of the sword; and I presume this gentleman is lately come from Spain or Portugal, by his scars. Mar. No, really, Sir George, mine sprung from civil fury. Happening last night to step into the groom-porter's, I had a strong inclination to go ten guineas with a sort of a, sort of a-kind of a milksop, as I thought. A plague of the dice! he flung out, and my pockets being empty, as Charles knows they often are, he proved a surly North Briton, and broke my face for my deficiency. Sir G. Ha, ha! and did not you draw? Mar. Draw, sir! why I did but lay my hand upon my sword to make a swift retreat, and he roared out, Now the deel a ma saul, sir, gin ye touch yer steel I se whip mine through yer wem.' Sir G. Ha, ha, ha! Charles. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Safe was the word. So you walked off, I suppose. Mar. Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my friends, you know. Sir G. Your friends are much obliged to you, sir; I hope you will rank me in that number. Mar. Sir George, a bow from the side-box, or to be seen in your chariot, binds me ever your's. Sir G. Trifles; you may command them when you please. Charles. Provided he may command you. Mar. Me! why I live for no other purpose. Sir George, I have the honour to be caressed by most of the reigning toasts of the town: I'll tell them you are the finest gentleman Sir G. No, no, pr'ythee let me alone to tell the ladies my parts. Can you convey a letter upon occasion, or deliver a message with an air of business, ha? Mar. With the assurance of a page and the gravity of a statesman. Sir G. You know Miranda? Mar. What! my sister ward! why, her guardian is mine; we are fellow sufferers. Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctified curmudgeon: that Sir Francis Gripe is a d-'d old-hypocritical Charles. Hold, hold; I suppose, friend, you forget that he is my father. Mar. I ask your pardon, Charles, but it is for your sake I hate him. Well, I say, the world is mistaken in him; his outside piety makes him every man's executor, and his inside cunning makes him every heir's gaoler. 'Egad, Charles, I'm half persuaded that thou art some ward too, and never of his getting; for never were two things so unlike as you and your father; he scrapes up everything, and thou spendest everything; everybody is indebted to him, and thou art indebted to everybody. Charles. You are very free, Mr. Marplot. Mar. Ay, I give and take, Charles; you may be as free with me, you know. Sir G. A pleasant fellow. Charles. The dog is diverting sometimes, or there would be no enduring his impertinence. He is pressing to be employed, and willing to execute; but some ill fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftener spoils an intrigue than helps it. Mar. I have always your good word; but if I miscarry, 'tis none of my fault; I follow my instructions. Charles. Yes, witness the merchant's wife. Mar. Nay, Charles, now don't expose your friend. Charles. Why, you must know I had lent a certain merchant my hunting horses, and was to have met his wife in his absence. Sending him along with my groom to make the compliment, and to deliver a letter to the lady at the same time, what does he do but gives the husband the letter and offers her the horses. Mar. Why to be sure I did offer her the horses, and I remember you was even with me, for you denied the letter to be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my bones paid for. Charles. Come, Sir George, let us walk round, if you are not engaged, for I have sent my man upon to know the hour. Mar. What did Whisper say now? I shall go stark mad if I'm not let into the secret. (Aside.) Charles. Curst misfortune! Mar. Curst! what's curst, Charles? Charles. Come along with me; my heart feels pleasure at her name. Sir George, yours; we'll meet at the old place, the usual hour. Sir G. Agreed, I think I see Sir Francis yonder. [Exit. Charles. Marplot, you must excuse me; I am engaged. [Exit. Mar. Engaged! Egad, I'll engage my life I'll know what your engagement is. [Exit. Enter MIRANDA. Is his mind set upon the Spaniard for a son-in-law, still? Patch. Ay, and he expects him by the next fleet, which drives his daughter to melancholy and despair. But madam, I find yon retain the same gay, cheerful spirit you had when I waited on your ladyship. My lady is mighty good-humoured too, and I have found a way to make Sir Jealous believe I am wholly in his interest, when my real design is to serve her: he makes me her gaoler, and I set her at liberty. Mir. I knew thy prolific brain would be of singular service to her, or I had not parted with thee to her father. Patch. But, madam, the report is that you are going to marry your guardian. Mir. It is necessary such a report should be, Patch. Patch. But is it true, madam? Mir. That's not absolutely necessary. Patch. I thought it was only the old strain, coaxing him still for your own, and railing at all the young fellows about town: in my mind now, you are as ill plagued with your guardian, madam, as my lady is with her father. what would she give now to be in this dishabille Mir. No, I have liberty, wench; that she wants: in the open air, nay more, in pursuit of the young fellow she likes? for that's my case, I assure you. Patch. As for that, madam, she's even with you; for though she cannot come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spite of old Argus. Mir. Now, Patch, your opinion of my choice, for here he comes. Ha! my guardian with him! what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir Francis can't know me in this dress. Let's ob serve them. (They withdraw.) Enter SIR FRANCIS GRIPE and SIR GEORGE AIRY. Sir F. Verily, Sir George, thou wilt repent throwing away thy money so, for I tell thee sincerely, Miranda, my charge does not like a young Mir. Let the chair wait. My servant, that dog- fellow; they are all vicious, and seldom make ged Sir George, said he was in the park. Enter PATCH. Ha! Miss Patch alone! did not you tell me you had contrived a way to bring Isabinda to the park? Patch. Oh, madam, your ladyship cannot imagine what a wretched disappointment we have met with! Just as I had fetched a suit of my clothes for a disguise, comes my old master into his closet, which is right against her chamber door: this struck us into a terrible fright; at length I put on a grave face, and asked him if he was at leisure for his chocolate? in hopes to draw him out of his hole; but he snapp'd my nose off: "No, I shall be busy here these two hours." At which my poor mistress, seeing no way of escape, ordered me to wait on your ladyship with the sad relation. Mir. Unhappy Isabinda! was ever anything so unaccountable as the humour of Sir Jealous Traffick? Patch. Oh, madam, it's his living so long in Spain; he vows he'll spend half his estate but he'll be a parliament man, on purpose to bring in a bill for women to wear veils, and other odious Spanish customs. He swears it is the height of impudence to have a woman seen barefaced even at church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten child in the city. Mir. Ha, ha, ha! how the old fool torments himself! Suppose he could introduce his rigid rules, does he think we could not match them in contrivance? No, no! let the tyrant man make what laws he will, if there's a woman under the government, I warrant she finds a way to break them. good husbands: In sober sadness she cannot abide them. Mir. (Peeping.) In sober sadness you are mistaken. What can this mean? Sir G. Lookye, Sir Francis, whether she can or cannot abide young fellows is not the business : will you take the fifty guineas? Sir F. In good troth I will not; for I knew thy father, he was a hearty wary man, and I cannot consent that his son should squander away what he saved to no purpose. Mir. (Peeping.) Now, in the name of wonder, what bargain can he be driving about me for fifty guineas?" Sir G. Well, Sir Francis, since you are so conscientious for my father's sake, then permit me the favour gratis. Sir F. No verily; if thou dost not buy thy experience thou wilt never be wise; therefore give me a hundred and try thy fortune. Sir G. The scruples arose, I find, from the scanty sum. Let me see a hundred guineas. (Takes the money out of a purse and chinks it.) Ha! they have a very pretty sound, and a very pleasing look. But then, Miranda; but if she should be cruel Sir F. Ay, do consider on't. He, he, he! Sir G. No, I'll do it. Come, to the point; here is the gold; sum up the conditions. (Sir Francis pulls out a paper.) Mir. (Peeping.) Ay, for heaven's sake do, for my expectation is on the rack. Sir F. Well, at your peril be it. |