WELLBORN discovered, in tattered apparel, knocking at the Alehouse-door; TAPWELL and FROTH come from the house.

Well. No credit? nor no liquor?

Tap. Not a suck, sir;

Not the remainder of a single can,

Left by a drunken porter.

WATCHALL. VINTNER. TAILOR. SERVANTS.

LADY ALLWORTE. MARGARET.

ABIGAIL.

TABITHA.

FROTH.

Tap. Advance your Plymouth cloak, There dwells, and within call, if it please your That does command a citadel, call'd the stocks; A potent monarch, call'd the constable, [worship, Such as with great dexterity will hale

Your threadbare, tatter'd

Well. Rascal! slave!

Froth. No rage, sir.

Tap. At his own peril. Do not put yourself In too much heat, there being no water near

morning's draught, sir:

Rogue, what am I?

'Tis verity, I assure you. Well. Verity, you brach! The devil turned precisian? Tap. Troth, durst I trust you with a lookingglass,

To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me,
And take the name yourself.

Well. How? dog! (Raising his cudgel.)
No. 6.-THE BRITISH DRAMA.

K

You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir. Well. Why, thou unthankful villain, dar'st thou talk thus?

Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?

Tap. I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell Does keep no other register.

Well. Am not I he,

Whose riots fed and cloth'd thee? Wert thou not Born on my father's land, and proud to be

A drudge in his house?

Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not;
What you are is apparent; but, since you
Talk of father, in my hope it will torment you,
I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,
Old Sir John Wellborn,

My quondam master, was a man of worship;
Bore the whole sway of the shire, kept a great
house,

Reliev'd the poor, and so forth; but he dying,
And his estate coming to you,

Late master Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn-
Well. Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.
Froth. Very hardly;

You cannot out of your way.

[gallant,

Tap. You were then a lord of acres, the prime And I your under butler..

O you'd merry time of't; hawks and bounds,
With choice of running horses, mistresses,
And other such extravagancies, which
Your uncle, Sir Giles Overreach, observing,
Resolving not to lose the opportunity,
On statutes, mortgages, and binding bonds,
Awhile supplied your folly, and, having got
Your land, then left you.

Well. Some curate hath penn'd this invective, And you have studied it. [mongrel,

Tap. I have not done yet;

Your land gone, and your credit not worth a token, You grew the common borrower; no man 'scap'd

And keeps her reputation pure and clear. But, 'pr'ythee, tell me,

Has she no suitors?

Allw. E'en the best of the shire, Frank, My lord excepted; such as sue and send, And send and sue again; but to no purpose. Their frequent visits have not gain'd her presence; Yet she's so far from sullenness and pride, That, I dare undertake, you shall meet from her A liberal entertainment.

Well. I doubt it not. Now, Allworth, listen to me,

And mark my counsel: I am bound to give it.
Thy father was my friend; and that affection
I bore to him, in right descends to thee;
I will not have the least affront stick on thee,
If I with any danger can prevent it.

Allw. I thank your noble care; but pray you, in what

Do I run the hazard?

Well. Art thou not in love?

Put it not off with wonder.

Allw. In love?

Well. You think you walk in clouds, but are

transparent.

I've heard all, and the choice that you have made;
And, with my finger, can point out the north star
By which the loadstone of your folly's guided;
And to confirm this true, what think you of
Fair Margaret, the only child and heir
Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start,
To hear her only nam'd? Blush at your want
Of wit and reason.

Allw. Howe'er you have discover'd my intents,
You know my aims are lawful; and, if ever
The queen of flowers, the boast of spring, the rose,
Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer
There's such disparity in their conditions,
Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter,
And the base churl, her father.

Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er,
And think of some course suitable to thy rank,
And prosper in it.

Allw. You have well advis'd me.
But, in the meantime, you, that are so studious
Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own.
Remember yourself, and in what plight you are.
Well. No matter, no matter.
Allw. Yes, tis much material:

You know my fortune, and my means; yet something

I can spare from myself, to help your wants.

Well. How's this?

Aller. Nay, be not angry.
Well. Money from thee?

From a boy? one that lives

(Offers him money.)

At the devotion of a stepmother,
And the uncertain favour of a lord?

I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind Fortune
Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me,
Though I am rudely thrust out of an alehouse,
And thus accoutred,-know not where to eat,