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A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY PHILIP MASS INGER.

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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.

AMBLE.

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!

Fro'h. No rage, sir.

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

Froth. Not the dropping of the tap for your To quench your thirst; and other drink, I take it,

morning's draught, sir:

'Tis verity, I assure you. Well. Verity, you brach!

The devil turned precisian? Rogue, what am I? 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, Your land gone, and your credit not worth a token, You grew the common borrower; no man 'scap'd you;

Tap. I have not done yet;

Where poor Tim Tapwell, with a little stock,
Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage;
Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here.
Well. Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound! Did not I
Make purses for you? Then you lick'd my boots,
And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to clean

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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.

All. 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.

Well. Grant this true,

As I believe it, canst thou ever hope

To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father Ruin'd thy state?

Allw. And yours too.

Well. I confess it, Allworth.

Or canst thou think, if self-love blind thee not,
That Sir Giles Overreach, who, to make her great
In swelling titles, without touch of conscience,
Will cut his neighbour's throat, and, I hope, his
own too,

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

Alli. 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?

Alli. Nay, be not angry.

Well. Money from thee?

From a boy? one that lives

At the devotion of a stepmother,

(Offers him money.)

And the uncertain favour of a lord?

I'll eat my arms first. How soe'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,

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SCENE IL-A Hali in Lady Allworth's house. AMBLE, ORDER, FURNACE, and WATCHALL, discovered.

Ord. Set all things right; or, as my name is
Order,

And by this staff of office that commands you,
This chain and double ruff, symbols of power,
Whoever misses in his function,

For one whole week makes forfeiture of his breakfast,

And privilege in the wine-cel'ar.

Wat. You are merry,

Good master Steward.

Fur. Let him; I'll be angry.

Amb. Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock yet,

Nor dinner taken up; then 'tis allow'd,
Cooks, by their places, may be choleric.

Fur. You think you've spoken wisely, goodman My lady's go-before.

Ord. Nay, nay, no wrangling.

[Amble,

Fur. Twit me with the authority of the kitchen! At all hours, and at all places, I'll be angry; And, thus provok'd, when I am at my prayers I will be angry.

Amb. There was no hurt meant.

Fur. I'm friends with thee; and yet I will be Wat. With whom?

[angry.

Fur. No matter whom; yet, now I think on't,

I'm angry with my lady.

Amb. Heaven forbid, man!

Ord. What cause has she given thee?
Fur. Cause enough, master Steward,

I was entertain'd by her to please her palate,
And, till she forswore eating, I perform'd it.
Now, since our master, noble Allworth, died,
Though I crack my brains to find out tempting
When I am three parts roasted,
[sauces,
And the fourth part parboil'd, to prepare her viands,
She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada,
Or water-gruel, my sweat never thought on.
Ord. But your art is seen in the dining-room.
Fur. By whom?

By such as pretend love to her; but come
To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies
That do devour her, I am out of charity
With none so much as the thin-gutted squire
That's stolen into com mission.

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Enter LADY ALLWORTH, ABIGAIL and
ТАВІТНА.

Lady. Sort those silks well.
I'll take the air alone:

[Exeunt Tabitha and Abigail. And, as I gave directions, if this morning I'm visited by any, entertain them As heretofore; but say, in my excuse, I'm indispos'd.

Ord. We shall, madam.
Lady. Do, and leave me.

[Exeunt Watchall, Furnace, Order, and
Amble.

Nay, stay you, Allworth. Tell me, how is't with
Your noble master?

Allw. Ever like himself;

No scruple lesson'd in the full weight of honour. He did command me, pardon my presumption,As his unworthy deputy, to kiss

Your ladyship's fair hands.

Lady. I'm honour'd in

His favour to me. Does he hold his purpose
For the low countries?

All. Constantly, good madam;

But will, in person, first present his service.
Lady. And how approve you of his course?
you're yet,

Like virgin parchment, capable of any
Inscription, vicious or honourable:

I will not force your will, but leave you free
To your own election.

Allw. Any form you please

I will put on; but, might I make my choice,
With humble emulation, I would follow
The path my lord marks to me.

Lady. 'Tis well answer'd;

And I commend your spirit: your father, Allworth,
My ever-honour'd husband, some few hours
Before the will of heaven took him from me,
Did commend you, e'en by the dearest ties
Of perfect love between us, to my charge:
And, therefore, when I speak, you are bound to
With such respect, as if he liv'd in me.
Allw. I have found you,

[hear

Most honour d madam, more than a mother to me;
And, with my utmost strength of care and service,
Will labour that you may never repent
Your bounties shower'd upon ne.

Lady. I much hope it.

These were your father's words: If e'er my son
Follow the war, tell him, it is a school
Where all the principles tending to honour
Are taught, if truly follow'd; but for such
As repair thither, as a place in which

They do presume they may with license practice
Their lawless riots, they shall never merit
The noble name of soldiers.

To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies:
To bear with patience the winter's cold,
And summer's scorching heat;
To dare boldly

In a fair cause; and, for their country's sake,
| To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted,
These are the essential parts make up a soldier;
Not swearing, dice, or drinking.

Allwo. There's no syllable

You speak, but is to me an oracle.
Lady. To conclude:

Beware ill company; for, often, men

Are like to those with whom they do converse;

And from one man I warn you, and that's Well

born;

Not, 'cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity; But that he's in his manners so deprav'd,

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Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve,
And not dispute: howe'er, you're nobly welcome;
And, if you please to stay, that you may think so,
There came, not six days since, from Hull, a
pipe

Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself
For my lady's honour.

Gree. Is it of the right race?

(Sir G. and Mar. converse apart.)
Ord. Yes, master Greedy.
Amb. How his mouth runs o'er!
Fur. I'll make it run and run.

Save your good worship.

Gree. Honest master Cook, thy hand; again, how
I love thee!

Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.
Fur. If you've a mind to feed, there is a chine

Of beef well season'd.

Gree. Good.

Fur. A pheasant larded.

Gre. That I might now give thanks for't!

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Fur. Will you know your way, sir?
Amb. Or shall we teach it you,

By the head and shoulders?

Well. No; I will not stir;

[the wretch

Do you mark? I will not. (Starts up.) Let me see
That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,
Created only to make legs, and cringe;

1 Fur. Besides, there came last night, from the To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher;

forest of Sherwood,

The fattest stag I ever cook'd.

Gree. A stag, man?

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All business set aside, let us give thanks here.
Sir G. (Advancing.) You know, we cannot.
Mar. Your worships are to sit on a commission,
And, if you fail to come, you lose the cause.

Gree. Cause me no causes; I'll prove't, for such
a dinner,

We may put off a commission; you shall find it
Henrici decimo quarto.

Sir G. Fie, master Greedy,

Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?
No more, for shame! We must forget the belly,
When we think of profit.

Gree. Well, you shall o'er-rule me.
I could e'en cry now.

Cook?

That have not souls only to hope a blessing
Beyond your master's leaving,-who advances?
Who shews me the way?

(Beats them.)

All the Servants. Help, fellows, help!
there!

Ord. Here comes my lady,

Enter LADY ALLWORTH.

Lady. How now? What noise is this?

Well. Madam, my designs

Bear me to you.

Lady. To me?

Well. And, though I've met with

Within

But ragged entertainment from your grooms here,
I hope from you to receive that noble usage,
As may become the true friend of your husband,
And then I shall forget these.

Lady. I'm amaz'd,

To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think,
Though sworn, that it can ever find belief
That I, who to the best men of this country
Denied my presence since my husband's death,
Can fall so low, as to exchange words with thee?
Well. Scorn me not, good lady;

Do you hear, master But, as in form you are angelical,

Send but a corner of that immortal pasty,
And, in thankfulness, will, by your boy,
Send you a brace of threepences.

Fur. Will you be so prodigal?

Sir G. (To Ord.) Remember me to your lady.
Enter WELLBORN.

Whom have we here?
Well. You know me.

Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe
At the least awhile to hear me. You will grant
The blood that runs in this arm is as noble
As that which fills your veins: your swelling titles,
Your ample fortune, with your men's observance
And women's flattery, are in you no virtues;
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.
You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it;
Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more

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