Sir P. Plot and counterplot! I wish your ladyship joy of your negociation. Lady S. The torments of shame and disappointment on you all! Lady T. Hold! Lady Sneerwell, before you go, let me thank you for the trouble you and that gentleman have taken, in writing letters from me to Charles, and answering them yourself; and let me also request you to make my respects to the scandalous college, of which you are president, and inform them, that Lady Teazle, licentiate, begs leave to return the diploma they granted her, as she leaves off practice, and kills characters no longer. Lady S. You, too, madam,-provoking, insolentMay your husband live these fifty years! Sir P. Oons! what a fury! Lady T. A malicious creature, indeed? Sir P. What! Not for her last wish? Lady T. Oh, no! [Exit. Sir O. Well, sir, and what have you to say now? Joseph. Sir, I am so confounded, to find that Lady Sneerwell could be guilty of suborning Mr. Snake in this manner, to impose on us all, that I know not what to say: however, lest her revengeful spirit should prompt her to injure my brother, I had certainly better follow her directly. For the man who attempts to Sir O. Ay, and marry her, Joseph, if you can. Egad! you'll do very well together. Row. I believe we have no more occasion for Mr. Snake, at present. Snake. Before I go, I beg pardon once for all, for whatever uneasiness I have been the humble instrument of causing to the parties present. Sir P. Well, well; you have made atonement by a good deed at last. Snake. But I must request of the company, that it shall never be known. Sir P. Eh! What the plague, are you ashamed of having done a right thing once in your life? Snake. Ah! sir, consider, I live by the baseness of my character; and if it were once known that I had been betrayed into an honest action, I should lose every friend I have in the world. [Exit. Sir O. Well, well; we'll not traduce you by saying anything in your praise, never fear. Lady T. See, Sir Oliver, there needs no persuasion now to reconcile your nephew and Maria. Sir O. Ay, ay; that's as it should be; and, egad! we'll have the wedding to-morrow morning. Charles. Thank you, dear uncle! Sir P. What, you rogue, don't you ask the girl's consent first? Charles. Oh! I have done that a long time-a minute ago, and she has looked yes. Maria. For shame, Charles! I protest, Sir Peter, there has not been a word. May Sir O. Well, then, the fewer the better. your love for each other never know abatement! Sir P. And may you live as happily together as Lady Teazle and I intend to do! Charles. Rowley, my old friend, I am sure you congratulate me: and I suspect that I owe you much. Sir P. Ay, honest Rowley always said you would reform. Charles. Why, as to reforming, Sir Peter, I'll make no promises, and that I take to be a proof that I intend to set about it; but here shall be my monitor, my gentle guide-Ah! can I leave the virtuous path those eyes illumine? Though thou, dear maid, shouldst wave thy beauty's sway, Thou still mus rule, because I will obey: (To the Audience. You can, indeed, each anxious fear remove, For even Scandal dies, if you approve. [Exeunt. A PLAY, IN THREE ACTS.-BY GEORGE COLMAN. Sir E.-"I HAD FORGOT THE KEY, AND-HA! BY HELL!"-Act 1, scene 3. have no bowels for us lowly: they little think, while they are gorging on the fat haunch of a goodly buck, what fatigues we poor honest souls undergo in stealing it! Why, sister Barbara! Bar. (Rising and coming forward.) I am here, brother Samson. Sam. Here! - Marry, out upon you for an idle baggage!-Why, you crawl like a snail. Bar. I pr'ythee, now, do not chide me, Samson! Sam. 'Tis my humour. I am father's head man in his poaching: the rubs I take from him, who is above me, I hand down to you, who are below 'Tis the way of office, where every miserable devil domineers it over the next more miserable devil that's under him. You may scold sister Margery, an you will; she's your younger by a twelvemonth. me. Bar. Truly, brother, I would not make any one unhappy for the world: I am content to do what I can to please, and to mind the house. Sam. Truly, a weighty matter! Thou art e'en ready to hang thyself for want of something to while away time. What hast thou much more to do than to trim the faggots, nurse thy mother, boil the pot, patch our jackets, kill the poultry, cure the hogs, feed the pigs, and comb the children? Bar. Many might think that no small charge, Samson. Sam. A mere nothing; while father and I (bate us but the mother and children) have the credit of purloining every single thing that you have the care of. We are up early, and down late, in the exercise of our industry. Bar. I wish father and you would give up the calling. us. Sam. No: there is one kcen argument to prevent Bar. What's that, brother? Sam. Hunger Wouldst have us be rogues, and let our family starve? Give up poaching and deer-stealing! Oons! dost think we have no conscience. Yonder sits poor mother, poor soul! old, helpless, and crazy. Bar. Alas! brother, tis heart-aching to look upon her. This very time three years she got her maim: it was a piteous tempest. Sam. Ay, 'twas rough weather. Bar. I never pass the old oak that was shivered that night in the storm, but I am ready to weep: it remembers me of the time when all our poor family went to ruin. Sam. Pish! no matter: the cottage was blown down, the barn fired, father undone. Well, landlords are flinty-hearted-no help; what then? We live, don't we? Bar. Troth, brother, very sadly. Father has grown desperate-all is fallen to decay; we live by pilfering on the forest, and our poor mother distracted, and unable to look to the house. The rafter which fell in the storm struck so heavy upon her brain, I fear me 'twill never again be settled. The little ones, too, scarce clothed - hungry almost starving! Indeed, we are a very wretched family. [A knock at the cottage-door. Sam. Hark! methought I heard a tread. [He opens the door Enter RAW BOLD. Raw. Bar the door; so-softly! Sam. (To Barbara.) Why, how you stand!-The chair, you gander! [They bring forward a chair-Raubold sits. Raw. Here, take my gun-'tis unscrewed. The keepers are abroad; I had scarce time to get it in my pocket. (He pulls the gun from a pocket under his coat, in three pieces, which Samson screws together while they are talk ng.) Fie! 'tis sharp work! Barbara, you jade! come hither. Sam. Barbara, you jade! come hither. Raw. Who bid thee chide her, lout? Kiss tby old father, wench-kiss me, I say!-So. Why dost tremble? I am rough as a tempest; evil fortune has blown my lowering nature into turbulence; but thou art a blossom that dost bend thy head so sweetly under my gusts of passion, 'tis pity they should ever harm thee. Bar. Indeed, father, I am glad to see you safe returned. Raw. I believe thee. Take the keys; go to the locker in the loft, and bring me a glass to recruit Exit Burbara. me. Sam. Well, father, and so Raw. Peace!-I ha' shot a buck. Sam. Oh, rare! Of all the sure aims on the borders of the New Forest here, give me old Gilbert Rawbold; though I, who am his son, say it, that should not say it. Where have you stowed him, father? Raw. Under the furze, behind the hovel. Come night again, we will draw him in, boy. I have been watched. Sam. Watched!-Oh, the pestilence!-Our trade will be spoiled if the groom-keepers be after us; the law will persecute us, father. Raw. Dost know Mortimer? Sam. What, Sir Edward Mortimer? Ay, sure; he is head-keeper of the forest. "Tis he who has shut himself up in melancholy; sees no rich, and does so much good to the poor. Raw. He has done nought but evil. A gun cannot be carried on the border here, but he has scent on't at a league's distance. He is a thorn to me: his scouts this night were after me, all on the watch. I'll be revenged-I'll-So, the brandy. Re-enter BARBARA, with the liquor. Raw. (After drinking.) 'Tis right. i'faith; Sam. That 'tis, l'll be sworn; for I smuggled it myself. We do not live so near the coast for nothing. Raw. Sir Edward Mortimer look to't! Bar. Sir Edward Mortimer! Oh, dear father, what of him? Raw. Ay, now thou art all agog! Thou wouldst hear somewhat of that smooth-torgued fellow, his secretary-his clerk, Wilford, whom thou so often meet'st in the forest. I have news on't. Look how you walk thither, again! What, thou wouldst betray me to him, I warrant-conspire against your father! Sam. Ay, conspire against your father, and your tender loving brother, you viper, you! Bar. Beshrew me, father, I meant no harm; and, indeed, indeed, Wilford is as handsome a-I mean, as good a youth as ever breathed. If I thought he meant ill by you, 1 should hate him. Raw. When didst see him last?-Speak! Bar. You terrify me so, father, I am scarce able to speak. Yesternoon, by the copse: 'twas but to Raw. Good: my limbs ache for't. How you read with him the book of sonnets he gave me, stand!-the chair, you gander! Sam. That's the way your sly, grave rogues work friends. into the hearts of the females. I never knew any Raw. Your hand: on your account, we are good come of a girl's reading sonnets with a learned clerk in a copse. Raw. Let me hear no more of your meeting. I am content to think you would not plot my undoing. Bar. I?-Oh, father! Raw. But he may plot yours. Mark me; fortune has thrust me forth to prowl, like the wolf; but the wolf is anxious for its young. I am an outcast, whom hunger has hardened; I violate the law, but feeling is not dead within me; and, callous villain as I am accounted, I would tear the greater villain piecemeal, who would violate my child, and rob an old man of the little remains of comfort wretchedness has left him! [A knocking at the door A Voice. (Without.) Hilliho! ho! Sam. There, an they be not after us already! I'll-We have talked, too, till 'tis broad daylight. Wilford. (Without.) Open, good Master Rawbold; I would speak to you suddenly. Bar. Oh, heaven! 'tis the voice of Wilford himself! Raw. Wilford!-I'm glad on't! Now he shallI'm glad on't! Open the door-quickly, I say! He shall smart for it! Sam. Are you mad, father? 'Tis we shall smart for it. Let in the keeper's head man! The buck you have just shot, you know, is hard at hand. Raw. Open, I say! Sam. Oh, lord! I defy any secretary's nose not to smell stolen venison now, the moment 'tis thrust near our hovel! Enter WILFORD. [Opens the door. Wil. Save you, good people. You are Gilbert Rawbold, as I take it. Raw. I am. Your message here, young man, bodes me no good; but I am Gilbert Rawbold, and here's my daughter: dost thou know her? Wil. Ah, Barbara! good wench, how fares it with you? Raw. Look on her well, then consult your own conscience: 'tis difficult, haply, for a secretary to find one. You are a villain! Wil. You lie! Hold! I crave pardon. You are her father; she is innocent, and you are unhappy. I respect virtue and misfortune too much to shock the one, or insult the other. Raw. 'Sdeath! why meet my daughter in the forest? Wil. Because I love her. Wil. That's a strange way of showing one's love, methinks. I have a simple notion, Gilbert, that the thought of having taken a base advantage of a poor girl's affection might go nigh to break a man's sleep, and give him unquiet dreams; now, I love my night's rest, and shall do nothing to disturb it. Raw. Wouldst not poison her mind? Wil. 'Tis not my method, friend, of dosing a patient. Look ye, Gilbert; her mind is a fair flower, stuck in the rude soil here of surrounding ignorance, and smiling in the chill of poverty. would fain cheer it with the little sunshine I possess of comfort and information. My parents were poor, like hers: should occasion serve, I might haply, were all parties agreed, make her my wife. To make her aught else would affect her, you, and myself; and I have no talent at making three people uneasy at the same time. Bar. Oh, dear father! Raw. Be silent. Now to your errand: 'tis from Mortimer. Wil. I come from Sir Edward. Raw. I know his malice: he would oppress me with his power-he would starve me and my family. Search my house. Sam. No, father, no! (Aside.) You forget the buck under the furze. Raw. Let him do his worst, but let him bewarea tyrant! a villain! (Samson gets round to co ner.) Wil. Hark ye: he is my master; I owe him my gratitude-every thing; and had you been any but the father of my Barbara, and spoken so much against him, my indignation had worked into my knuckles, and crammed the words down your rusty throat! Sam. (Aside.) I do begin to perceive how thi will end father will knock down the secretary e flat as a buck! Raw. Why am I singled out? Is there no mark for the vengeance of office to shoot its shaft at bu me?-This morning, as he dogged me in the forest Wil. Hush, Rawbold! keep your counsel. Should you make it public, he must notice it. Raw. Did he not notice it? Wil. No matter; but he has sent me thus early, he has heard of. Here are twenty marks for you Gilbert, with this relief to your distresses, which and your family. Raw. From Sir Edward Mortimer? Wil. 'Tis his way; but he would not have it mentioned. He is one of those judges who, in their office, will never warp the law to save offenders; but his private charity bids him assist the needy, before their necessities drive them to crimes, which his public duty must punish. Raw. Did Mortimer do this? did he?-Heaven bless him! Oh, young man, if you knew half the misery-my wife-my children! Shame on't! I have stood many a tug, but the drops now fall, in spite of me! I am not ungrateful, but I cannot stand it! We will talk of Barbara when I have more man about me. [Exit up the staircase. Wil. Farewell! I must home to the lodge quickly; Ere this I warrant I am looked for Wil. Bar. Sam. QUINTETTO. The sun has tipp'd the hills with red, The punchy parson waddles from his bed, The dapper village cock is crowing Adieu!-And should you think upon That there lives little Barbara. And Samson, too, good sir, in smoke and smother, Barbara's very tender, loving brother. Boy. [To Samson.] Brother, look; the sun aloof Children. Give us food, good brother, pray! Sam. Stop their bawling! Hungry stomachs there's no balking: I wish I could stop their mouths with talking. Wil. Adieu! adieu !-1 must be going; Bar. Sam. Stop their bawling! Sam. Adieu! my little Barbara! Wil. & Oh, think on little Barbara! Bar. You'll think on little Barbara! SCENE II.-An old-fashioned Hall in Sir Edward Win. What, wag! what, tulip!-I never see thee, but I am a score of years the younger." Blanch. Nay, then, let us not meet often, or you will soon be in your second childhood." Win. What, you come from your mistress, the Lady Helen, in the forest here; and would speak with Sir Edward Mortimer, I warrant? Blanch. I would. Is his melancholy worship stirring yet? Win. Fie, you mad-cap!-He is my master, and your lady's friend. Blanch, Yes, truly, it seems her only one, poor lady; he protects her now she is left an orphan. Win. A blessing on his heart! I would it were merrier. Well, should they happen to marry, (and I have my fancies on't) I'll dance a galliard with thee in the hall, on the round oak table. 'Sbud! when I was a youth, I would ha" 'capered with St. Vitus, and beat him. Blanch. You are as likely to dance now, as they to marry. What has hindered them, if the parties be agreed? Yet I have, now, been with my mistress these two years, since Sir Edward first came hither, and placed her in the cottage hard by his lodge. Win. Tush! family reasons. Thou knowest nothing-thou art scarce catched. Two years back, when we came from Kent, and Sir Edward firstentered on his office here of head-keeper, thou wert a colt, running wild about New Forest. I hired you myself, to attend on Madam Helen. Blanch. Nay, I shall never forget it. But you Win. Peace, peace, you pie!-An you prate thus, Win. Softly, varlets, softly? See you crack none of the stone flaggons. Nay, 'tis plain your own breakfasts be toward, by your scuttling thus. A goodly morning! Why, you giddy-pated knave. (To Peter.) is it so you carry a dish of pottery?-at No heed of our good master, Sir Edward Mortimer's ware? Fie, Peter Pickbone, fle! Pet. I am in haste, master steward, to break my fast. Win. To break thy fast!-To break thy neck, it seem. (Laughing.) Ha! ha! good, i'faith! Go thy ways, knave! (Exit Peter.) 'Tis thus the rogues ever have me: I would fain be angry with them, but straight a merry jest passoth across me, and my choler is over. To break thy neck, should seem! (Laughing.) Ha ha! 'twas well conceited, by St. Thomas! My table-book for the business of the day. Ah! my memory holds not as it did-it needs the spur. (Looking over his book.) Nine-andforty years have I been house-steward and butler. It is a long lease. Let me see - my tablets. [Looking over them, and singing. "When birds do carol on the bush. With a heigh no nonny”—Heigho! These fatigues of office somewhat wear a man. I have had a long lease on't: I ha' seen out Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, and King James. 'Tis e'en almost time that I should retire, to begin to enjoy myself. (Looking off) Eh! by St. Thomas! hither trips the fair mistress Blanch. Of all the waitinggentlewomen I ever looked on, during the two last reigns, none stirred my fancy like this little rose-bud. Enter BLANCHI. Blanch. A good day, good Adam Winterton. Win. Out, you baggage! thou hast more tricks his study, and there thou wilt find him.-Ah, than a kitten. Well, go thy ways; Sir Edward is Mistress Blanch! had you but seen me sixty years ago, in the early part of Queen Elizabeth's reign! Blanch. How old art thou now, Adam? Win. Fourscore, come Martlemas; and, by our lady! I can run with a lapwing. Blanch. Canst thou? Well said!-Thou art a merry old man, and shalt have a kiss of me, on one condition. Win. Shall I?-Odsbud! mine. name it, and 'tis [Runs off. Blanch. Then catch me. my legs had served: I was a clean-limbed stripling, Win. Pestilence on't!-There was a time when when I first stood behind Sir Marmaduke's armchair in the old oak cating-room." [Retires up. Enter WILFORD. Wil. Every new of and the Edward's charity sets me a thinking act of ore I think, the more I ill at ease, who is continually doing good! At am puzzled. "Tis strange that a man should be so times, the wild glare of his eye is frightful. I almost give my life to unravel it. I must to him would stake my life there's a secret; and I could for my morning's employment. Win. Ah, boy! Wilford! secretary! whither away, lad? Wil. Mr. Winterton! (Aside.) Ay, marry, this good old man has the clue, could I but soax him to give it to me. (Aloud.) A good morning to you, sir. |