« EelmineJätka »
frighten away fpirits ? dost thou think I could not in Itruct thee in several other comforts of matrimony?
LADY. Ah! but you are a man of so much knowledge that you would always be laughing at iny ignorance you learned men are so apt to despite one!
T T N S E L. No, child! I'd teach thee my principles, thou should'st be as wise as I am in a week's time.
L A D Y Do you think your principles would make a woman the better wife?
LADY I love a gay temper, but I would not have you rally things that are serious.
TINSEL. Well enough, faith! Where's the jeft of rallying any thing else!
ABIGA L. Ah, Madam, did you ever hear Mr. Fantome talk at this rate ?
Afide. TINSEL But where's this ghoft! the son of a whore of a drummer I'd fain hear hin methinks,
A BIG A L. Pray, Madam, don't suffer him to give the ghoft such ill language, especially when you have reafon to believe it is my m after.
T IN SE L. That's well enough faith, Nab; doft thou think thy master is so unreasonable, as to continue his claim to his relict after his bones arę laid? Pray, widow, remember the words of your contract, have you fulfilled them to a tittle did not
Sir George to the tune of until death us do parts
L A D Y.' I must not hear Sir George's memory treated in fo fight a manner-this fellow muit have been at some pains to make himself such a finished coxcomb.
[ Afide, T I N S E L... Give me but possession of your person, and I'll whirl you up to town for a winter, and cure you at once. Oh! I have known niany a country Lady come to Lon-lon with frightful stories of the hall-house being haunted, of fairies, spirits, and witches; that by the time she had seen a comedy, played at an affembly, and ambled in a ball or two, has been so little afraid of bugbears, that. she has ventured home in a chair at all'hours of the night.
to A BIGA L.. Hum-fauce-box.
Afde. TINSEL 'Tis the fofitude of the country that creates these whimsies ; there was never such a thing as a ghost heard of at London, except in the play-house-Oh, we'd pass all our time at London,' 'Tis the fcene of pleafure and diversions, where there's something to amuse you every hour of the day. Life's not life in the country.
L A D Y: Well then, you have an opportunity of fhewing the fincerity of that love to me which you profess. You may give a proof that you have aș affection to my person, not my jointure.
TINSE L. Your jointure! how can you think me such a dog! but child, won't your jointure be the faine thing in Lone don as in the country?
LADY No, you're deceived! you must know it is settled on me by marriage-articles, on condition that I live in this old mansion-house, and keep it up in repair.
A BIG A L. That's well put, Madam,
TINSE L. Why, faith, I have been looking upon this house, and think it is the prettiest habitation I ever faw in my life
L. A DY, Ay, but then this cruel drum !
T I N S E L. Something so venerable in it!
LADY Ay, but the drum!
T I N 8 E L. • For my part, I like this Gothic way of building better than
any of our new orders -it.would be a thoufand pities it should fall to ruin.
LADY. Ay, but the dram!
TINSEL. How pleasantly we two could pass our time in this delicious situation! Our lives would be a continued dream of happiness.. Come, faith, widow, let's go upon the leads, and take a view of the country.
LADY. Ay, but the drum ! the drum!
TINSE L. My dear, take my word, for't, it's alt fancy: Besides fhould he drum in thy very bed-chamber, I should only bug thee the closer. Luv
Clasp?d in the folds of love, Pd meet my doom,
fbook the room.
SCENE opens, and discovers Vellum in his
Office, and a Letter in his hanch
I believe my own eyesor rather my spectacles To Humpbrez • Vellum, Efq; fteward to the Lady Truman.
V E L L U My
Doubt not but you will be glad to hear your mas
ter is alive, and designs to be with you in 'half an hour. The report of my being Nain in the Netherlands • has, I find, produced foine disorders in my family. I s am now at the George-Inn"; if an old inan with a gray « beard in a black cloke, enquires after you, give him. • admittance. He passes for a conjurer, but is really
Your faithful friend,
P. S. · Let this be a secret, and you shiall find your account in it.".
This amazeth me! and yet the reasons why I should be heva né is itill living are manifold--First, because this has ofienbein the case of ocher military adventurers.,
Secondly, because the news of his death was first published in Dyer's Letter.
Thirdly, because this letter can be written by none but himself>I know his hand, and manner of spelling.
Enter Bu I L E R.
BU T L E R. Sir, here's a étrange old gentleman that asks for you ; he says he's a conjurer, but he looks very suspicious ; I wish he ben't a jesuit.
VELLU M. Admit him immediately,
BU T L E R. I wish he ben't a jesuit ; but he says he's nothing but a conjurer.
V E L L U M. He says right he is no more than a conjurer. Bring him in, and withdraw.
(Exit Butlet. And fourthly, as I was saying, e ause
Enter. Bu tiek witb Sir GEORG E.
BU TL E R. Sir, here is the conjurer—what a devilish long beard he has! | warrant it has been growing these hundred years.
[Afide, Exit. Sir GEORGE. Dear Vellum, you have received iny letter ; but before we proceed lock the door.
VELLUM. It is his voice.
[Shuts the door. Sir GEORG E. In the next place help me off with this cumbersome cloke.