ACT V. SCENE I Enter Sir George in his Conjurer's Habit, the Butler marching before him with two large Can dles, and the two Servants coming after him, one bringing a little Table, and another a Chair. BUTLER. N'T please your worship, Mr. Conjurer, the fteward has given all of us orders to do whatever you fhall bid us, and pay you the fame refpect, as if you were our mafter. Sir GEORGE. Thou fay'st well. GARDINER. An't please your conjurer's worship, shall I set the table down here ? Here, Peter. Sir GEORGE. GARDINER. Peter!- -he knows my name by his learning. COACH MAN. [Afide I have brought you, reverend Sir, the largest elbow chair in the houfe; 'tis that the steward fits in when he holds a court. Place it there. Sir GEORGE. BUTLER Sir, will you please to want any thing else? Paper, and a pen and ink. BUTLER. Sir, I believe we have paper that is fit for your purpofe! my Lady's mourning paper, that is blacked at the edges would you choofe to write with a crow-quill ? Sir GEORGE. There is none better. BUTLER. Coachman, go fetch the paper and ftandifly out of the little parlour. COACHMAN.. [to the Gardiner.] Peter, pr'ythee do thou go along with me—I'm afraid -you know I went with you laft night into the garden, when the Cook-maid wanted a handful of parsley. BUTLER. Why, you don't think I'll ftay with the Conjurer by myself! GARDINER. Come, we'll all three go and fetch the pen and ink together... [Exeunt fervants. Sir GEORGE, folus. There's nothing, Isec, makes such Arong alliances as fear. These fellows are all entered into a confederacy against the ghoft. There must be abundance of business done in the family at this rate. But here comes the triple alliance. Who could have thought these three rogues could have found each of 'em an employment in fetching a pen and ink ? Enter Gardiner with a sheet of paper, Coachman with a Standifb, and Butler with a Pen. GARDINER. Sir, there is your paper. COACH COACHMAN. Sir, there is your ftandish. BUTLER. Sir, there is your crow-quill pen - I'm glad I have got rid on't. GARDINER. He forgets that he's to make a circle [Afide.] Doctor, fhall I help you to a bit of chalk? It is no matter. Sir GEORGE. BUTLER. [Afide. Look ye, Sir, I showed you the fpot where he's heard ofteneft, if your worship can but ferret him out of that old wall in that next room— We shall try. Sir GEORGE. GARDINER. That's right, Jobn. His worship muft let fly all his learning at that old wall. BUTLER. Sir, if I was worthy to advise you, I would have a bottle of good October by me. Shall I fet a cup of old ftingo at your elbow ? Sir GEORGE. I thank thee-we fhall do without it. GARDINER. Jobn, he seems a very good-natured man for a con jurer. BUTLER. I'll take this opportunity of enquiring after a bit of plate I have loft. I fancy, whilft he is in my Lady's pay, one may hedge in a question or two into the bargain. Sir, Sir, may I beg a word in your ear? Sir GEORGE. f What wouldst thou? B'U T BUTLER Sir, I know I need not tell you, that I loft one of my filver spoons laft week. Sir GEORGE. Marked with a fwan's neck. BUTLER. My Lady's creft! He knows every thing. [Afide.] How would your worship advise me to recover it again? Sir GEORGE Hum! BUTLER. What must I do to come at it? Sir GEORGE. Drink nothing but small-beer for a fortnight BUTLER. Small-beer! Rot-gut! Sir GEORGE. If thou drink'ft a fingle drop of ale before fifteen days are expired-it is as much as thy fpoon-is worth. BUTLER. I shall never recover it that way; I'll e'en buy a new one. COACHMAN. D'ye mind how they whisper? GARDINER. (Afide. I'll be hang'd if he be not asking him something about Nell. COACHMAN. I'll take this opportunity of putting a question to him about poor Dobbin: I fancy he could give me better counfel than the farrier. BUTLE R. [to the Gardiner.] A prodigious man! he knows every thing: Now is the time to find thy pick-ax. GARDINER. I have nothing to give him: Does not he expect to have his hand croffed with filver ? COACH COACHMAN. [to Sir George.]; Sir, may a man venture to ask you a question? Afk it. COACHMAN. I have a poor horfe in the ftable that's bewitchedSir GEORGE. COACH MAN. To a day. (Afide.) Now, Sir, I would know whether the poor beaft is bewitched by goody Crouch or goody Flye? Then it must be goody Gurton? for she is the next old woman in the parish. GARDINER. Haft thou done, Robin? COACHMAN. (to the Gardiner.) He can tell thee any thing. GARDINER. (to Sir George.) Sir I would beg to take you a little further out of hearing Sir GEORGE. Speak. GARDINER. T The butler and I, Mr. Doctor, were both of us in love at the fame time with a certain person. |
