TINSEL. Why, faith, I have been looking upon this house,

and think it is the prettiest habitation I ever saw in

LADY. Ay, but then this cruel drum!

TINSEL. Something so venerable in it!
LADY. Ay, but the drum!

my life.

TINSEL. For my part, I like this Gothic way of building better than any of your new orders-it would be a thousand pities it should fall to ruin.

LADY. Ay, but the drum!

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!

TINSEL. My dear, take my word for't 'tis all fancy: besides, should he drum in thy very bed-chamber, I should only hug thee the closer.

Clasp'd in the folds of love, I'd meet my doom,
And act my joys, tho' thunder shook the room.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Scene opens, and discovers Vellum in his Office, and a Letter in his Hand.

VELLUM. This letter astonisheth; may I believe my own eyes or rather my spectacles To Humphry Vellum, Esq., Steward to the Lady Truman.'

'VELLUM,

'I doubt not but you will be glad to hear your master is

alive, and designs to be with you in half an hour. The report of my being slain in the Netherlands, has, I find, produced some disorders in my family. I am now at the George Inn. If an old man with a grey beard, in a black cloak, inquires after you, give him admittance, he passes for a conjurer, but is, really, 'Your faithful friend,

'G. TRUMAN.'

'P. S. Let this be a secret, and you shall find your account in it.'

This amazeth me! and yet the reasons why I should believe he is still living, are manifold-First, because this has often been the case of other 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.

Fourthly

Enter BUTLer.

BUTLER. Sir, here's a strange old gentleman that asks for you; he says he's a conjurer, but he looks very suspicious; I wish he ben't a Jesuit.

VELLUM. Admit him immediately.

BUTLER. I wish he ben't a Jesuit; but he says he's nothing but a conjurer.

VELLUM. He says right-He is no more than a conjurer. Bring him in and withdraw.

And, Fourthly, As I was saying, because-

[Exit Butler.

Enter BUTLER with SIR GEORGE.

BUTLER. Sir, here is the conjurer-what a devilish long

beard he has! I warrant it has been growing these hundred years.

[Aside. Exit. SIR GEORGE. Dear Vellum, you have receiv'd my letter: but before we proceed lock the door.

VELLUM. It is his voice.

[Shuts the door.

SIR GEORGE. In the next place help me off with this cumbersome cloak.

VELLUM. It is his shape.

SIR GEORGE. So, now lay my beard upon the table.

VELLUM (After having looked on Sir George through his spectacles). It is his face, every lineament!

SIR GEORGE. Well, now I have put off the conjurer and the old man, I can talk to thee more at my ease.

VELLUM. Believe me, my good master, I am as much rejoiced to see you alive, as I was upon the day you were born. Your name was, in all the news-papers, in the list of those that were slain.

SIR GEORGE. We have not time to be particular. I shall only tell thee in general, that I was taken prisoner in the battle, and was under close confinement for several months. Upon my release, I was resolved to surprise my wife with the news of my being alive. I know, Vellum, you are a person of so much penetration, that I need not use any further arguments to convince you that I am so.

VELLUM. I am-and, moreover, I question not but your good lady will likewise be convinced of it. Her ho-nour is a discerning lady.

SIR GEORGE.

I'm only afraid she should be convinced of it to her sorrow. Is not she pleas'd with her imaginary widowhood? Tell me truly, was she afflicted at the report of my death?

VELLUM. Sorely.

SIR GEORGE. How long did her grief last?

VELLUM. Longer than I have known any widow's-at least three days.

SIR GEORGE. Three days, say'st thou? three whole days? I'm afraid thou flatterest me !-O woman! woman!

VELLUM. There is a real grief, and there is a methodical grief; she was drowned in tears till such a time as the tailor had made her widow's weeds-Indeed they became her.

SIR GEORGE. Became her! and was that her comfort? Truly, a most seasonable consolation !

VELLUM. But, I must needs say, she paid a due regard to your memory, and could not forbear weeping when she saw company.

SIR GEORGE.

That was kind indeed! I find she griev'd with a great deal of good breeding. But how comes this gang of lovers

as virtuous in your absence as a Penelope

SIR GEORGE. And has had as many suitors.
VELLUM. Several have made their overtures.
SIR GEORGE.

Several!

VELLUM. But she has rejected all.

SIR GEORGE. There thou reviv'st me-but what means this

Tinsel? Are his visits acceptable?

VELLUM. He is young.

SIR GEORGE. Sure she could never entertain a thought of marrying such a coxcomb!

VELLUM. He is not ill made.

SIR GEORGE. Are the vows and protestations that pass'd be tween us come to this! I can't bear the thought of it! Is Tinsel the man design'd for my worthy successor?

VELLUM.

You do not consider that you have been dead

these fourteen months

SIR GEORGE. Was there ever such a dog?

[Aside.

VELLUM. And I have often heard her say, that she must never expect to find a second Sir George Truman-meaning your ho-nour.

SIR GEORGE. I think she lov'd me; but I must search into this story of the Drummer before I discover myself to her. I have put on this habit of a conjurer, in order to introduce myself. It must be your business to recommend me, as a most profound person, that by my great knowledge in the curious arts, can silence the Drummer, and dispossess the house.

VELLUM. I am going to lay my accounts before my lady, and I will endeavour to prevail upon her ho-nour to admit the trial of your art.

SIR GEORGE. I have scarce heard of any of these stories that did not arise from a love intrigue-Amours raise as many ghosts as murders.

VELLUM. Mrs. Abigal endeavours to persuade us, that 'tis your ho-nour who troubles the house.

SIR GEORGE. That convinces me 'tis a cheat, for, I think, Vellum, I may be pretty well assured it is not me.

VELLUM. I am apt to think so, truly. Ha-ha-ha!

SIR GEORGE. Abigal had always an ascendant over her lady,