THE DRUMMER. ACT I., SCENE I. A great Hall. ENTER THE BUTLER, COACHMAN, AND GARDENER, BUTLER. THERE came another coach to town last night, that brought a gentleman to enquire about this strange noise we hear in the house. This spirit will bring a If so be he conpower of custom to the George tinues his pranks, I design to sell a pot of ale, and set up the sign of the drum. COACHMAN. I'll give Madam warning, that's flat-I've always liv'd in sober families. I'll not disparage myself to be a servant in a house that is haunted. GARDENER. I'll e'en marry Nell, and rent a bit of ground of my own, if both of you leave Madam; not but Madam's a very good woman-if Mrs. Abigail did not spoil her-Come, here's her health. BUTLER. It's a very hard thing to be a butler in a house that is disturb'd. He made such a racket in the cellar last night, that I'm afraid he'll sour all the beer in my barrels. COACHMAN. Why then, John, we ought to take it off as fast as we can. Here's to you-He rattled so loud under the tiles last night, that I verily thought the house would have fallen over our heads. I durst not go up into the cock-loft this morning, if I had not got one of the maids to go along with me. GARDENER. I thought I heard him in one of my bed-postsI marvel, John, how he gets into the house when all the gates are shut BUTLER. Why, look ye, Peter, your spirit will creep you into an augre-hole:-he'll whisk you through a key-hole, without so much as justling against one of the wards. COACHMAN. Poor Madam is mainly frighted, that's certain; and verily believes it is my master that was kill'd in the last campaign. BUTLER. Out of all manner of question, Robin, 'tis Sir George: Mrs. Abigail is of opinion it can be none but his honour: he always lov'd the wars; and you know was mightily pleas'd from a child with the music of a drum. GARDENER. I wonder his body was never found after the battle. BUTLER. Found! why, you fool, is not his body here about the house? Dost thou think he can beat his drum without hands and arms? COACHMAN. 'Tis Master, as sure as I stand here alive; and I verily believe I saw him last night in the town-close. GARDENER. Ay! how did he appear? COACHMAN. Like a white horse. BUTLER. Pho, Robin, I tell you he has never appear'd yet but in the shape of the sound of a drum. COACHMAN. This makes one almost afraid of one's own shadow. As I was walking from the stable t'other night, without my lanthern, I fell across a beam that lay in my way, and faith my heart was in my mouth-I thought I had stumbled over a spirit. BUTLER. Thou might'st as well have stumbled over a straw. Why a spirit is such a little thing, that I have heard a man, who was a great scholar, say, that he'll dance a Lancashire hornpipe upon the point of a needleAs I sat in the pantry last night counting my spoons, the candle methought burnt blue, and the spay'd bitch look'd as if she saw something. COACHMAN. Ay, poor cur! she's almost frighten'd out of her wits. GARDENER. Ay, I warrant ye, she hears him many a time and often when we don't. BUTLER. My lady must have him laid, that's certain, whatever it cost her: GARDENER. I fancy, when one goes to market, one might hear of somebody that can make a spell. COACHMAN. Why may not the parson of our parish lay him? BUTLER. No, no, no; our parson cannot lay him. COACHMAN. Why not he as well as another man? BUTLER. Why, ye fool, he is not qualified He has not taken the oaths. GARDENER. Why, d'ye think, John, that the spirit would take the law of him?Faith, I could tell you one way to drive him off. COACHMAN. How's that? GARDENER.. -I fancy Mrs. I'll tell you immediately [drinks] -I Abigail might scold him out of the house. COACHMAN. Ay, she has a tongue that would drown his drum, if any thing could. BUTLER. Pugh, this is all froth; you understand nothing of the matter――The next time it makes a noise, I tell you what ought to be done, steward speak Latin to it. COACHMAN. -I would have the Ay, that would do, if the steward had but courage? GARDENER. If I had There you have it He's a fearful man. as much learning as he, and I met the ghost, I'd tell him his own! but, alack, what can one of us poor men do with a spirit, that can neither write nor read? BUTLER. Thou art always cracking and boasting, Peter; thou dost not know what mischief it might do thee, if such a silly dog as thee should offer to speak to it. For ought I know, he might flay thee alive, and make parchment of thy skin to cover his drum with. GARDENER. A fiddle-stick! tell not me-I fear nothing; not I! I never did harm in my life; I never committed murder. BUTLER. I verily believe thee: keep thy temper, Peter; after supper we'll drink each of us a double mug, and then let come what will. GARDENER. Why, that's well said, John, an honest man that is |