not quite sober, has nothing to fear-Here's to ye Why, how if he should come this minute, here would I stand. Ha! what noise is that?

BUTLER AND COACHMAN,

Ha! where?

GARDENER.

The devil! the devil! Oh, no; 'tis Mrs. Abigail.

BUTLER.

Ay, faith! 'tis she; 'tis Mrs. Abigail! a good mistake! 'tis Mrs. Abigail.

ENTER ABIGAIL.

ABIGAIL.

Here are your drunken sots for you! Is this a time to be guzzling, when gentry are come to the house! Why don't you lay your cloth? How come you out of the stables? Why are not you at work in your garden?

GARDENER.

Why, yonder's the fine Londoner and Madam fetching a walk together; and methought they look'd as if they should say they had rather have my room than my company.

BUTLER.

And so, forsooth, being all three met together, we are doing our endeavours to drink this same drummer out of our heads.

GARDENER.

For you must know, Mrs. Abigail, we are all of opinion that one can't be a match for him, unless one be as drunk as a drum.

COACHMAN.

I am resolv'd to give Madam warning, to hire herself another coachman; for I came to serve my master, d'ye see, while he was alive, but do suppose that he has no farther occasion for a coach, now he walks.

BUTLER,

Truly, Mrs. Abigail, I must needs say, that this same spirit is a very odd sort of a body, after all, to fright Madam and his old servants at this rate.

GARDENER.

And, truly, Mrs. Abigail, I must needs say, I serv'd my master contentedly, while he was living; but I will serve no man living (that is, no man that is not living) without double wages.

ABIGAIL.

Ay, 'tis such cowards as you that go about with idle stories, to disgrace the house, and bring so many strangers about it: you first frighten yourselves, and then your neighbours.

GARDENER.

Frighten'd! I scorn your words. Frighten’d, quoth-a!

ABIGAIL.

What, you sot! are you grown pot-valiant?

GARDENER.

Frighten'd with a drum! that's a good one! It will do us no harm, I'll answer for it: it will bring no bloodshed along with it, take my word. It sounds as like a train-band drum as ever I heard in my life.

BUTLER.

Prithee, Peter, don't be so presumptuous.

ABIGAIL.:

Well, these drunken rogues take it as I could wish. [Aside.

GARDENER.

I scorn to be frighten'd, now I'm in for't; if old Dub-a-dub should come into the room, I would take

him

BUTLER.

Prithee hold thy tongue.

I would take him

GARDENER,

[The Drum beats, the Gardener endeavours to get off, and falls.

BUTLER AND COACHMAN.

Speak to it Mrs. Abigail.

GARDENER.

Spare my life, and take all I have.

COACHMAN.

Make off, make off, good butler; and let us go hide ourselves in the cellar.

[They all run off.

ABIGAIL sola.

ABIGAIL.

So now the coast is clear, I may venture to call out my drummer But first let me shut the door, lest we be surpris'd. Mr. Fantome! Mr. Fantome! [he beats.] Nay, nay, pray come out; the enemy's fled I must speak with you immediately--Don't stay to beat a parley.

[The back scene opens, and discovers Fantome with a drym.

FANTOME.

Dear Mrs. Nabby, I have overheard all that has been said, and find thou hast manag'd this thing so well, that I could take thee in my arms, and kiss thee If my drum did not stand in my way.

ABIGAIL.

Well, o' my conscience, you are the merriest ghost! and the very picture of Sir George Truman.

FANTOME.

There you flatter me, Mrs. Abigail: Sir George had that freshness in his looks that we men of the town cannot come up to.

ABIGAIL.

Oh! death may have alter'd you, you knowBesides, you must consider you lost a great deal of blood in the battle.

FANTOME.

Ay, that's right; let me look never so pale, this cut cross my forehead will keep me in countenance.

ABIGAIL.

'Tis just such a one as my master receiv'd from a cursed French trooper, as my lady's letter inform'd her.

FANTOME.

It happens luckily that this suit of clothes of Sir George's fits me so well I think I can't fail hitting the air of a man with whom I was so long acquainted.

ABIGAIL.

You are the very man-I vow I almost start when I look upon you.

FANTOME.

But what good will this do me, if I must remain invisible?

ABIGAIL.

Pray what good did your being visible do you? The fair Mr. Fantome thought no woman could withstand him-But when you were seen by my lady in your proper person, after she had taken a full survey of you, and heard all the pretty things you could say, she very civilly dismissed you, for the sake of this empty, noisy creature, Tinsel. She fancies you have been gone from hence this fortnight.

FANTOME.

Why, really, I love thy lady so well, that though I had no hopes of gaining her for myself, I could not bear to see her given to another, especially such a wretch as Tinsel.

ABIGAIL.

Well, tell me truly, Mr. Fantome, have not you a great opinion of my fidelity to my dear lady, that I would not suffer her to be deluded in this manner for less than a thousand pound?

FANTOME.

Thou art always reminding me of my promiseThou shalt have it, if thou canst bring our project to bear: dost not thou know that stories of ghosts and and apparitions generally end in a pot of money.

ABIGAIL.

Why, truly now Mr. Fantome, I should think myself a very bad woman, if I had done what I do for a farthing less.