He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no | sick of the journey, and the cattle can scarce crawl. longer. What do I see? It is he, and perhaps with So if your own horses be ready, you may whip off news of my Constance. with cousin, and I'll be bound that no soul here can budge a foot to follow you. Enter TONY, booted and spattered. My honest squire! I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship. Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, by-the-by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage coach. Hast. But how? Where did you leave your fellow travellers? Are they in safety? Are they housed? Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours and a half, is no such bad driving. The poor beasts have smoked for it. Rabbit me, but I'd rather ride forty miles after a fox, than ten with such varment. Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies? I die with impatience. Tony. Left them! Why, where should them, but where I found them? Hast. This is a riddle. Tony. Riddle me this, then. round the house, and round the Pouches the house? leave What's that goes house, and never Hast. I'm still astray. Tony. Why, that's it, mon. I have led them astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough within five miles of the place, but they can tell the taste of. Hast. Ha ha! ha! I understand; you took them in a round, while they supposed themselves going forward, And so you have at last brought them home again. Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down Feather-bed-lane, where we stuck fast in the mud.I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up-anddown-hill-I then introduced them to the gibbet on Heavy-tree-heath,-and from that, with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodg'd them in the horsepond at the bottom of the garden. Hast. But no accident, I hope. Tony. No, no. Only mother is confoundedly frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. She's Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grateful? Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend, noble squire. Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me through the guts. Damn your way of fighting, I say. After we take a knock in this part of the country, we shake hands and be friends. But if you had run me through the guts, then I should be dead, and you might go shake hands with the hangman. Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten to relieve Miss Neville! if you keep the old lady employed, I promise to take care of the young one. [Exit. Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish! She's got into the pond, and is draggled up to the waist like a mermaid. Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. H. Oh, Tony, I'm kill'd! Shook! Battered to death! I shall never survive it. That last jolt that laid us against the quickset-hedge has done my busi ness. Tony. Alack, mamma, it was all your own fault. You would be for running away by night, without knowing one inch of the way. Mrs. H. I wish we were at home again. I never met SO many accidents in so short a journey. Drench'd in the mud, overturn'd in a ditch, stuck fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose our way. Whereabouts do you think we are, Tony? Tony. By my guess we should be upon Črackskull common, about forty miles from home. Mrs. H. O lud! O lud! the most notorious spot in all the country. We only want a robbery to make a complete night on't. Tony. Don't be afraid, mamma, don't be afraid. Two of the five that kept here are hanged, and the other three may not find us. Don't be afraid. Is that a man that's galloping behind us? No; it's only a tree. Don't be afraid. Mrs. H. The fright will certainly kill me. and am resolved [raising his voice] to find the other Tony. Do you see any thing like a black hat mov-out. ing behind the thicket? Mrs. H. O death! Tony. No, it's only a cow. Don't be afraid, mamma! don't be afraid. Mrs. H. As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards us. Ah! I'm sure on't. If he perceives us we are undone. Toxy. Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come to take one of his night walks. [4side.] Ah, it's a highwayman, with pistols as long as my arm. A dainn'd ill looking fellow. Mrs. H Good heaven defend us! he approaches. Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and leave me to manage him. If there be any danger I'll cough and cry hem. When I cough be sure to keep close. [Mrs. II. hides behind a tree. Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of help. O, Tony, is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety? Tony. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. Hem. Mrs. H. [From behind] Ah, death! I find there's danger. Hard. Forty miles in three hours; sure, that's too much, my youngster. · Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make short journeys, as they say. Hem. Mrs. H. [From behind] Sure, he'll do the dear boy no harm. Hard. But I heard a voice here; I should be glad to know from whence it came? Tony. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was saying that forty miles in three hours was very good going. Hem. As to be sure it was. Hem. I have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in, if you please. Hem. Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did not answer yourself. I am certain I heard two voices, Mrs. H. [Running forward from behind] O lud, he'll murder my poor boy, my darling. Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life, but spare that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy. Hard. My wife! as I am a christian. From whence can she come, or what does she mean! Mrs. H. [Kneeling] Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice, indeed we won't, good Mr. Highwayman. Hard. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you know me? Mrs. H. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far from home?What has brought you to follow us? Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits. So far from home, when you are within forty yards of your own door. [To Tony] This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue you. [To Mrs. H.] Don't you know the gate and the mulbery-tree; and don't you remember the horsepond, my dear? Mrs. H. Yes, I shall remember the horsepond as long as I live; I have caught my death in it. [To Tony] And it is to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this. I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will. Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on't. Mrs. H. I'll spoil you, I will. [Beats him off. Hard. Ha ha! ha! [She Stoops to Conquer. CAPTAIN BEAUĢARD AND CALEB QUOTEM, Quo. Captain, your most obedient. Quo. My name, şir, is Caleb Quotem, at your service. My father was well known in this parish, and the country round, as the poet says-sexton and crier here, thirty years and upwards. By trade a plumber and glazier, to which I have added many others; as auctioneer, schoolmaster, engraver, watch-maker, | Quo. Grave making; turning up the fresh earth, sign-painter, &c. &c. Talking of signs puts me in you know, is healthy employ-I should like to dig mind of the zodiac.--You must know I am allowed your grave. Talking of grave-making, puts me in to possess some knowledge of the sciences; globes, mind of physic;-do you know, I dabble a little in terrestrial and celestial, telescopes, and household that way! furniture ;-understand all sorts of fixtures, magnets, marble slabs, polar stars, and corner cupboards. Beau. Damn the fellow !-he has travelled over both hemispheres, and now fixed himself in a corner cupboard! But pray, what may your business be with me, sir? Beau. Indeed! Quo. When none of the faculty are on the spot, neighbours call me in, being very near several patients-my house-churchyard. Beau. Churchyard!--Oh! very near your patients, I dare say. Quo. My business is that of my father's, as Shak- Quo. Ha! ha! come that's a good one-as man and speare says; but my reason for attending you is-boy, concerned in every thing, flimsy affairs, and talking of reason, puts me in mind of the man in weighty matters. How do you think I employ my Bedlam, who swore all mankind were mad, for they hours? A day, now, a summer's day, as Milton had locked him up, and he could not divine the says. cause; now this man, as the poet says, had "cool reason on his side." Talking of side, puts me in mind of myself I am beside myself that is, I threw myself beside you, to express how much I am your humble servant," as Dryden says. Beau. A mighty expressive sentence, truly, Mr. Quotem. Quo. Captain, I shall be happy to serve you on all occasions-I can inake or mend pumps, or windows, paint cupboards, or carriages, repair watches or weather-glasses-in short, (as a great author says,) "I'm up to every thing." Talking of every thing, I write ballads and epitaphs; cut tombstones and sell coffin furniture-shall be glad to serve you with any of the last articles at the lowest price, as the poet says. Beau. I can't guess, indeed. Quo. Morning, rise at five-father not up-ruo to church-ring bell---back to school-look over big boy's accounts-teach children catechism-breakfast at eight-swallow muffins-play tune-German flute, or fiddle-fright jackdaws from chickens-churchyard-dig graves till ten run to penfold-advertise strayed cattle-make out registers, marriage banus, and certificates, till eleven-home-scold wife-put on fire-away I go-round for prayers-help curate on with surplice- -run to school-whip boys' bottoms, back time enough to cry Amen.-Thus passes away my forenoon, as Congreve says. Beau. Forenoon! Zounds, man, you've done a day's work already. Quo. Talking of work-dine at one-go into shop, Bean. I hope I sha'nt trouble you for any of the pound rosin or rhubarb-same mortar- mix up balls last articles soon, Mr. Quotem ;-your town of Wind-of putty-box of pills-pint of paint-dose of jalap sor is very wholesome. Quo. The air is salubrious, and the fields look green, as Pope says. Yet somehow or other people drop away very speedily. mend sash or sideboard-repair sun-change moonblot out seven stars-squint at time-piece-put new wheel to watch, and weights to kitchen clock-sand to hour glass-main-spring to watch, or sucker to Beau. Why you seem the very picture of health. pump. Thus passes my time till four--burying, perQuo. That is chiefly owing to a part of my pro-haps-never out of the way-boys toll bells-at hand fession-or rather my father's profession, at which I always assist. Beau. What's that? to chime in-assist in the service-anthem from Job, Dust to dust"-go home and play at blindman's buff with boys till six. Beau. What a devil of a fellow is this! Dr. C. Ah! thou heavenly woman! Quo. At six, as the poet says, attend at the great They are indeed come to prodigious perfection in all room-auctioneer-knock down household goods-manufactures; how wonderful is human art! Here going, going, gone!-to my shop-cut tombstones-it disputes the prize with nature that all this soft write epitaphs, to amuse myself-set 'em to music-and gaudy lusture should be wrought from the labours feed hogs-coop hens-drive ducks from the pond-of a poor worm! sunset-night comes on-shut up shop, school, and Lady L. But our business, sir, is upon another vestry-night curfew-go home-chimney corner-subject: sir John informs me, that he thinks himself call my wife-stir fire-draw cork-smoke pipe- under no obligations to Mr. Darnley, and therefore quaff-crack joke-laugh-lie down-or, to make resolves to give his daughter to you. out time, "Wind up the clock," as Yorick says. Thus ends the history of a day. Beau. Thank heaven his day is done, as the poet says and here comes one to prevent his beginning another. Review. AN HYPOCRITE'S ATTEMPT TO SEDUCE HIS FRIEND'S Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL AND LADY LAMBERT. Dr. C. Such a thing has been mentioned, madam; but, to deal sincerely with you, that is not the happiness I sigh after; there is a soft and serious excellence for me, very different from what your stepdaughter possesses. Lady. L. Well, sir, pray be sincere and open your heart to me. Dr. C. Open my heart! can you then, sweet lady, be yet a stranger to it? Has no action of my life been able to inform you of my real thoughts? suppose Lady L. Well, sir, I take all this, as you intend it, for my good and spiritual welfare. Dr. C. Indeed I mean your cordial service. Lady L. I dare say you do: you are above the low, momentary views of this world. Dr. C. Well but, dear lady, ha! You can't conceive the joyousness I feel at this so much desired interview. Ah! ah! I have a thousand friendly things to say to you and how stands your precious Dr. C. Why, I should be so; and yet, alas! I find health? is your naughty cold abated yet? I have this mortal clothing of my soul is made like other scarce closed my eyes these two nights with my con-mens', of sensual flesh and blood, and has its frailties. cern for you. Lady L. Your charity is too far concerned for me. Dr. C. Ah! don't say so; don't say so; you merit more than mortal man can do for you. Lady L. Indeed you overrate me. Dr. C. I speak it from my heart: indeed, indeed, indeed I do. Lady L. O dear! you hurt my hand, sir. Dr. C. Impute it to my zeal, and want of words for expression: precious soul! I would not hurt you for the world: no, it would be the whole business of my life Lady L. But to the affair I would speak to you about. 2 & 3 Lady L. We all have those, but yours are well corrected by your divine and virtuous contemplations. Dr. C. Alas! madam, my heart is not of stone: I may resist, call all my prayers, my fastings, tears and penance to my aid; but yet, I am not an angel; I am still but a man; and virtue may strive, but nature will be uppermost. I love, you madam. Lady L. Ah, doctor, what have you done to me? the trouble of my mind is not to be expressed. You have indeed discovered to me what, perhaps, for my own peace 'twere better I had never been acquainted with, but I had not an opportunity to lay my heart open to you. Dr. C. Ah! do not endeavour to decoy my foolish Lady L. Call it not vain; my reputation is dearer to me than life. Dr. C. Where can it find so sure a guard? The grave austerities of my life will dumb-found suspicion, and yours may defy detraction. Lady L. Well, doctor, 'tis you must answer for my folly. Dr. C I take it all upon myself. me? Sir J. Your brother! I have been your friend, indeed, to my shame; your dupe; but your speil has lost its hold no more canting; it will not serve your turn any longer. Lady L. Now heaven be praised. Dr. C. It seems you wanted an excuse to part with me. Sir J. Ungrateful wretch! but why do I reproach you! Had I not been the weakest of mankind, you never could have proved so great a villain. Get out of my sight, leave my house: of all my follies, which is it tells you, that if you stay much longer, I shall not be tempted to wrest you out of the hands of the law and punish you as you deserve AFFECTIONATE COURTSHIP. BETTY, CHARLOTTE, and DR. CANTWELL. Bet. Doctor Cantwell desires to be admitted, madam. Char. Let him come in. Enter DOCTOR CANTWELL. Your servant, sir.-Give us chairs Betty, and leave the room.—[Exit Betty]-Sir, there's a seat--What can the ugly cur say to me ?-he seems a little puz zled. Hums a tune. Dr. C. Look ye, young lady, I am afraid, notwithstanding your good father's favour, I am not the man you would desire to be alone with upon this occasion. Char. Your modesty is pleased to be in the right. Dr. C. I'm afraid too, notwithstanding all my endeavours to the contrary, that you entertain a pretty Lady L. But there's one thing still to be afraid of. bad opinion of me. Dr. C. Nothing, nothing, Char. A worse, sir, of no mortal breathing. |