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Mon. Barn. How so? how so?

Col. Why, a large and steately stag, with a pair of horns on his head, Heaven bless you, your worship might be seen to wear 'em, comes towards our geat a puffing and blawing like a cow in hard labour. Now, says I to myself, says I, if my measter refuse to let this fine youth come in, why, then, he's a fool d'ye see.-So I opens him the geat, pulls off my hat with both my honds, and said, You're welcome, kind sir, to our house.

Mon. Barn. Well, well!

Col. Well, well, ay, and so it is well, as you shall straightway find. - So in he trots, and makes directly towards our barn, and goes bounce, bounce, against the door, as boldly as if he had been measter on't he turns'en about and thawcks'n down in the stra, as who would say, Here will I lay me till to-morrow morning.-But he had no fool to deal with for to the kitchen goes I, and takes me down a musket, and, with a breace of balls, I hits'n such a slap in the feace, that he ne'er spoke a word more to me.-Have I done well or no, measter?

:

Mon. Barn. Yes, you have done very well for

once.

hunting all this morning, they're now gone up to your wife's chamber.

Mon. Barn. The devil go with 'em!

Mon. Griff. There's but one way to get rid of this plague, and that is, as I told you before, to set your house on fire.

Mon. Barn. That's doing myself an injury, not them.

Mon. Griff. There's dogs, horses, masters, and servants, all intend to stay here till to-morrow morning, that they may be near the woods to hunt the earlier :-besides (I overheard them) they're in a kind of plot against you.

Mon. Barn. What did they say?

Mon. Griff. You'll be angry if I should tell ye. Mon. Barn. Can I be more angry than I am? Mon. Griff. They said, then, that it was the greatest pleasure in the world to ruin an old lawyer in the country, who had got an estate by ruining honest people in town.

Mon. Barn. There's rogues for ye!

Mon. Griff. I'm mistaken if they don't play you some trick or other.

Mon. Barn. Hold, let me consider.

Mon. Griff. What are you doing?

Col. But this was not all, for a parcel of dogs came yelping after their companion, as I suppose; so I Mon. Barn. I'm conceiving, I shall bring forth goes to the back-yard door, and, as many as came presently. Oh, I have it! it comes from hence, by, shu says I, and drove 'em into the gearden; wit was its father, and invention its mother; if I so there they are as safe as in a pawnd-ha! ha!—had thought on't sooner, I should have been happy. But I can't but think what a power of pasties we shall have at our house, ha! ha!

[Exit.

Mon. Barn. I see Providence takes some care of me this could never have happened in a better time.

Enter Cook.

Cook. Sir, sir, in the name of wonder, what do you mean? is it by your orders that all those dogs were let into the garden?

Mon. Barn. How!

Cook. I believe there's forty or fifty dogs tearing up the lettuce and cabbage by the root; I believe before they have done, they'll rout up the whole garden.

Mon. Griff. What is it?

Mon. Barn. Come, come along, I say; you must help me to put it in execution.

Enter LISETTA.

Lis. Sir, my mistress desires you to walk up; she is not able, by herself, to pay the civilities due to so much good company.

Mon. Barn. O the carrion! What, does she play her jests upon me too?-but, mum, he laughs best that laughs last.

Lis. What shall I tell her, sir, will you come?
Mon. Barn. Yes, yes, tell her I'll come, with a
pox to her!
[Exit with Monsieur GRIFFARD.
Lis. Nay, I don't wonder he should be angry :

Mon. Barn. This is that rogue's doings.
Cook. This was not all, sir, for three or four of they do try his patience, that's the truth on't.

'em came into the kitchen, and tore half the meat
off the spit that was for your worship's supper.

Mon. Barn. The very dogs plague me! Cook. And then there's a crew of hungry footmen who devoured what the dogs left, so that there's not a bit left for your worship's supper; not a scrap, not one morsel, sir.

[Exit. Mon. Barn. Sure I shall hit on some way to get rid of this crew.

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Enter MARIAMNE.

What, madam, have you left your mother and the company?

Mar. So much tittle tattle makes my head ache; I don't wonder my father should not love the country, for besides the expense he's at, he never enjoys a minute's quiet.

Lis. But let's talk of your own affairs: -have you writ to your lover?

Mar. No, for I have not had time since I saw him.

Lis. Now you have time then, about it immediately, for he's a sort of a desperate spark, and a body does not know what he may do if he should not hear from you. Besides you promised him, and you must behave yourself like a woman of honour, and keep your word.

Mar. I'll about it this minute.

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haps I have something to say to her that will make her laugh. Why sure! what need you care?

Mar. Don't snub my cousin Charly.-Well, what is't?

Char. Who do you think I met as I was coming here, but that handsome gentleman I've seen at church ogle you like any devil?

Mar. Hush, softly, cousin.

Lis. Not a word of that for your life.

Char. Oh, I know, I should not speak on't before folks; you know I made signs to you above, that I wanted to speak to you in private, didn't I, cousin? Mar. Yes, yes, I saw you.

Char. You see I can keep a secret.-I am no girl, mun. I believe I could tell ye fifty, and fifty to that, of my sister Cicely.-Oh, she's the devil of a girl!-but she gives me money and sugarplums and those that are kind to me fare the better for it, you see, cousin.

Mar. I always said my cousin Charly was a good-natured boy.

Lis. Well, and did he know you?

Char. Yes, I think he did know me-for he took me in his arms, and did so hug me and kiss me!-Between you and I, cousin, I believe he is one of the best friends I have in the world.

Mar. Well, but what did he say to you? Char. Why, he asked me where I was going; I told him I was coming to see you; You're a lying young rogue, says he, I'm sure you dare not go see your cousin -for you must know my sister was with me, and it seems he took her for a crack, and I being a forward boy, he fancied I was going to make love to her under a hedge, ha! ha!

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Char. No, for he had a mind, you must know, to win his louis-d'or back again; so he laid me another that I dare not come back and tell you that he was there; so, cousin, I hope you won't let me lose, for if you don't go to him and tell him that I've won, he won't pay me.

Mar. What, would you have me go and speak to a man?

Char. Not for any harm, but to win your poor cousin a louis-d'or. I'm sure you will-for you're a modest young woman, and may go without danger.

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Col. Thou and I live at the Sword Royal, ha! ha! Lis. I'll go tell my mistress of her father's extravagance. [Exit.

Re-enter Monsieur BARNARD and Monsieur GRIFFARD. Mon. Barn. Ha! ha! yes I think this will do. -Sirrah, Colin, you may now let in all the world; the more the better.

Col. Yes, sir.-Odsflesh! we shall break all the inns in the country:-for we have a breave handsome landlady, and a curious young lass to her daughter.-Oh, here comes my young measter.We'll make him chamberlain-ha! ha!

Enter DORANT.

Mon. Barn. What's the matter, son? How comes it that you are all alone? You used to do me the favour to bring some of your friends along with ye.

Dor. Sir, there are some of 'em coming; I only rid before to beg you to give 'em a favourable reception.

Mon. Barn. Ay, why not? It is both for your honour and mine; you shall be master.

Dor. Sir, we have now an opportunity of making all the gentlemen in the country our friends. Mon. Barn. I'm glad on't with all my heart; pray how so?

Dor. There's an old quarrel to be made up between two families, and all the company are to meet at our house.

Mon. Barn. Ay, with all my heart; but pray what is the quarrel?

Dor. O, sir, a very ancient quarrel; it happened between their great grandfathers about a duck. Mon. Barn. quarrel of consequence truly! Dor. And 'twill be a great honour to us if this should be accommodated at our house. Mon. Burn. Without doubt.

Dor. Dear sir, you astonish me with this goodness; how shall I express this obligation? I was afraid, sir, you would not like it.

Mon. Barn. Why so?

Dor. I thought, sir, you did not care for the expense.

Mon. Barn. O Lord, I am the most altered man in the world from what I was, I'm quite another thing, mun! But how many are there of 'em? Dor. Not above nine or ten of a side, sir.

H H

Mon. Barn. Oh, we shall dispose of them easily enough.

Dr. Sorne of 'em will be here presently; the rest I don't expect till to-morrow morning.

Mon. Barn. I hope they're good companions, Jolly fellows, that love to eat and drink well?

Dor. The merriest, best-natured creatures in the world, sir.

Mon. Barn. I'm very glad on't, for 'tis such men I want.-Come, brother, you and I will go and prepare for their reception.

[Exit with Monsieur GRIFFARD. Dor. Bless me, what an alteration is here! How my father's temper is changed within these two or three days! Do you know the meaning of it?

Col. Why the meaning on't is, ha! ha!

Dor. Can you tell me the cause of this sudden change, I say?

Col. Why the cause on't is, ha ha!-

Dor. What do you laugh at, sirrah? do you know?

Col. Ha!-Because the old gentleman's a droll, that's all.

Dor. Sirrah, if I take the cudgelCol. Nay, sir, don't be angry for a little harmless mirth. But here are your friends.

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Trof. This house ought to have been mine; for my grandfather sold it to his father, from whom your father purchased it.

Dor. Yes, the house has gone through a great many hands.

La Gar. A sign there has always been good housekeeping in it.

Dor. And I hope there ever will.

Re-enter Monsieur BARNARD and Monsieur GRIFFARD, dressed like Drawers.

Mon. Barn. Gentlemen, do you call ? will you please to see a room, gentlemen ?-Somebody take off the gentlemen's boots there.

Dor. Father! uncle! what is the meaning of this?

Mon. Barn. Here, show a room.-Or will you please to walk into the kitchen first, gentlemen, and see what you like for dinner.

La Gar. Make no preparation, sir; your own dinner is sufficient.

Mon. Barn. Very well, I understand ye. Let's see, how many are there of ye? - [Counting them.] One, two, three, four : well, gentlemen, 'tis but half-a-crown_a-piece for yourselves, and sixpence a head for your servants; your dinner shall be ready in half an hour. Here, show the gentlemen into the Apollo.

La Rose. What, sir, does your father keep an inn?

Mon. Barn. The Sword Royal, at your service, sir.

Dor. But, father, let me speak to you; would you disgrace me?

Mon. Barn. My wine is very good, gentlemen, but, to be very plain with ye, it is dear. Dor. Oh, I shall run distracted!

Mon. Barn. You seem not to like my honse, gentlemen ; you may try all the inns in the county, and not be better entertained; but I own my bills run high.

ye.

Dor. Gentlemen, let me beg the favour of

La Gar. Ay, my young squire of the Sword Royal, you shall receive some favours from us! Dor. Dear Monsieur La Garantière !

La Gar. Here, my horse there!
Dor. Monsieur La Rose !
La Rose. Damn ye, ye prig!
Dor. Monsieur Trofignac !
Trof. Go to the devil!

[Ereunt Messieurs LA GARANTIERE, LA ROSE, and
TROFIGNAC.

Dor. Oh, I'm disgraced for ever!

Mon. Barn. Now, son, this will teach you how to live.

Dor. Your son! I deny the kindred; I'm the son of a whore, and I'll burn your house about your ears, you old rogue you! [Exit.

Mon. Barn. Ha! ha!

Mon. Griff. The young gentleman's in a passion. Mon. Barn. They're all gone for all that, and the Sword-Royal's the best general in Christendom. Enter ERASTUS's Servant talking with LISETTA. Lis. What, that tall gentleman I saw in the garden with ye?

Serv. The same, he's my master's uncle, and ranger of the king's forests. He intends to leave my master all he has.

Mon. Barn. Don't I know this scoundrel ? What, is his master here!-What do you do here, rascal ?

Serv. I was asking which must be my master's chamber.

Mon. Barn. Where is your master?

Serv. Above stairs with your wife and daughter; and I want to know where he's to lie, that I may put up his things.

Mon. Barn. Do you so, rascal?

Serv. A very handsome inn this.-Here, drawer, fetch me a pint of wine.

Mon. Barn. Take that, rascal; do you banter [Kicks him out.

us?

Enter Madame BARNARD.

Mad. Barn. What is the meaning of this, busband? Are not you ashamed to turn your house into an inn?-and is this a dress for my spouse, and a man of your character?

Mon. Barn. I'd rather wear this dress than be ruined.

Mad. Barn. You're nearer being so than you imagine; for there are some persons within who have it in their power to punish you for your ridiculous folly.

Enter ERASTUS, leading in MARIANNE, Mon. Barn. How, sir, what means this ? who sent you here?

Erast. It was the luckiest star in your firma. ment that sent me here.

Mon. Barn. Then I doubt, at my birth, the begin to do the honours of it in your own perplanets were but in a scurvy disposition.

Erast. Killing one of the king's stags, that run hither for refuge, is enough to overturn a fortune much better established than yours. However, sir, if you will consent to give me your daughter, for her sake I will bear you harmless.

Mon. Barn. No, sir; no man shall have my daughter, that won't take my house too.

Erast. Sir, I will take your house; pay you the full value of it, and you shall remain as much master of it as ever.

Mon. Barn. No, sir, that won't do neither; you must be master yourself, and from this minute

son.

Erast. Sir, I readily consent.

Mon. Barn. Upon that condition, and in order to get rid of my house, here, take my daughter.And now, sir, if you think you've a hard bargain, I don't care if I toss you in my wife, to make you amends.

Well, then since all things thus are fairly sped,
My son in anger, and my daughter wed;
My house disposed of, the sole cause of strife,
I now may hope to lead a happy life,
If I can part with my engaging wife.

[Exeunt omnes.

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SCENE I.-A Room in UNCLE RICHARD'S

House.

Enter UNCI.E RICHARD.

Unc. Rich. What prudent cares does this deep foreseeing nation take for the support of its worshipful fami ies! In order to which, and that they may not fail to be always significant and useful in their country, it is a settled foundation-point that every child that is born shall be a beggar, except one; and that he-shall be a fool. My grandfather was bred a fool, as the country report; my father was & tool, as my mother used to say; my brother was a fool, to my own knowledge, though a great justice of the peace; and he has left a son that will make his son a fool, or I am mistaken. The lad is now fourteen years old, and but just out of his Psalter. As to his honoured father, my muchesteemed nephew-here I have him.-[Takes out a letter.] In this profound epistle (which I have just now received) there is the top and bottom of him. Forty years and two is the age of him; in which it is computed, by his butler, his own person has drank two-and-thirty tun of ale. The rest of his time has been employed in persecuting all the poor four-legged creatures round that would but run away fast enough from him, to give him the high-mettied pleasure of running after them. In this noble employ he has broke his right arm, his

left leg, and both his collar-bones. Once he broke his neck, but that did him no harm; a nimble hedge-leaper, a brother of the stirrup, that was by, whipped off his horse and mended it. His estate being left him with two jointures and three weighty mortgages upon it, he, to make all easy, and pay his brother's and sister's portions, married a profuse young housewife for love, with never a penny of money. Having done all this, like his brave ancestors, for the support of the family, he now finds children and interest-money make such a bawling about his ears, that he has taken the friendly advice of his neighbour, the good lord Courtlove, to run his estate two thousand pounds more in debt, that he may retrieve his affairs by being a parliament-man, and bringing his wife to London to play off a hundred pounds at dice with ladies of quality before breakfast. But let me read this wiseacre's letter once over again.-[Reads.] Most honoured uncle, I do not doubt but you have much rejoiced at my success in my election. It has cost me some money, I own; but what of all that! I am a parliament-man, and that will set all to rights. I have lived in the country all my days, 'tis true; but what then! I have made speeches at the sessions, and in the vestry too, and can elsewhere, perhaps, as well as some others that do and I have a noble friend hard by, who has let mɩ into some small knowledge of what's what at Wes!

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