Care. Two notable charging red-coats. Ruth. As I live, my heart is at my mouth. Care. Pr'ythee, let it come to thy lips, that I may kiss it. What have you in your lap? Řuth. The ladder of ropes.-How, in the name of wonder, got you hither? Care. Why, I had the ladder of ropes, and came down by it. Blunt. Then the mistake is plainer; 'twas I that sent the soldier with the ropes. Ruth. What an escape was this! Come, let's lose no time; here's no place to explain matters in. Care. I will stay to tell thee I shall never deserve thee. Ruth. Tell me so when you have had me a little while. Come, follow me; put on your plainest garb; not like a dancing-master, with your toes out. Come along. [RUTH pulls their hats over their eyes.] Hang down your head, as if you wanted pay.-So. [Exeunt. Enter Mr DAY, Mrs DAY, and Mrs CHAT. Mrs Day. Are you sure of this, neighbour Chat? Mrs Chat. I'm as sure of it as I am that I have a nose to my face. Mrs Day. Is my Mr Day. Ay! is my— Mrs Day. You may give one leave, methinks, to ask out one question.-Is my daughter Ruth with her? Mrs Chat. She was not when I saw Mrs Arbella last. I have not been so often at your honour's house, but that I know Mrs Arbella, the rich heiress, that Mr Abel was to have had, good gentleman, if he has his due. They never suspected me; for I used to buy things of my neighbour Story before she married the lieutenant; and stepping in to see Mrs Story, that now is, my neighbour Wishwell, that was, I saw, as I told you, this very Mrs Arbella; and I warrant Mrs Ruth is not far off. Mrs Day. Let me advise then, husband. Mr Day. Do, good duck; I'll warrant 'emMrs Day. You'll warrant, when I have done the business. Mr Day. I mean so, duck. Mrs Day. Well! pray spare your meaning too. First, then, we'll go ourselves in person to this Story's house, and in the mean time send Abel for soldiers; and when he has brought the soldiers, let them stay at the door, and come up himself; and then, if fair means will not do, foul shall. Mr Day. Excellent! well advised, sweet duck. Ah! let thee alone.-Be gone, Abel, and observe thy mother's directions. Remember the place.We'll be reveng❜d for robbing us, and for all their tricks. Abel. I shall perform it. Mrs Day. Come along, neighbour, and shew us the best way; and by and by we shall have news from Obadiah, who is gone to give the other colonel's gaoler a double charge, to keep the wild youth close. Come, husband, let's hasten. -Mrs Chat, the state shall know what good service you have done. Mrs Chat. I thank your honour. [Exeunt. Enter ARBELLA and Lieutenant. Lieu. Pray, madam, weep no more! spare your tears till you know they have miscarried. Arb. 'Tis a woman, sir, that weeps: we want men's reasons, and their courage to practise with. Lieu. Look up, madam, and meet your unexpected joys! Enter RUTH, Colonel CARELESS, and Colonel BLUNT. Arb. Oh, my dear friend! my dear, dear Ruth! Care. Pray, none of these phlegmatic bugs. There, take your colonel:-my captain and 1 can hug afresh every minute. Ruth. When did we hug last, good soldier? Care. I have done nothing but hug thee in fancy, ever since you, Ruth, turn'd Annice. Arb. You are welcome, sir. I cannot deny I shar'd in all your danger. Lieu. If she had deny'd it, colonel, I would have betrayed her. Blunt. I know not what to say, nor how to tell how dearly, how well—I love you. Arb. Now, cann't I say I love him; yet I have a mind to tell him too. Ruth. Keep't in, and choke yourself, or get the rising of the lights. Arb. What shall I say? Ruth. Say something, or he'll vanish. Blunt. D'ye not believe I love you? or cann't you love me?—Not a word.—Could you but Arb. No more; I'll save you the labour of courtship, which should be too tedious to all plain and honest natures. It is enough; I know you love me. Blunt. Or may I perish whilst I am swearing it. Enter 'Prentice. Lieu. How now, Jack? Care. That is, with myrmidons.-Come, good Anne, no more delay; fall on. Ruth. Then, before the furious Abel approaches, with his red-coats, who, perhaps, are now march 'Pren. O, master, undone! Here's Mr Daying under the conduct of that expert captain in the committee-man, and his fierce wife, come into the shop. Mrs Chat brought them in, and they say they will come up :-they know that Mrs Arbella and their daughter Ruth are here. Deny 'em, if you dare, they say. Lieu. Go down, boy, and tell 'em I am coming to'em. [Exit' Prentice.] This pure jade, my neighbour Chat, has betrayed us. What shall I do? I warrant the rascal has soldiers at his heels.--I think I could help the colonels out at a back-door. Blunt. I'd die rather by my Arbella. Now, you shall see I love you. Care. Nor will I, Charles, forsake you, Annice. Ruth. Come, be cheerful; I'll defend you all against the assaults of Captain Day and Major-general Day, his new drawn-up wife. Give me my ammunition,-[To ARBELLA] the papers, woman. So, if I do not rout 'em, fall on; let's all die together, and make no more graves but one. Blunt. 'Slife! I love her now, for all she has jeer'd me so. Ruth. Go fetch him in, lieutenant. [Exit Lieu tenant.] Stand you all drawn up as my reserveso-I for the forlorn hope. Care. That we had Teague here, to quarrel with the female triumphing Day, whilst I threw the male Day out of the window! Hark, I hear the troop marching; I know the she Day's stamp, among the tramples of a regiment. Arb. They come, wench; charge 'em bravely; I'll second thee with a volley. Ruth. They'll not stand the first charge; fear not:-now the Day breaks. Care. Would 'twere his neck were broke. Enter Mr DAY and Mrs DAY. Mrs Day. Ah ha! my fine runaways, have I found you? What, you think my husband's honour lives without intelligence. Marry, come up! Mr Day. My duck tells you how 'tis-WeMrs Day. Why, then, let your duck tell 'em how 'tis.-Yet, as I was saying, you shall perceive we abound in intelligence, else 'twere not for us to go about to keep the nation quiet:-but if you, Mrs. Arbella, will deliver up what you have stolen, and submit, and return with us, and this ungracious Ruth Ruth. Anne, if you please. Mrs Day. Who gave you that name, pray? Ruth. My godfathers and godmothers :-on, forsooth; I can answer a leaf farther. Mr Day. Duck, good duck, a word: I do not like this name Annice. weighty matters, know, the articles of our treaty are only these:-this Arbella will keep her estate, and not marry Abel, but this gentleman; and I Anne, daughter to Sir Basil Thoroughgood, and not Ruth, as has been thought, have taken my own estate, together with this gentleman, for better for worse. We were modest, though thieves; only plundered our own. Mrs Day. Yes, gentlewoman, you took something else, and that my husband can prove it may cost you your necks, if you do not submit. Ruth. Truth on't is, we did take something else. Mrs Day. Oh! did you so so? Ruth. Pray give me leave to speak one word in private with my father Day. Mr Day. Do so, do so: are you going to compound? Oh! 'tis father Day now! Ruth. D'ye hear, sir? how long is it since you have practised physic? [Takes him aside. Mr Day. Physic! what d'ye mean? Ruth. I mean physic.-Look ye, here's a small prescription of yours. D'ye know this hand-writing? Mr Day. I am undone. Ruth. Here's another, upon the same subject. This young one, I believe, came into this wicked world for want of your preventing dose; it will not be taken now neither. It seems your wenches are wilful; nay, I do not wonder to see 'em have more conscience than you have. Mr Day. Peace, good Mrs Anne! I am undone, if you betray me. Enter ABEL; goes to his Father. Abel. The soldiers are come. Mr Day. Go and send 'em away, Abel; here's no need, no need, now. Mrs Day. Are the soldiers come, Abel? Abel. Yes, but my father biddeth me send them away. Mr Day. No, not without your opinion, duck; but since they have but their own, I think, duck, if we were all friends Mrs Day. O! are you at your ifs again!—d'you think they shall make a fool of me, though they make an ass of you?-Call 'em up, Abel, if they will not submit; call up the soldiers, Abel. Ruth. Why, your fierce honour shall know the business that makes the wise Mr Day inclinable to friendship. Mr Duy. Nay, good sweetheart, come, I pray let us be friends. Mrs Day. You are ever in a fright, with a Mrs Day. How's this! What, am I not fit te shrivell'd heart of your own.-Well, gentlewo-be trusted now? Have you built your credit and reputation upon my counsel and labours, and am not fit now to be trusted? Mr Day. Nay, good sweet duck, I confess I owe all to thy wisdom. Good gentlemen, persuade my duck that we may be all friends. Care. Hark you, good Gillian Day, be not so fierce upon the husband of thy bosom :-'twas but a small start of frailty: say it were a wench, or so! Ruth. As I live, he has hit upon't by chance. Now we shall have sport. [Aside. Mrs Day. How, a wench, a wench! out upon the hypocrite. A wench! was not I sufficient? A wench!-I'll be reveng'd; let him be ashamed, if he will.-Call the soldiers, Abel. Care. Stay, good Abel; march not off so hastily. Arb. Soft, gentle Abel, or I'll discover you are in bonds; you shall never be releas'd if you move a step. Ruth. D'ye hear, Mrs Day, be not so furious; hold your peace; you may divulge your husband's shame, if you are so simple, and cast him out of authority, nay, and have him tried for his life :read this. Remember too, I know of your bribery and cheating, and something else: you guess. Be friends, and forgive one another. Here's a letter counterfeited from the king, to bestow preferment upon Mr Day if he would turn honest; by which means, I suppose, you cozen'd your brother cheats; in which he was to remember his service to you. I believe 'twas your inditing. You are the committee-man. 'Tis your best way (nay, never demur) to kiss, and be friends. Now, if you can contrive handsomely to cozen those that cozen all the world, and get these gentlemen to come by their estates easily, and without taking the covenant, the old sum of five hundred pounds, that I used to talk of, shall be yours yet. Mrs Day. We will endeavour. Ruth. Come, Mrs Arbella, pray let's all be friends. Arb. With all my heart. Care. No, good Teague, there's no need of thy message now :-But why dost thou lead Obadiah thus? Teague. Well, I will hang him presently, that I will. Look you here, Mrs Tay; here's your man Obadiah, do you see? he would not let me make him drunk, so I did take him in this string, and I am going to choke him by the throat. Blunt. Honest Teague, thy master is beholden to thee, in some measure, for his liberty. Care. Teague, I shall requite thy honesty. Teague. Well, shall I hang him then? It is a rogue, now, who would not be drunk for the king. Ob. I do beseech you, gentlemen, let me not be brought unto death. Teague. You shall be brought to the gallows, you thief o' the world. Care. No, poor Teague, 'tis enough; we are all friends. Come, let him go. Teague. Are you all friends? Then, here, little Obid, take the string, and go and hang yourself. Care. D'ye hear, my friend; [To the Musician] are any of your companions with you? Mus. Yes, sir. Care. As I live, we'll all dance; it shall be the celebration of our weddings. Nay, Mr Day, as we hope to continue friends, you and your duck shall trip it too. Teague. Ay, by my shoul will we: Obadiah shall be my woman too, and you shall dance for the king, that you shall. Care. Go, and strike up then :-no chiding now, Mrs Day. Come, you must not be refractory for once. Mrs Day. Well, husband, since these gentlemen will have it so, and that they may perceive we are friends, dance. Blunt. Now, Mr Day, to your business; get Ruth. Brother Abel, the bird is flown; but you it done as soon as you will, the five hundred shall be released from your bonds. pounds shall be ready. Care. So, friends:-thanks, honest Teague; thou shalt flourish in a new livery for this. Now, Mrs Annice, I hope you and I may agree about kissing, and compound every way. Now, Mr Day, If you will have good luck in every thing, Turn cavalier, and cry, God bless the king. [Exeunt omnes. THE REHEARSAL. BY GEORGE, DUKE OF BUCKING HAM. PROLOGUE. WE might well call this short mock-play of ours, | Now, critics, do your worst, that here are met; SCENE I. JOHNSON and SMITH. ACT I. John. Honest Frank! I am glad to see thee with all my heart. How long hast thou been in town? Smi. Faith, not above an hour: and, if I had not met you here, I had gone to look you out; for I long to talk with you freely, of all the strange new things we have heard in the country. John. And, by my troth, I have long'd as much to laugh with you, at all the impertinent, dull, fantastical things, we are tir'd out with here. Smi. Dull and fantastic! that's an excellent composition.-Pray, what are our men of business doing? John. I ne'er enquire after 'em. Thou knowest my humour lies another way. I love to please myself as much, and to trouble others as little as I can; and therefore do naturally avoid the company of those solemn fops, who, being incapable of reason, and insensible of wit and pleasure, are always looking grave, and troubling one another, in hopes to be thought men of business. Smi. Indeed I have ever observ'd that your grave lookers are the dullest of men. John. Ay, and of birds and beasts too: Your gravest bird is an owl, and your gravest beast is an ass. Smi. Well; but how dost thou pass thy time? John. Why, as I use to do; eat, drink as well as I can, have a she-friend to be private with in the afternoon, and sometimes see a play; where there are such things, Frank! such hideous, monstrous things, that it has almost made me forswear the stage, and resolve to apply myself to the solid nonsense of your men of business, as the more ingenious pastime. Smi. I have heard, indeed, you have had lately many new plays; and our country wits commend 'em. John. Ay, so do some of our city wits too; but they are of the new kind of wits. Smi. New kind! what kind is that? John. Why, your virtuosi, your civil persons, your drolls; fellows that scorn to imitate nature, but are given altogether to elevate and surprise. Smi. Elevate and surprise! pr'ythee make me understand the meaning of that. John. Nay, by my troth; that's a hard matter; I don't understand that myself:-'Tis a phrase they have got among them, to express their no meaning by. I'll tell you, as near as I can, what it is. Let me see:-'tis fighting, loving, sleeping, rhyming, dying, dancing, singing, crying, and every thing, but thinking and sense. Mr BAYES passes over the Stage. Bayes. Your most obsequious and most observant very humble servant, sir. John. Gad so! this is an author: I'll go fetch him to you. Smi. No, pr'ythee let him alone. John. Nay, by the Lord, I'll have him.[Goes after him. Here he is; I have caught him.-Pray, sir, now, for my sake, will you do a favour to this friend of mine? Bayes. Sir, it is not within my small capacity to do favours, but receive 'em, especially from a person that does wear the honourable title you are pleas'd to impose, sir, upon this- -Sweet sir, your servant. Smi. Your humble servant, sir. John. But wilt thou do me a favour, now? John. Why, to tell him the meaning of thy last play. Bayes. How, sir, the meaning? Do you mean the plot? John. Ay, ay; any thing. Bayes. Faith, sir, the intrigo's now quite out of my head; but I have a new one in my pocket, that I may say is a virgin; 't has never yet been blown upon. I must tell you one thing.-'Tis all new wit, and, though I say it, a better than my last; and you know well enough how that took. In fine, it shall read, and write, and act, and plot, and shew, ay, and pit, box, and gallery, 'egad, with any play in Europe. This morning is its last rehearsal, in their habits, and all that, as it is to be acted; and if you and your friend will do it but the honour to see it in its virgin attire, though, perhaps, it may blush, I shall not be asham'd to discover its nakedness unto you-I think it is in this pocket. [Puts his hand in his pocket. John. Sir, I confess I am not able to answer you in this new way; but if you please to lead, I shall be glad to follow you; and I hope my friend will do so too. Smi. Sir, I have no business so considerable as should keep me from your company. Bayes. Yes, here it is. No, cry you mercy! This is my book of Drama Common-places; the mother of many other plays. John. Drama Common-places! Pray what's that? Bayes. Why, sir, some certain helps, that we men of art have found it convenient to make use of. Smi. How, sir, helps for wit? Bayes. Ay, sir, that's my position. And I do here aver, that no man yet the sun e'er shone upon has parts sufficient to furnish out a stage, except it were by the help of these my rules. John. What are those rules, I pray? Bayes. Why, sir, my first rule is the rule of transversion, or regula duplex; changing verse into prose, or prose into verse, alternative, as you please. |