A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Comedy by P. Massinger. Acted at the Phoenix, Drury Lane 1653. This play is very deservedly commended in two copies of verses by Sir Henry Moody and Sir Thomas Jay: it is one of the best of the old comedies. The plot is good and well conducted, the language dramatic and nervous, and the characters, particularly that of Sir Giles Overreach, are highly and judiciously drawn. It was revived at Drury Lane Theatre in the year 1718, and several times since; but whether from any fault in the performance, or want of taste in the audience, it did not meet with that success which might have been expected from its merit, and which some of its contemporaries, not possessed of more, have since received on a revival. We are the more inclined to believe that the want of success must have arisen from the performers, as it was acted at Covent Garden, in 1781, in a manner that showed it was deserving of the utmost applause. Mr. Henderson's perfance of Sir Giles Over-reach, in particular, could not be too much commended. It was revived by Mr. Cooke, who, though he may have fallen short of his predecessor just mentioned, yet has sustained the part with credit, and he who has seen Kean in this character will not easily forget him.

My quondam master, was a man of worship:

SCENE I.-The Outside of a Village Ale-Bore the whole sway of the shire; kept a good

house.

Not the remainder of a single can,

Left by a drunken porter; all night pall'd too. Froth. Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir.

'Tis verity, I assure you. Well. Verity, you brach!

house;

Reliev'd the poor, and so forth; but he dying,
And the twelve hundred a year coming to you,
Late master Francis, but now forlorn Well-
born-

Well. Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.
Froth. Very hardly.

You cannot be out of your way.

Tap. You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant,

And I your under-butler: note the change now: The devil turn'd precisian? Rogue, what am I? You had a merry time of't. Hawks and hounds, Tap. Troth! durst I trust you with a looking-glass,

To let you see your trim shape, you would
quit me,
And take the name yourself.
Well. How! dog?

Tap. Even so, sir. Advance your Plymouth
cloak;

There dwells, and within call (if it please your
worship),

A potent monarch call'd the constable,
That does command a citadel call'd the stocks;
Such as with great dexterity will hale
Your poor tatter'd-

Well. Rascal! slave!
Froth. No rage, sir.

With choice of running horses; mistresses,
And other such extravagancies;
Which your uncle, sir Giles Overreach, ob-
serving,

Resolving not to lose so fair an opportunity,
On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds,
For awhile supplied your lavishness, and then
left you.

Well. Some curate has penn'd this invec-
tive, mongrel,
And you have studied it.

Tap. I have not done yet.
Your lands gone, and your credit not worth
a token,

You grew the common borrower; no man'scap'd
Your paper pellets, from the gentleman to the
groom;
While I, honest Tim Tapwell, with a little
stock,

Tap. At his own peril! Do not put yourself In too much heat, there being no water near To quench your thirst; and sure for other liquor, As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it, Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage, You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir. And humbled myself to marriage with my Well. Why, thou unthankful villain, dar'st

thou talk thus?

Froth here.

Well. Hear me, ungrateful hell-bound! did not l

Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?
Tap. I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Make purses for you? then you lick'd my boots,
And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to

Tapwell

Well. Am I not he

Does keep no other_register.

clean 'em.

'Twas I, that when I heard thee swear, if ever

Whose riots fed and cloth'd thee? Wert Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou

thou not

Born on my father's land, and proud to be
A drudge in his house?

Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not;
What
you are is apparent. Now for a farewell:
Since you talk of father, in my hope it will
torment you,
I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,
old sir John,

wouldst

That beggar themselves to make such rascals rich. There's such disparity in their conditions
Thou viper, thankless viper!

But since you are grown forgetful I will help
Your memory, and beat thee into remembrance;
Nor leave one bone unbroken. [Beats him.
Tap. Oh, oh, oh!
Froth. Help! help!

Enter ALLWORTH.

Allw. Hold, for my sake, hold!
Deny me, Frank? they are not worth your anger.
Well. For once thou hast redeem'd them
from this sceptre:
[Shaking his Cudgel.

But let 'em vanish;
For if they grumble, I revoke my pardon.
Froth. This comes of your prating, hus-
band; you presum'd

On your ambling wit, and must use your
glib tongue,
Though you are beaten lame for't.
Tup. Patience, Froth,

There's law to cure our bruises.

[Tapwell and Froth go into the House.
Well. Sent for to your mother?

Allo. My lady, Frank, my patroness! my all!
She's such a mourner for ny father's death,
And, in her love to him, so favours me,
That I cannot pay too much observance to her.
There are few such stepdames.

Well. 'Tis a noble widow,

And keeps her reputation pure, and clear
From the least taint of infamy; her life,
With the splendour of her actions, leaves no
tongue

To envy or detraction. Pr'ythee tell me,
Has she no suitors?

All. Even the best of the shire, Frank,
My lord excepted: such as sue and send,
And send and sue again; but to no purpose.
Yet she's so far from sullenness and pride,
That I dare undertake you shall meet from her
A liberal entertainment.

Well. I doubt it not.
Now, Allworth, better come and mark my
counsel. I am bound to give it;
Thy father was my friend; and that affection
1 bore to him, in right descends to thee:
Thou art a handsome and a hopeful youth;
Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee,
If I with any danger can prevent it.

All. I thank your noble care; but, pray
you, in what

Do I run the hazard?

Well. Art thou not in love? Put it not off with wonder.

All. In love, at my years?

Well. You think you walk in clouds, but are transparent.

I have heard all, and the choice that you
have made;

And, with my finger, can point out the north star,
By which the loadstone of your folly's guided.
And to confirm this true, what think you of
Fair Margaret, the only child and heir

Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start,
To bear her only nam'd? Blush at your want
Of wit and reason.

Allo. Howe'er you have discover'd my intents,
You know my aims are lawful; and if ever
The queen of flowers, the glory of the spring,
Sprung from an envious briar, I may infer,

Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter,
And the base churl her father.

Well. Grant this true,

As I believe it; canst thou ever hope
To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father
Ruin'd thy state?

Allw. And yours too.

Well. I confess it, Allworth.

I must tell you as a friend, and freely,
That, where impossibilities are apparent,
'Tis indiscretion to nourish hopes.
Or canst thou think (if self-love blind thee not)
That sir Giles Overreach (that to make her great
In swelling titles, without touch of conscience,
Will cut his neighbour's throat, and I hope
his own too)

Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er,
And think of some course suitable to thy rank,
And prosper in it.

Allw. You have well advised me.
But, in the mean time, you that are so studious
Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own.
Remember yourself, and in what plight you are.
Well. No matter, no matter.

Allw. Yes, 'tis much material:

You know my fortune and my means; yet
something

I can spare from myself, to help your wants.
Well. How's this?

Allw. Nay, be not angry.
Well. Money from thee?

From a boy, a stipendiary? one that lives
At the devotion of a stepmother,

And the uncertain favour of a lord?

I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind fortune
Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me;
Though I am vomited out of an alehouse,
And thus accoutred; know not where to eat,
Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this canopy;
Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer."
And as I, in my madness, broke my state
Without th' assistance of another's brain,
In my right wits I'll piece it; at the worst,
Die thus, and be forgotten.

Allw. A strange humour! [Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.-A Chamber in LADY ALLWORTH'S
House.

Enter ORDER, AMBLE, and FURNACE.
Order. Set all things right, or, as my name
is Order,
Whoever misses in his function,
For one whole week makes forfeiture of his
breakfast,

And privilege in the wine-cellar.
Amble. You are merry,

Good master steward.

Fur. Let him; I'll be angry.

Amble. Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve
o'clock yet,

Nor dinner taking up; then 'tis allow'd,
Cooks, by their places, may be choleric.
Fur. You think you have spoke wisely, good
man Amble,

My lady's go-before.
Order. Nay, nay, no wrangling.

Fur. Twit me with the authority of the
kitchen?

At all hours, and at all places, I'll be angry;
And, thus provok'd, when I am at my prayers
I will be angry.

Fur. I am friends with thee, and yet I will I will not force your will, but leave you free
be angry.
To your own election,
Order. With whom?

Fur. No matter whom: yet, now I think on't, I will put on: but, might I make my choice, I'm angry with my lady.

It never thrives. He holds this paradox,
"Who eats not well, can ne'er do justice well." To dare boldly
His stomach's as insatiate as the grave.

In a fair cause, and for the country's safety
[A Knocking. To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted;
To bear with patience the winter's cold,
And summer's scorching heat,

And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly]
welcome:

And if you please to stay, that you may think so,
There came not six days since from Hull, a pipe
Of rich Canary; which shall spend itself
For my lady's honour.

Just. G. Is it of the right race?
Order. Yes, Mr. Greedy.

Amble. How his mouth runs o'er! [Apart.
Fur. I'll make it run and run. [Apart] Save|
your good worship!

Just. G. Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand-again!
How I love thee!

Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.
Fur. If you have a mind to feed, there is
a chine

Of beef well season'd.

Just. G. Good.

Fur. A pheasant larded.
Just. G. That I might now give thanks for't!
Fur. Besides, there came last night, from
the forest of Sherwood,

The fattest stag I ever cook'd.

Just. G. A stag, man?
Fur. A stag, sir; part of it is prepar'd for
dinner,

And bak'd in puff-paste.

Just. G. Puff-paste too, sir Giles!

A pond'rous chine of beef! a pheasant larded!
And red deer too, sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-

paste!

All business set aside, let us give thanks here.
Sir G. You know we cannot.

Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,

-

Created only to make legs and cringe,
To carry in a dish and shift a trencher,
That have not souls only to hope a blessing
Beyond your master's leavings who advan-
ces? who
Shows me the way?
Order. Here comes my lady.
Enter LADY ALLWORTH.

Lady A. What noise is this?

Well. Madam, my designs bear me to you.
Lady A. To me?

Well. And though I have met with
But ragged entertainment from your grooms
here,

Mar. Your worships are to sit on a com-I hope from you to receive that noble usage, As may become the true friend of your husband;

mission,

And if you fail to come, you lose the cause.
Just. G. Cause me no causes: I'll prove't,
for such a dinner,

We may put off a commission; you shall find it
Henrici decimo quarto.

Sir G. Fie, Mr. Greedy,
Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a
dinner?

No more, for shame! We must forget the belly,
When we think of profit.

Just. G. Well, you shall overrule me.
I could ev'n cry now. Do you hear, master Cook?
Send but a corner of that immortal pasty,
And I in thankfulness will, by your boy,
Send you a brace of threepences.

Fur. Will you be so prodigal?
Sir G. Remember me to your lady.

Enter WELLBORN.

Who have we here?

Well. You know me.

Sir G. I did once, but now I will not;
Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar!

If ever thou presume to own me more,
I'll have thee cag'd and whipp'd.

Just. G. I'll grant the warrant.

Think of pie-corner, Furnace.

And then I shall forget these.

Lady A. I am amaz'd,
To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou
think,

Though sworn, that it can ever find belief,
That I, who to the best men of this country
Denied my presence since my husband's death,
Can fall so low as to change words with thee?

Well. Scorn me not, good lady;
But as in form you are angelical,
Imitate the heavenly natures, aud vouchsafe
At least awhile to hear me. You will grant
The blood that runs in this arm is as noble
As that which fills your veins. Your swelling

titles,

Equipage, and fortune; your men's observance,
And women's flattery, are in you no virtues;
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.
You have a fair fame, and I know deserve it;
Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more
Than in the pious sorrow you have shown
For your late noble husband.

[Aside.

Order. There he touch'd her.
Well. That husband, madam, was once in
his fortune

Almost as low as I. Want, debts, and quarrels,

[Exeunt Sir Giles Overreach, Justice Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought

Greedy, and Marrall.

Amble. Will you out, sir?

I wonder how you durst creep in.

Order. This is rudeness,

And saucy impudence.

Amble. Cannot you stay

[To Wellborn.

A boast in me, though I say I reliev'd him.
Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword
That did on all occasions second his;

I brought him on and off with honour, lady:
And when in all men's judgments he was sunk,
And in his own hopes not to be buoy'd up;
I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand,

To be serv'd among your fellows from the basket, And brought him to the shore.
But you must press into the hall?

Fur. Are not we base rogues

That could forget this?
Well. I confess you made him

you for't:

[Aside. Mar. Your worship has the way on't, and
ne'er miss

Master of your estate; nor could your friends, To squeeze these unthrifts into air; and yet
Though he brought no wealth with him, blame The chop-fall'n justice did his part, returning
For your advantage the certificate,
Against his conscience and his knowledge too
(With your good favour), to the utter ruin
Of the poor farmer.

For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind
Made up of all parts, either great or noble;
So winning a behaviour, not to be
Resisted, madam.

Lady A. 'Tis most true, he had.

Well. For his sake then, in that I was his Do not contemn me.

Sir G. 'Twas for these good ends

I made him a justice. He that bribes his belly,
Is certain to command his soul.

[friend, Mar. I wonder

Lady A. For what's past excuse me;
I will redeem it. [Offers him her Pocket-book.
Well. Madam, on no terms:

I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you;
But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever.
Only one suit I make: pray give me leave.
[Lady Allworth signs to the Servants to retire.
I will not tire your patience with relation
Of the bad arts my uncle Overreach
Still forg'd, to strip me of my fair possessions;
Nor how he shuts the door upon my want.
Would you but vouchsafe,

To your dead husband's friend, such feigned
As might beget opinion in sir Giles [grace
Of a true passion toward me, you would see
In the mere thought to prey on me again
He'd turn my friend,

Quit all my owings, set me truly forth,
And furnish'd well with gold; which I should use,
I trust, to your no shame, lady, but live
Ever a debtor to your gentleness,
Lady A. What, nothing else?
Well. Nothing, unless you please to charge
your servants

To throw away a little respect upon me,
Lady A. What you demand is yours.
Respect this gentleman as 'twere myself.
[To the Servants.
Adieu, dear master Wellborn;
Pray let me see you with your oft'nest means.
Well. Your honour's servant.

[Kisses her Hand. Exit Lady Allworth.
Now what can be wrought out of such a suit
Is yet in supposition. [Servants bow] Nay,
all's forgotten;
And for a lucky omen to my project,
Shake hands, and end all quarrels in the cellar.
Order. Agreed, agreed.

Fur. Still merry, Mr. Wellborn?
[Exeunt Servants.
Well. Well, faith, a right worthy and a
liberal lady,

Why, your worship having
The power to put this thin gut in commission,
You are not in't yourself.

Sir G. Thou art a fool;

In being out of office I am out of danger;
Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble,
I might, or out of wilfulness or error,
Run myself finely into a premunire;
And so become a prey to the informer.
No, I'll have none oft: 'tis enough I keep
Greedy at my devotion: so he serve
My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not;
Friendship is but a word.

Mar. You are all wisdom.

Sir G. I would be worldly wise; for the
other wisdom,

That does prescribe us a well-govern'd life,
And to do right to others as ourselves,
I value not an atom,

Mar. What course take you
(With your good patience), to hedge in the

manor

Of your good neighbour, Mr. Frugal? As 'tis said,

He will nor sell, nor borrow, nor exchange; And his land lying in the midst of your many lordships,

is a foul blemish.

Sir G. I have thought on't, Marrall,
And it shall take. I must have all men sellers,
And I the only purchaser.

Mar. 'Tis most fit, sir.

Sir G. I'll therefore buy some cottage near his manor;

Which done, I'll make my men break ope'
his fences,

Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the right
Set fire to his barns, or break his cattle's legs.
These trespasses draw on suits, and suits
expenses;

Which I can spare, but will soon beggar him.
When I have harried him thus two or three
years,

hand.

Who can at once so kindly meet my purposes,|
And brave the flouts of censure, to redeem Though he sue forma pauperis, in spite
Her husband's friend! When by this honest plot Of all his thrift and care, he'll grow behind-
The world believes she means to heal my wants
With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor
Will be struck mute, and I be left at large
To practise on my uncle Overreach.
Here I may work the measure, to redeem
My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripp'd me of
When youth and dissipation quell'd my reason.
The fancy pleases-if the plot succeed,
Tis a new way to pay old debts indeed. [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I-A Landscape.
Enter SIR GILES OVERREACH and MARRALL.
Sir G. He's gone, I warrant thee; this com-
mission crush'd him.

I

Mar. The best I ever heard. I could adore you.
Sir G. Then, with the favour of my man of law,
will pretend some title; want will force him
To put it to arbitrement; then, if he sell
For half the value, he shall have ready money,
And I possess the land.

Mar. Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not
These fine arts, sir, to hook him in.
Sir G. Well thought on.
This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long to up-
braid me
With my close cheat put upon him. Will

not cold

Nor hunger kill him?