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ACT THE FIRST.

than to apprehend with difficulty the stale jests of us thy compeers. When was't ever known to

club thy own particular jest among us? SCENE-A Servants' Apartment in Woodvil Hall. Servants

Mar. Most unkind Daniel, to speak such biting drinking-Time, the Morning.

things of me! A Song, by DANIEL.

Fran. See--if he hath not brought tears into

the poor fellow's eyes with the saltness of his “ When the King enjoys his own again."

rebuke. Peter. A delicate song. Where didst learn it, Dan. No offence, brother Martin-I meant fellow?

none. 'Tis true, Heaven gives gifts, and with. Dan. Even there, where thou learnest thy holds them. It has been pleased to bestow upon oaths and thy politics—at our master's table.— me a nimble invention to the manufacture of a Where else should a serving-man pick up his jest; and upon thee, Martin, an indifferent bad poor accomplishments ?

capacity to understand my meaning. Mar. Well spoken, Daniel. O rare Daniel ! Mar. Is that all? I am content. Here's my his oaths and his politics ! excellent !

hand. Fran. And where didst pick up thy knavery, Fran. Well, I like a little innocent mirth Daniel ?

myself, but never could endure bawdry. Peter. That came to him by inheritance. His Dan. Quot homines tot sententiæ. family have supplied the shire of Devon, time Mar. And what is that ! out of mind, with good thieves and bad serving Dan. 'Tis Greek, and argues difference of

All of his race have come into the world opinion. without their conscience.

Mar. I hope there is none between us. Mar. Good thieves, and bad serving-men ! Dan. Here's to thee, brother Martin. (Drinks.) Better and better. I marvel what Daniel hath Mar. And to thee, Daniel. (Drinks.) got to say in reply.

Pran. And to thee, Peter. (Drinks.) Dan. I marvel more when thou wilt say any Peter. Thank you, Francis. And here's to thing to the purpose, thou shallow serving-man, thee. (Drinks.) whose swiftest conceit carries thee no higher

Mar. I shall be fuddled anon.

men.

Dan. And drunkenness I hold to be a very Pran. Well, I have my suspicions. despicable vice.

Peter. And so have I.
All. O! a shocking vice. (They drink round.) Mar. And I can keep a secret.

Peter. In as much as it taketh away the Pran. (to PETER.) Warwickshire, you mean. understanding.

(Aside Dan. And makes the eyes red.

Peter. Perhaps not. Peter. And the tongue to stammer.

Pran. Nearer, perhaps. Dan. And to blab out secrets.

Peter. I say nothing. (During this conversation they continue drinking.

Dan. I hope there is none in this company Peer. Some men do not know an enemy from would be mean enough to betray him. a friend when they are drunk.

AU. O Lord surely not.

[They drink to Sie WALTER's safety. Dan. Certainly sobriety is the health of the soul.

Pran. I have often wondered how our master Mar. Now I know I am going to be drunk. came to be excepted by name in the late Act of Dan. How canst tell, dry-bones ?

Oblivion. Mar. Because I begin to be melancholy.

Dun. Shall I tell the reason ? That's always a sign.

AU, Ay, do. Fran. Take care of Martin, he'll topple off his

Dan. 'Tis thought he is no great friend to the seat else.

[Martin drops asleep. present happy establishment, Peter. Times are greatly altered, since young

All O! monstrous ! master took upon himself the government of

Peter. Fellow servants, a thought strikes me. this household.

-Do we, or do we not, come under the penalties AU. Greatly altered.

of the treason-act, by reason of our being privy Fran. I think every thing be altered for the to this man's concealment ? better since His Majesty's blessed restoration.

All. Truly a sad consideration. Peter. In Sir Walter's days there was no

To them enters SANDFORD suddenly. encouragement given to good house-keeping. AU, None.

Sand. You well-fed and unprofitable grooms, Dan. For instance, no possibility of getting Maintain'd for state, not use; drunk before two in the afternoon.

You lazy feasters at another's cost, Peter. Every man his allowance of alo at break. That eat like maggots into an estate, fast—his quart!

And do as little work, All. A quart ! !

(In derision.) Being indeed but foul excrescences, Dan. Nothing left to our own sweet discretions. And no just parts in a well-order'd family ;

Peter. Whereby it may appear, we were treated You base and rascal imitators, more like beasts than what we were—discreet Who act up to the height your master's vices, and reasonable serving-men.

But cannot read his virtues in your bond : AU. Like beasts.

Which of you, as I enter'd, spake of betraying? Mar. (Opening his eyes.) Like beasts.

Was it you, or you, or thin-face, was it you? Dan. To sleep, wagtail !

Mar. Whom does he call thin-face? Pran. I marvel all this while where the old Sand. No prating, loon, but tell me who be gentleman has found means to secrete himself. was, It seems no man has heard of him since the day That I may brain the villain with my staff, of the King's return. Can any tell why our That seeks Sir Walter's life! young master, being favoured by the court, You miserable men, should not have interest to procure his father's With minds more slavish than your slave's estate, pardon ?

Have you that noble bounty so forgot, Dan. Marry, I think 'tis the obstinacy of the Which took you from the looms, and from the old Knight, that will not be beholden to the ploughs, court for his safety.

Which better had ye follow'd, fed ye, clothed ye, Mar. Now that is wilful.

And entertain'd ye in a worthy service, Fran. But can any tell me the place of his Where your best wages was the world's repute, concealment?

That thus ye seek his life, by whom ye live. Peter. That cannot I; but I have my con- Have you forgot too, jectures.

How often in old times Dan. Two hundred pounds, as I hear, to the Your drunken mirths have stunn'd day's sober man that shall apprehend him.

ears,

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Carousing full cups to Sir Walter's health & Enquire the times and seasons when to put
Whom now ye would betray, but that he lies My peevish prayer up at young Woodvil's feet,
Out of the reach of your poor treacheries. And sue to him for slow redress, who was
This learn from me,

Himself a suitor late to Margaret.
Our master's secret sleeps with trustier tongues, I am somewhat proud : and Woodvil taught me
Than will unlock themselves to carls like you. pride.
Go, get you gone, you knaves. Who stirs ? this I was his favourite once, his playfellow in infancy,
staff

And joyful mistress of his youth. Shall teach you better manners else.

None once so pleasant in his eyes as Margareto All. Well, we are going.

His conscience, his religion, Margaret was, Sand. And quickly too, ye had better, for I see His dear heart's confessor, a heart within that Young mistress Margaret coming this way.

heart, [Exeunt all but SANDFORD. And all dear things summ'd up in her alone.

As Margaret smild or frown'd John liv'd or Enter MARGARET, as in a fright, pursued by a Gentleman, died; who, seeing SANDFORD, retires muttering a curse.

His dress, speech, gesture, studies, friendships, Sand. Good morrow to my fair mistress. 'Twas a chance

Being fashion'd to her liking. I saw you, lady, so intent was I

His flatteries taught me first this self-esteem, On chiding hence these graceless serving-men,

His flatteries and caresses, while he loved. Who cannot break their fast at morning meals

The world esteem'd her happy, who had won Without debauch and mis-timed riotings.

His heart, who won all hearts; This house hath been a scene of nothing else

And ladies envied me the love of Woodvil. But atheist riot and profane excess,

Sand. He doth affect the courtier's life too Since my old master quitted all his rights here.

much, Marg. Each day I endure fresh insult from the Whose art is to forget,

And that has wrought this seeming change in Of Woodvil's friends, the uncivil jests

him, And free discourses of the dissolute men

That was by nature noble. That haunt this mansion, making me their 'Tis these court-plagues, that swarm about our mirth.

house, Sand. Does my young master know of these Have done the mischief, making his fancy giddy affronts ?

With images of state, preferment, place, Marg. I cannot tell. Perhaps he has not been Tainting his generous spirits with ambition. told.

Marg. I know not how it is; Perhaps he might have seen them if he would. A cold protector is John grown to me. I have known him more quick-sighted. Let that The mistress, and presumptive wife, of Woodvil pass.

Can never stoop so low to supplicate All things seem changed, I think. I had a A man, her equal, to redress those wrongs, friend,

Which he was bound first to prevent; (I can't but weep to think him alter'd too,) But which his own neglects have sanction'd These things are best forgotten; but I knew

rather, A man, a young man, young, and full of Both sanction'd and provok'd : a mark'd neglect, honour,

And strangeness fastening bitter on his love, That would have pick'd a quarrel for a straw,

His love, which long has been upon the wane. And fought it out to the extremity,

For me, I am determined what to do: E'en with the dearest friend he had alive, To leave this house this night, and lukewarm On but a bare surmise, a possibility,

John, That Margaret had suffer'd an affront.

And trust for food to the earth and Providence. Some are too tame, that were too splenetic Sand. O lady, have a care

Of these indefinite and spleen-bred resolves. Sand. 'Twere best he should be told of these You know not half the dangers that attend affronts.

Upon a life of wand'ring, which your thoughts Marg. I am the daughter of his father's friend, now, Sir Walter's orphan ward.

Feeling the swellings of a lofty anger, I am not his servant maid, that I should wait To your abused fancy, as 'tis likely, The opportunity of a gracious hearing,

Portray without its terrors, painting lies

once.

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shelters you.

And representments of fallacious liberty For then I'll bid this house and love farewell : You know not what it is to leave the roof that Farewell, sweet Devon; farewell, lukewarm

John; Marg. I have thought on every possible event, For with the morning's light will Margaret be The dangers and discouragements you speak of, gone. Even till my woman's heart hath ceased to fear Thanks, courteous Mr. Sandford. them,

[Ezount divers says, And cowardice grows enamour'd of rare accidents; Nor am I so unfurnish'd, as you think, Of practicable schemes. Sand. Now God forbid; think twice of this, dear lady.

ACT THE SECOND
Marg. I pray you spare me, Mr. Sandford.
And once for all believe, nothing can shake my

SCENE.-An Apartment in Woodvil Hall. purpose.

John WOODVIL-alone. (Reading parts of a letter.) Sand. But what course have you thought on? Marg. To seek Sir Walter in the forest of “WHEN Love grows cold, and indifference has Sherwood.

usurped upon old Esteem, it is no marvel if the I have letters from young Simon,

world begin to account that dependence, which Acquainting me with all the circumstances hitherto has been esteemed honourable shelter. Of their concealment, place, and manner of life, The course I have taken, (in leaving this house, And the merry hours they spend in the green not easily wrought thereunto,) seemed to me best haunts

for the once-for-all releasing of yourself (who in Of Sherwood, nigh which place they have ta'en a times past have deserved well of me) from the house

now daily, and not-to-be-endured tribute of In the town of Nottingham, and pass for forced love, and ill-dissembled reluctance of foreigners,

affection.

MARGARET." Wearing the dress of Frenchmen.All which I have perused with so attent Gone ! gone ! my girl? so hasty, Margaret ! And child-like longings, that to my doting ears And never a kiss at parting ? shallow loves, Two sounds now seem like one,

And likings of a ten days' growth, use courtesies, One meaning in two words, Sherwood and And show red eyes at parting. Who bids Liberty.

“Farewell" And, gentle Mr. Sandford,

In the same tone he cries “God speed you, 'Tis you that must provide now

sir?" The means of my departure, which for safety Or tells of joyful victories at sea, Must be in boy's apparel.

Where he hath ventures; does not rather Sand. Since you will have it so

muffle
(My careful age trembles at all may happen), His organs to emit a leaden sound,
I will engage to furnish you.

To suit the melancholy dull “ farewell,"
I have the keys of the wardrobe, and can fit you Which they in Heaven not use ?-
With garments to your size.

So peevish, Margaret ?
I know a suit

But 'tis the common error of your sex Of lively Lincoln green, that shall much grace When our idolatry slackens, or grows less, you

(As who of woman born can keep his faculty In the wear, being glossy fresh, and worn but Of Admiration, being a decaying faculty, seldom.

For ever strain’d to the pitch? or can at Young Stephen Woodvil wore them while he pleasure lived.

Make it renewable, as some appetites are, I have the keys of all this house and passages, As, namely, Hunger, Thirst !) this being the And ere day-break will rise and let you forth.

case, What things soe'er you have need of I can furnish They tax us with neglect, and love grown cold, you;

Coin plainings of the perfidy of men,
And will provide a horse and trusty guide,

Which into maxims pass, and apothegms
To bear you on your way to Nottingham. To be retail'd in ballads.-
Marg. That once this day and night were

I know them all. fairly past !

They are jealous, when our larger hearts receive

men.

man?

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More guests than one. (Love in a woman's a malady incident to young men; physicians heart

call it caprice. Nothing else. He that slighted Being all in one) For me, I am sure I have her knew her value : and 'tis odds, but, for thy room here

sake, Margaret, Job will yet go to his grave a For more disturbers of my sleep than one. bachelor. (A noise heard, as of one drunk and singing. Love shall have part, but love shall not have Lovel. Here comes one, that will quickly dissiall.

pate these humours. Ambition, Pleasure, Vanity, all by turns,

Enter one drunk. Shall lie in my bed, and keep me fresh and waking;

Drunken Man. Good-morrow to you, gentleYet Love not be excluded.--Foolish wench,

Mr. Lovel, I am your humble servant. I could have loved her twenty years to come,

Honest Jack Woodvil, I will get drunk with you
And still have kept my liking. But since 'tis so,

to-morrow.
Why, fare thee well, old play-fellow! I'll try Wood. And why tomorrow, honest Mr. Free-
To squeeze a tear for old acquaintance' sake.
I shall not grudge so much.-

Drunken Man. I scent a traitor in that question.

A beastly question. Is it not his Majesty's birth-
To him enters LOVEL.

dny? the day of all days in the year, on which Lovel. Bless us, Woodvil ! what is the matter? King Charles the Second was graciously pleased I protest, man, I thought you had been weeping. to be born. (Sings.) “Great pity 'tis such days

Wood. Nothing is the matter; only the wench as those should come but once a year.” has forced some water into my eyes, which will Lovel. Drunk in a morning! foh! how he quickly disband.

stinks! Lovel. I cannot conceive you.

Drunken Man. And why not drunk in a Wood. Margaret is flown.

morning ? canst tell, bully? Lovel. Upon what pretence ?

Wood. Because, being the sweet and tender Wood. Neglect on my part: which it seems infancy of the day, methinks, it should ill endure she has had the wit to discover, maugre all my such early blightings. pains to conceal it.

Drunken Man. I grant you, 'tis in some sort Lovel. Then, you confess the charge ?

the youth and tender nonage of the day. Youth Wood. To say the truth, my love for her has is bashful, and I give it a cup to encourage it. of late stopped short on this side idolatry. (Sings.) “ Ale that will make Grimalkin prate.”—

Lovel. As all good Christians' should, I think. At noon I drink for thirst, at night for fellow

Wood. I am sure, I could have loved her still ship, but, above all, I love to usher in the bashful within the limits of warrantable love.

morning under the auspices of a freshening stoop Lovel. A kind of brotherly affection, I take it. of liquor. (Sings.) “Ale in a Saxon rumkin then,

Wood. We should have made excellent man makes valour burgeon in tall men."-But, I crave and wife in time.

pardon. I fear I keep that gentleman from Lovel. A good old couple, when the snows fell, serious thoughts. There be those that wait for to crowd about a sea-coal fire, and talk over old me in the cellar. matters.

Wood. Who are they? Wood. While each should feel, what neither Drunken Man. Gentlemen, my good friends, cared to acknowledge, that stories oft repeated Cleveland, Delaval, and Truby. I know by this may, at last, come to lose some of their grace by time they are all clamorous for me. [Exit singing. the repetition

Wood. This keeping of open house acquaints a Lovel. Which both of you may yet live long man with strange companions. enough to discover. For, take my word for it, Margaret is a bird that will come back to you Enter, at another door, Three calling for Harrr Freemax. without a lure.

Harry Freeman, Harry Freeman. Wood. Never, never, Lovel. Spite of my levity, He is not here. Let us go look for him. with tears I confess it, she was a lady of most Where is Freeman ? confirmed honour, of an unmatchable spirit, and Where is Harry? [Exeunt the Three, calling for determinate in all virtuous resolutions; not hasty to anticipate an affront, nor slow to feel, Wood. Did you ever see such gentry? (laughing.) where just provocation was given.

These are they that fatten on ale and tobacco Lovel. What made you neglect her, then ? in a morning, drink burnt brandy at noon to TVood. Mere levity and youthfulness of blood, promote digestion, and piously conclude with

FBEEMAN.

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