SCENE II.-An Alehouse Room:

Several shabby fellows with punch and tobacco.-TONY at the head of the table, a little higher than the rest; a mallet in his hand.

All. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, bravo!

1st Fel. Now, gentleman, silence for a song.

squire is going to knock himself down for a song. All. Ay, a song, a song.

The

Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeons.

SONG.-TONY.

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain,

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning;

Good liquor, 1 stoutly maintain,

Gives genus a better discerning.

Let them brag of their heathenish gods,
Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians;
Their quis, their quæs, and their quods,
They're all but a parcel of pigeons.

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.

When hypocrite preachers come down
A preaching that drinking is sinful,
I'll wager the rascals a crown,

They always preach best with a skinful.
But when you come down with your pence,
For a slice of such scurvy religion,

I'll leave it to all men of sense,

But you, my good friends, are the pigeons.

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.

Then come, put the jorum about,

And let us be merry and clever;

Our hearts and our liquors are stout,

Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons forever.

Let some cry up woodcock or hare,

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons;
But of all the birds in the air,

Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons.

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.

1st Fel. The Squire has got spunk in him.

2d Fel. I loves to hear him sing, bekase he never gives

us nothing that's low.

it.

3d Fel. Oh, damn anything that's low, I can't bear

4th Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing, a'ter all. If so be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.

3d Fel. I like the maxim of it, Master Muggins. What though I am obligated to dance a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison if bear ever dances but to the very genteelest of tunes "Water Parted," or the minuet in "Ariadne."

my

2d Fel. What a pity it is the Squire is not come to his own! It would be well for all the publicans within ten miles round of him.

Tony. Ecod, and o it would, Master Slang. I'd then show what it was to keep choice of company.

3d Fel. Oh, he takes after his own father for that. To be sure, old Squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For winding the straight horn, or beating a thicket for a hare, or a wench, he never had his fellow. It was a saying in the place, that he kept the best horses, dogs, and girls in the whole country.

Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be no recreant, I promise you. I have been thinking of Bet Bouncer and the miller's gray mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink about and be merry, for you pay no reckoning.

Enter LANDLOrd, l.

Well, Stingo, what's the matter.

Land. There be two gentlemen in a post-chaise at the door. They have lost their way upo' the forest; and they are talking something about Mr. Hardcastle.

Tony. As sure as can be one of them must be the gentleman that's coming down to court my sister. Then desire them to step this way, and I'll set them right in a twinkling. [Exit Landlord, L.] Gentlemen, as they mayn't be good enough company for you, step down for a moment, and I'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. [Exeunt Mob, L. U. E.] Father-in-law has been calling me whelp and hound this half year. Now, if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old grumbletonian. But then I'm afraid-afraid of what? I shall soon be worth fifteen

hundred a year, and let him frighten me out of that if he

can.

Enter LANDLORD, conducting MARLOW and HASTINGS, L.

Mar. What a tedious, uncomfortable day have we had of it! We were told it was but forty miles across the country, and we have come above three-score.

Hast. And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way.

Mar. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself under an obligation to every one I meet; and often stand the chance of an unmannerly auswer.

Hast. At present, however, we are not likely to receive any answer.

Tony. [With his pipe in his hand.] No offence, gentlemen. But I'm told you have been inquiring for one Mr. Hardcastle, in these parts. Do you know what part of the country you are in?

Hast. Not in the least, sir, but should thank you for information.

Tony. Nor the way you came?

Hast. No, sir; but if you can inform us

Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that-you have lost your way.

Mar. We wanted no information of that, sir.

Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as to ask the place from whence you came?

Mar. That's not necessary towards directing us where we are to go.

Tony. No offence; but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son?

Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he has the family you mention.

Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trolloping, talkative maypole; the son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond of.

Mar. Our information differs in this. The daughter is

said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son, an awkward · booby, reared up, and spoiled at his mother's apron string.

Tony. He-he-hem! Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe.

Hast. Unfortunate!

Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's. [Winking upon the Landlord.] Mr. Hardcastle's, of Quagmire Marsh, you know.

Land. Master Hardcastle's! Lack-a-daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong! When you came to the bottom of the hill, you should have crossed down Squash-lane.

Mar. Cross down Squash-lane!

Land. Then you were to keep straight forward, till you came to where four roads meet!

Mar. Come to where four roads meet!

Tony. Ay; but you must be sure to take only one of them.

Mar. Oh, sir, you're facetious.

Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crackskull Čommon: there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward till you come to Farmer Murrain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn, you are to turn to the right and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill

Mar. Zounds, mán! we could as soon find out the longitude!

Hast. What's to be done, Marlow?

Mar. This house promises but a poor reception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us.

Land. Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house.

Tony. And to my knowledge that's taken up by three lodgers already. [After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted.] I have hit it. Don't you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, with-three chairs and a bolster?

Hast. Damn your fireside!

Mar. And your three chairs and a bolster, say I.

Tony. You do, do you? Then let me see-what if you go on a mile further to the Buck's Head?-the old Buck's Head on the hill-one of the best inns in the whole country?

Hast. Oh, ho! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however.

Land. [Aside to Tony.] Sure, you ben't sending them to your father's as an inu, be you?

Tony. Mum, you fool, you. Let them find that out. [To them.] You have only to keep on straight forward, till you come to a large old house by the roadside. You'll see a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about you. Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't

miss the way?

Tony. No, no. But I tell you though-the landlord is rich and going to leave off business; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he, he, he! He'll be for giving you his company, and, ecod! if you mind him, he'll persuade you that his mother was an alderman, and his aunt a justice of peace.

Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; but he keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole country.

Mar. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no further connection. We are to turn to the right, did you say?

Tony. No, no; straight forward. I'll just step myself, and show you a piece of the way. [To the Landlord.] Mum.

Land. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasantdamned, mischievous son of-no matter.

END OF ACT I.

[Exeunt.