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wife so virtuous a woman, when I least ex- Greg. Yes, faith, you're almost as good an pected it! Oh my injured dear! behold your apothecary as I'm a physician, and if you Gregory, your own husband.

please I'll convey you to the patient. Dor. Ha !

Lean. If I did but know a few physical hard Greg. Oh me, I'm so full of joy, I cannot tell wordsthee more, than that I am as much the happiest Greg. A few physical hard words ! why, in of men, as thou art the most virtuous of women. a few hard words consists the science. Would

Dor. And art thou really my Gregory? And you know as much as the whole faculty in an hast thou any more of these purses ?

instant, Sir? come along, come along. Greg. No, my dear, I have no more about Hold, let me go first; the doctor must always me; but 'tis probable in a few days I may go before the apothecary.

[Ercunt. have a hundred; for the strangest accident has happened me!

SCENE III.SIR JASPER's House. Dor. Yes, my dear, but I can tell you whom you are obliged 10 for that accident; had you Sir Jasper, CHARLOTTE, GREGORY, not beaten me this morning, I had never had

LEANDER. you beaten into a physician.

Sir J. Has she made no attempt to speak Greg. Oh, oh! then 'tis to you I owe all that drubbing

yet? Dor. Yes, my dear, though I little dreamt that,

as she used to make a sort of a noise be

Jam. Not in the least, Sir; so far from it, of the consequence. Greg. How infinitely I'm obliged to thee! fore, she is now quite silent. But hush !

Sir J. (Looking on his watch.] 'Tis almost

the time the doctor promised to return. OL! Enter HELLEBORE.

he is here. Doctor, your servant.

Greg: Well, Sir, how does my patient? Hel. Are not you the great doctor just come Sir J. Rather worse, Sir, since your preto this town, famous for curing dumbness! scription. Greg. Sir, I am he.

Greg. So much the better, 'tis a sign that it Hel. Then, Sir, I should be glad of your operates. advice.

Sir J. Who is that gentleman, pray, with Greg. Let me feel your pulse.

you? Hel. Not for myseli, good doctor; I am my- Greg. An apothecary, Sir. Mr. Apotheself, Sir, a brother of the faculty, what the cary, I desire you would immediately apply world calls a mad doctor. have at present the remedy I prescribed. under my care, a patient whom I can by no Sir J. A song, doctor ? prescribe a song! means prevail with to speak.

Greg. Prescribe a song, Sir! yes, Sir, preGreg. I shall make him speak, Sir.

scribe a song Sir. Is there any thing so Hel. It will add, Sir, to the great reputation strange in that? did you never hear of pills to you have already acquired : I am happy in purge melancholy? If you understand these finding you.

things better than I, why did you send for me? Greg. Sir, I am as happy in finding you, sbud! Sir, this song would make a stone You see that woman there ; she is possessed speak. But, if you please, Sir, you and I will of a more strange sort of madness, and confer at some distance during the application; imagines every one she sees to be her husband. for this song will do you as much harm as it Now, Sir, if you will but admit her into your will do your daughter good. Be sure, Mr. Apohouse

thecary, to pour it down her ears very closely. Hel. Most willingly, Sir. Greg. The first thing, Sir, you are to do, is

Air.—LEANDER. to let out thirty ounces of her blood : then, Sir, you are to shave off all her hair, all her hair, Thus, lovely patient, Charlotte sees Sir; after which you are to make a very Her dying patient kneel; severe use of your rod twice a day; and take Soon cured will be your feign's disease ; a particular care that she have not the least But what physician e'er can ease allowance beyond bread and water.

The torments which I feel. Hel. Sir, I shall readily agree to the dictales of so great a man; nor can I help ap

Think, skilful nymph, while I complain, proving of your method, which is exceeding

Ah! think what I endure! mild and wholesome.

All other remedies are vain ; Greg: (To his wife.) My dear, that gentle.

The lovely cause of all my pain man will conduct you to my lodging. —Sir, I

Can only cause my cure. beg you will take a particular care of the lady.

Greg. It is, Sir, a great and subtle questi ja Hel. You may depend on't, Sir, nothing in among the doctors, whether the women are my power shall be wanting ; you have only to

beg that inquire for Dr. Hellebore.

you would attend to this, Sir, if you please. Dor. "Twon't be long before I see you, hus

-Some say, no; others say, yes; and for band.

my part, I say both yes, and no ; forasmuch Hel. Husband! this is as unaccountable a

as the incongruity of the opaque humours that madness as any I have yet met with.

meet in the natural temper of women, are the [Exit with DORCAS.

cause that the brutal part will always prevail over the sensible

--one sees that the ineEnter LEANDER:

quality of their opinions depends on the black

movement of the circle of the moon, and as the Greg. I think I shall be revenged of you sun that darts his rays upon the concavity of now, my dear.-S0, Sir.

the earth, finds-Lean. I think I make a pretty good apothe- Char. No, I am not at all capable of changcary now.

ing my opinion.

Sir J. My daughter speaks ! my daughter | you mention, for I don't remember I ever heard speaks! Oh, the great power of physic! oh, ihem spoke of before? the admirable physician! How can I reward Greg. They are some, Sir, lately discovered thee for such a service ?

by the Royal Society. Greg. This distemper has given me a most Sir J. Did you ever see any thing equal to insufferable deal of trouble.

her iosolence ? [Traversing the stage in a great heut, the Greg. Daughters are indeed sometimes à apothecary following.

little too head-strong. Char. Yes, Sir, I have recovered my speech; Sir J. You cannot imayine, Sir, how foolbut I have recovered it to tell you, that ishly fond she is of that Leander. never will have any husband but Leander. Greg. The heat of blood, Sir, causes that in (Speaks with great eagerness, and drives young minds. SIR JASPER round the stage.

Sir J. For my part, the moment I discovered Sir J. But

the violence of her passion, I have always Char. Nothing is capable to shake the re- kept her locked up. solution I have taken.

Greg. You have done very wisely. Sir J. What!

Sir J. And I have prevented them from Char. Your rhetoric in vain ; all your dis- having the least communication together; for courses signify nothing.

who knows what might have been the conseSir J. 1

quence ? who knows but she might have taken Char. I am determined, and all the fathers it into her head, to have run away with him. in the world shall never oblige me to marry Greg. Very true. contrary to my inclination.

Sir J. Ay, Sir, let me alone for governing Sir J. I have

girls; I think I have some reason to be vain Char. I never will submit to this tyranny ; on that head; I think I have shown the world, and if I must not have the man I like, i'll die that I understand a little of women, I think I a maid.

have; and let me tell you, Sir, there is put a Sir J. You shall have Mr. Dapper

little art required ; if this girl had had some Char. No, not in any manner, not in the fathers, they had not kept her out of the hands least, not at all ; you throw away your breath, of so vigilant a lover as I have done. you lose your time ; you may contine me, beat Greg. No certainly, Sir. me, bruise me, destroy me, kill me, do what you will, but I never will consent ; nor all

Enter DORCAS. your threats, nor all your blows, nor all your Dor. Where is this villain, this rogue, this ill-usage, never shall force me to consent; so pretended physician? far from giving him my heart, I never will give Sir J. Heyday! What, what, what's the him my hand, for he is my aversion, I hate matter now? the very sight of him, I had rather see the Dor. Oh sirrah! sirrah! would you have devil, I had rather touch a toad; you may destroyed your wife, you villain? would you make me miserable any other way, but with have been guilty of murder, dog! him you sha'n't, that I'm resolved.

Greg. Hoity, toity! What mad woman is Greg. There, Sir, there, I think we have this ? brought her tongue to a pretty tolerable con- Sir J. Poor wretch! for pity's sake, cure sistency.

her, doctor. Sir J. Consistency, quotha ! why, there is Greg. Sir, I shall not cure her, unless someno stopping her tongue.- Dear doctor, I desire body gives me a fee. If you will give me a you will make her dumb again.

fee, Sir Jasper, you shall see me cure her this Greg. That's impossible, Sir; all that I can instant. do to serve you is, I can make you deaf, if you Dor. I'll see you, you villain. Cure me! please. Sir J. And do you think

Enter JAMES. Chur. All your reasoning shall never con- Jam. Oh, Sir! undone, undone! your quer my resolution.

daughter is run away with her lover, LeanSir J. You shall marry Mr. Dapper, this der, who was here disguised like an apotheevening.

cary—and this is the rogue of a physician, Char. I'll be buried first.

who has contrived all the affair. Greg. Stay, Sir, stay, let me regulate this Sir J. How! am I abused in this manner? affair; it is a distemper that possesses her, Here, who is there? Bid my clerk bring pen, and I know what remedy to apply to it. ink, and paper; I'll send this fellow to jail

Sir J. Is it possible, Sir, that you can cure immediately. the distempers of the mind?

Jum. Indeed, my good doctor, you stand a Greg. Sir, I can cure any thing. Harkye, Mr. very fair chance to be hanged for stealing an Apothecary, you see that the love she has for heiress. Leander is entirely contrary to the will of her Greg. Yes, indeed, I believe I shall take my father, and that there is no time to lose, and degrees now. that an immediate remedy is necessary : for Bor. And are they going to hang you, my my part, I know of but one, which is a dose of dear husband ? purgative running-away, mixt with two

Greg. You see, my dear wife. drachms of pills matrimoniac, and three large Dor. Had you finished the faggots, it had handfuls of the arbor vitæ ; perhaps she will been some consolation. make some difficulty to take them; but, as Greg. Leave me, or you'll break my heart. you are an able apothecary, I shall trust to Dor. No, I'll stay to encourage you at your you for the success; go, make her walk in the death ; nor will I budge an inch, till I've seen garden, be sure lose no time; to the remedy, you hanged. quick, to the remedy specific. [Exeunt LEANDER and CHARLOTTE.

Enter LEANDER and CHARLOTTE. Sir J. What drugs, Sir, were those I heard Lean. Behold, Sir, that Leander, whom you

had forbid your house, restores your daughter. Dor. So, so, our physician, I find, has to your power, even when he had her in his brought about fine matters. And is it not 1 have received letters, by which I have learnt owing to me, sirrah, that you have been a the death of an uncle, whose estate far ex-physician at all? ceeds that of your intended son-in-law. Šir J. May I beg to know whether you are

Sir J. Sir, your virtue is beyond all estates, a physician or not, or what the devil you are! and I give you my daughter with all the Greg. I think, Sir, after the miraculous cure pleasure in the world.

you have seen me perform, you have no reason Lean. Now my fortune makes me happy in- to ask, whether I am a physician or no. And deed, my dearest Charlotte. And, doctor, I'll for you, wife, I'll henceforth have you behare make thy fortune too.

with all deference to my greatness; for a Greg. If you would be so kind to make me faggot-maker can only thrash your jacket, but a physician in earnest, I should desire no other a physician, hefortune.

Dor. Can pick your pocket. Why, thoa Lean. Faith, doctor, I wish I could do that pulled up fool! I could have made as good a in return for your having made me an apothe physician myself; the cure was owing to the cary; but I'll do as well for thee, I warrant. apothecary, not the doctor.

(ExcENI.

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rain ;

PROLOGUE.

For that damn'd poet's spar'd, who damos a

brother, The time has been when plays were not so As one thief ’scapes that executes another. plenty,

(ye. Thus far alone does to the wits relate; And a less number, new, would well content But from the rest we hope a better fate. New plays did then like almanacks appear, To please, and move, "has been our poet's And one was thought sufficient for a year:

theme, Though they are more like almanacks of late ; Art may direct, but nature is his aim ; For in one year, I think, they're out of date. And nature miss'd, in vain he boasts his art, Nor were they, without reason, joined together; For only nature can affect the heart. For just as one prognosticates the weather, Then freely judge the scenes that shall ensue; How plentiful the crop, or scarce the grain, But as with freedom, judge with candour too. What' peals of thunder, or what showers of He would not lose, through prejudice, his

cause;
So t'other can foretell, by certain rules, Nor would obtain, precariously, applause.
What crops of coxcombs, or what floods of fools. Impartial censure he requests from all
In such like prophecies were poets skill'd, Prepar'd by just decrees to stand or fall.
Which now they find in their own tribe fulfill'd.
The dearth of wit they did so long presage,

ACT I.
Is fallen on us, and almost starves the stage.
Were you not griev'd, as often as you saw

SCENE I.-A Room of State.
Poor actors thrash such empty shears of straw ?

Toiling and labouring at their lungs' expense, The Curtain rising slowly to soft Music, discovers To start a jest, or force a little sense?

ALMERIA in Mourning, LEONORA ưuiting in Hard fate for us, still harder in the event:

Mourning Our authors sin, but we alone repent. Still they proceed, and, at our charge, write After the Music, Almeria rises from her Chair,

and comes forward. worse ; "Twere some amends, if they could reimburse; Almeria, Music has charms to soothe a savage But there's the devil, though their cause is

breast, Jost,

To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. There's no recovering damages or cost. I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd, Good wits, forgive this liberty we take, And, as with living souls, have been inform’d Since custom gives the losers leave to speak. By magic numbers and persuasive sound. But, if provok'd, your dreadful wrath remains, What then am I? Am I'more senseless growd Take your revenge nipon the coming scenes : Then trees or flint? 0, force of constant wu.

4 U

cause

'Tis not in harmony to calm my griefs. My love, my lord, my husband still, though Anselmo sleeps, and is at peace ; last night

lost. The silent tomb receiv'd the good old king ;

Leon. Husband! Oh, Heavens ! He and bis sorrows now are safely lodg'd Alm. Alas! what have I said? Within its cold, but hospitable bošom.

My grief has hurried me beyond all thought. Why am not I at peace ?

I would have kept that secret; though I know Leon. Dear Madam, cease,

Thy love and faith to me deserve all contiOr moderate your grief; there is no cause

dence. Alm. No cause! Peace, peace; there is But 'tis the wretch's comfort still to have eternal cause,

Some small reserve of near and inward wo, And misery eternal will succeed.

Some unsuspected hoard of darling grief, Thou canst not tell-thou hast indeed no cause. Which they unseen may wail, and weep, and Leon. Believe me, Madam, I lament An

mourn,
selmo,

And, glutton-like, alone devour.
And always did compassionate his fortune ; Leon. Indeed,
Have often wept, to see how cruelly

I knew not this.
Your father kept in chains his fellow-king: Alm. Oh, no, thou know'st not half,
And oft, at night, when all have been retir'd, Know'st nothing of my sorrows--if thou
Have stolen from bed, and to his prison crept ;

didstWhere, while his guoler slept, i' through ine If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me! grate

Tell me, I know thou wouldst; thou art Have softly whisper'd, and inquir'd his health;

compassionate. Sent in my sighs and pray’rs for his deliver- Leon. Witness these tearsance;

(offer: Alm. I thank thee, LeonoraFor sighs and pray’rs were all that I could Indeed I do, for pitying thy sad mistress : Alm. Indeed ihou hast a soft and gentle For 'uis, alas! the poor prerogative nature,

Of greatness, to be wretched, and unpitiedThat thus could melt to see a stranger's But I did promise I would tell thee-'What? wrongs.

My miseries! Thou dost already know 'em : Oh, Leonora, hadst thou known Anselmo, And when I told thee thou didst nothing How would thy heart have bled to see his

know, suilerings!

It was because thou didst not know Alphonso: Thou hadst no cause but general compassion. For to have known my loss, thou must base Leon. Love of my royal mistress gave me

known

His worth, his truth, and tenderness of love. My love of you begot my grief for him;

Leon. The memory of that brave prince For I had heard that when the chance of war

stands fair
Had bless'd Anselmo's arms with victory, In all report-
And the rich spoil of all the field, and you, And I have heard imperfectly his loss;
The glory of the whole, were made the prey But, fearful to renew your troubles past,
Of his success; that then, in spite of hate, I never did presume to ask the story.
Revenge, and that hereditary feud

Alm. If for my swelling heart I can, 171 Between Valentia’s and Granada's kings,

tell thee. He did endear himself to your affection, I was a welcome captive in Valentia, By all the worthy and indulgent ways E'en on the day when Manuel, my father, His most industrious goodness could invent; Led on his conquering troops high as the gates Proposing, by a match between Alphonso Of king Anselmo's palace; włich, in rage, His son, the brave Valentian prince, and you, And heat of war, and dire revenge, he fr'd. To end the long dissension, and unite

The good king, flying to avoid the flames, The jarring crowns.

Started amidst his foes, and made captivity Alm. Alphonso ! O, Alphonso !

His fatal refuge- Would that I had fallen Thou too art quiet-long hast been at peace-| Amidst those flames-but 'twas not so de Both, both--father and son are now no more.

creed. Then why am I? Oh, when shall I have rest? Alphonso, who foresaw my father's cruelty, Why do I live to say you are no more? Had borne the queen and me on board a ship Why are all these things thus ?-Is it of force? Ready to sail and when this news was Is there necessity I must be miserable ?

brought Is it of moment to the peace of Heaven, We put to sea; but being betray'd by some That I should be afflicied thus ?- If not, Who knew our flight, we closely were pursu'd, Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are things laid And almost taken, when a sudden storm By some unseen hand, so, as of sure conse- Drove us, and those that follow'd on the coast quence,

Of Afric: there our vessel struck the shore They must to me bring curses, grief of heart, And bulging 'gainst a rock, was dash'd in The last distress of life, and sure despair ?

pieces ;

[fliction! Leon. Alas! you search too far, and think But Heaven spar'd me for yet much more altoo deeply.

Conducting them who follow'd us, to shun Alni. Why was I carried to Anselmo's court? The shore, and save me floating on the waves, Or there, why was I used so tenderly ? While the good queen and my Alphonso perWhy not ill treated like an enemy?

ish'd. For so my father would have used his child. Leon. Alas! were you then wedded to Al Oh, Alphonso, A'phonso !

[sight.

phonso ? Devouring seas have wash'd thee from my Alm. That day, that fatal day, our hands No time shall raze thee from my memory ;

were join'd. No, I will live to be thy monument :

For when my lord beheld the ship pursuing, The cruel ocean is no more thy tomb:

And saw her rate so far exceeding ours, But in my heart thou art intere'd ; there, there, He came to me, and begg'd me by my lore, Thy dear resemblance is for ever fix'd ; I would consent the priest shonld make us ope;

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