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Lord R. Thy words, the words of truth, ha ve
pierc'd my heart.

I am the stain of knighthood and of arms.
Oh, if my brave deliverer survive

The traitor's sword

Was I the cause? No; I was not the cause.
Yon matchless villain did seduce my soul
To frantic jealousy.

Anna. My lady lives.

Grief cannot break a heart so hard as mine.
Lord R. Oh! misery,

Anna. My lord! my lord!

Lord R. Speak! I can hear of horror.
Anna. Horror, indeed!
Lord R. Matilda,-
Anna. Is no more:

Anna. Alas! look there, my lord.

Lord R. The mother and her son. How curs' d I She ran, she flew like lightning up the hill,


Nor halted till the precipice she gain'd,
Then lifting up her head

And her white hands to heaven, seeming to say

Why am I forc'd to this? She plung'd herself
Into the empty air.

Lord R. I will not vent,

Amidst thy raging grief I must proclaim
My innocence!

Lady R. Thy innocence!

Lord R. My guilt

Is innocence, compar'd with what thou think'st it
Lady R. Of thee I think not: what have I to do
With thee, or anything? My son! my son!
My beautiful! my brave! how proud was I
Of thee and of thy valour! My fond heart
O'erflow'd this day with transport, when I thought
Of growing old amidst a race of thine.
A little while,

(Rushes out.) Lord R. Follow her, Anna: I myself would follow,

But in this rage she must abhor my presence.
[Exit Anna.

Curs'd, curs'd Glenalvon, he escap'd too well,
Tho' slain and baffled by the hand he hated.
(Die s.) Foaming with rage and fury to the last,
Cursing his conqueror, the felon died.

Re-enter ANNA.

Lord R. But my deliverer's dead!

Lady R. (Recovering.) Where am I now? Stili in In vain complaints, the passion of my soul.
this wretched world!

I'll go straight to battle, where the man that makes
Me turn aside must threaten worse than death.
Thou, faithful to thy mistress, take this ring,
Full warrant of my power. Let every rite
With cost and pomp upon their funerals wait;
For Randolph hopes he never shall return.



Was I a wife! a mother not so long!
What am I now ?-I know. But I shall be
That whilst I please: for such a son
And such a husband make a woman bold.


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SCENE I.-Jobson's House.

Enter JOBSON and NELL.

Nell. Pr'ythee, good Jobson, stay with me tonight, and for once make merry at home.

Job. Peace, peace, you jade! and go spin; for, if I lack any thread for my stitching, I will punish you by virtue of my sovereign authority.

Nell. Ay, marry, no doubt of that, whilst you

take your swing at the alehouse, spend your substance, get as drunk as a beast, and then come home like a sot, and use one like a dog.

Job. Nounz! do you prate? Why, how now, brazen-face! do you speak ill of the government? Don't you know, hussy, that I am king in my own house, and that this is treason against my majesty?

Nell. Did ever one hear such stuff? But I pray you now, Jobson, don't go to the alehouse to-night.

Job. Well, I'll humour you for once: but don't grow saucy upon't; for I am invited by Sir John Loverule's butler, and am to be princely drunk with punch at the hall-place; we shall have a bowl | large enough to swim in.

Nell. But they say, husband, the new lady will not suffer a stranger to enter her doors; she grudges even a draught of small beer to her own servants; and several of the tenants have come home with broken heads from her ladyship's own hands, only for smelling strong beer in the house,

Job. A plague on her for a fanatical jade! She has almost distracted the good knight. But she's now abroad, feasting with her relations, and will scarce come home to-night; and we are to have much drink, a fiddle, and merry gambols.

Nell. O, dear husband, let me go with you; we'll be as merry as the night's long.

Job. Why, how now, you bold baggage! would you be carried to a company of smooth-faced, eating, drinking, lazy, serving-men? No, no, you jade, I'll not be a cuckold.

Nell. I'm sure they would make me welcome: you promised I should see the house: and the family has not been here before since you married and brought me home.

Job. Why, thou most audacious strumpet, darest thou dispute with me, thy lord and master? Get in and spin, or else my strap shall wind about thy ribs most confoundedly.


Ile that has the best wife,

She's the plague of his life;

But for her who will scold and will quarrel,

Let him cut her off short

Of her meat and her sport,

And ten times a day hoop her barrel, brave boys,
And ten times a day hoop her barrel

Nell. Well, we poor women must always be slaves, and never have any joy; but you men run and ramble at your pleasure.

Job. Why you most pestilent baggage, will you be hoop'd? Be gone.

Nell. I must obey. (Going.)

Job. Stay; now I think on't, here's sixpence for you; get ale and apples, stretch and puff thyself up with lamb's wool, rejoice and revel by thyself, be drunk and wallow in thy own sty, like a grumbling sow as thou art. (Sings)

He that has the best wife,

She's the plague of his life, &c.

as a lord: I am a true English heart, and look upon drunkenness as the best part of the liberty of the subject.

But. Come, Jobson, we'll bring out our bowl of punch in solemn procession; and then for a song to crown our happiness. [Exeunt. Re-enter JOBSON, Butler, &c, with a bowl of punch.


Come, jolly Bacchus, god of wine,
Crown this night with pleasure;
Let none at cares of life repine,

To destroy our pleasure:
Fill up the mighty sparkling bowl,
That every true and loyal soul
May drink and sing without control
To support our pleasure.

Thus, mighty Bacchus, shalt thou be
Guardian of our pleasure;
That under thy protection we

May enjoy new pleasure.
And as the hours glide away,
We'll in thy name invoke their stay,
And sing thy praises that we may
Live and die with pleasure.

But. The king and the royal family, in a brimmer.

Here's a good health to the king,
And send him a prosp'rous reign;
O'er hills and high mountains
We'll drink dry the fountains,
Until the sun rises again, brace boys,
Until the sun rises again.

Then here's to thee, my boy boon,

And here's to the, my boy boon;

As we've tarry'd all day

For to drink down the sun,

So we'll tarry and drink down the moon, brave boys, So we'll tarry and drink down the moon.

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Lady L. O heaven and earth! what's here within my doors? Is hell broke loose? What troop of flends are here? Sirrah, you impudent rascal, speak!

Sir J. For shame, my dear. As this is a time of mirth and jollity, it has always been the custom of [Exeunt. my house to give my servants liberty in this season, and to treat my country neighbours, that with innocent sports they may divert themselves.

SCENE II.-Sir John Loverule's House. Enter Butler, Cook, Footman, Coachman, LUCY, LETTICE, &c.

But. I would the blind fiddler and our dancing neighbours were here, that we might rejoice a little, while our termagant lady is abroad: I have made a most sovereign bowl of punch.

Lucy. We had need rejoice sometimes, for our devilish new lady will never suffer it in her hearing.

Enter blind Fiddler, JOBSON, and neighbours. But. Welcome, welcome all; this is our wish. Honest old acquaintance, goodman Jobson, how dost thou ?

Job. By my troth, I am always sharp-set towards punch; and am now come with a firm resolution, though but a poor cobbler, to be as richly drunk

Lady L. I say, meddle with your own affairs; I will govern my own house without your putting in an oar. Shall I ask you leave to correct my own servants?

Sir J. I thought, madam, this had been my house, and these my tenants and servants.

Lady L. Did I bring a fortune, to be thus abused and snubbed before people? Do you call my authority in question, ungrateful man? Look to your dogs and horses abroad, but it will be my province to govern here; nor will I be controlled by e'er a hunting, hawking knight in Christendom.


Te gods, you gave to me a wife,
Out of your grace and favour,
To be the comfort of my life,
And I was glad to have her;

But if your providence divine Far greater bliss design her, To obey your wills, at any time, I'm ready to resign her.

This is to be married to a continual tempest: strife and noise, canting and hypocrisy, are eternally afloat: 'tis impossible to bear it long.

Lady L. Ye filthy scoundrels, and odious jades, I'll teach you to junket it thus, and steal my provi

sions; I shall be devoured at this rate.

But. I thought, madam, we might be merry once upon a holiday.

Lady L. Holiday, you popish cur! Is one day more holy than another? And if it be, you'll be sure to get drunk upon it, you rogue. (Beats him.) after an abominable fiddle? (Lugs Lucy by the ears.) You miux, you impudent flirt! are you jigging it Lucy. O lud! she has pull'd off both my ears, Sir J. Pray, madam, consider your sex and quality: I blush for your behaviour.

Lady L. Consider your incapacity; you shall not instruct me. Who are you, thus muffled, you buzzard? (She beats them all; Jobson steals by.)

Job. I am an honest, plain, psalm-singing cobbler, madam: if your ladyship would but go to church, you might hear me above all the rest there.

Lady L. I'll try thy voice hero, first, villain. (Strikes him.)

Job. Nounz! what a plague, what a devil ails you?

Lady L. O profane wretch! wicked varlet! Sir J. For shame! your behaviour is monstrous! Lady L. Was ever poor lady so miserable in a brutish busband as I am? I that am so pious and so religious a woman!

Job. (Sings.) He that has the best wife,

She's the plague of his life;

But for her that will scold and will quarrel.

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home; and knowing your worship's hospitality, desire the favour to be harbour'd under your roof to-night.

Lady L. Out of my house, you lowd conjurer you magician.

have any art, ye shall smart for this. Doc. Here's a turn! here's a change! Well, if I (Aside.)

Sir J. You see, friend, I am not master of my down the lane about a quarter of a mile, and you'll own house; therefore, to avoid any uneasiness, go see a cobbler's cottage; stay there a little, and I'll send my servant to conduct you to a tenant's house, where you'll be well entertained.

Doc. I thank you, sir; I'm your most humble servant; but as for your lady there, she shall, this [Exit. conference together. night, feel my resentment. Sir J. Come, madam, you and I must have some

Lady L. Yes; I will have a conference and a re

formation, too, in this house, or I'll turn it upside down, I will.


SCENE III-Jobson's house. Enter NELL and the Doctor.

Nell. Pray, sir, mend your draught, if you please; you are very welcome, sir.

Doc. Thank you heartily, good woman! and to requite your civility, I'll tell you your fortune.

Nell. O, pray do, sir; I never had my fortune told me in my life.

Doc. Let me behold the lines of your face. Nell. I'm afraid, sir, 'tis none of the cleanest; I have been about dirty work all this day.

Doc. Come, come, 'tis a good face; be not ashamed of it; you shall shew it in greater places suddenly.

Nell. O dear, sir, I shall be mightily ashamed; I want dacity when I come before great folks.

Doc. You must be confident, and fear nothing; there is much happiness attends you.

Nell. Oh me! this is a rare man; heaven be thanked. (Aside.)

Doc. To-morrow, before the sun-rise, you shall be the happiest woman in this country.

Nell. How, by to-morrow? Alack-a-day, sir! how can that be?

Doc. No more shall you be troubled with a surly husband, that rails at, and straps you.

Nell. Lud! how came he to know that? He must be a conjurer! (Aside.) Indeed, my husband is somewhat rugged, and, in his cups, will beat me, but it is not much: he's an honest, pains-taking man, and I'll let him have his way. Pray, sir, take t'other cup of ale.

Doc. I thank you. Believe me, to-morrow you shall be the richest woman in the hundred, and ride in your own coach.

Nell. O father! you jeer me.

Doc. By my art, I do not. But mark my words, be confident, and bear all out, or worse will follow. Nell. Never fear, sir, I warrant you. O gemini!

a coach.

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by such rogues as you are, mackmaticians, and almanac makers?

Nell. Pr'ythee, peace, husband; we shall be rich, and have a coach of our own.

Job. A coach! a cart, a wheelbarrow, you jade. By the mackin, she's drunk, beastly drunk, most confoundedly drunk. Get to bed, you strumpet. (Beats her.)

Nell. O mercy on us! is this a taste of my good
fortune? Oh, you are a devil of a conjurer, are
Doc. You had better not have touch'd her, you
surly rogue.

Job. Out of my house, you villain.
Doc. Farewell, you paltry slave.

Job. Get out, you rogue.

· SCENE IV.-An open Country.

Enter Doctor.


Doc. My little spirits now appear,
Nadir and Abishog draw near;
The time is short, make no delay;
Then quickly haste and come away;
Nor moon nor stars afford their light,
But all is wrapp'd in gloomy night:
Both men and beast to rest incline,

And all things favour my design.


Spi. (Within.) Say, master, what is to be done?

Doc. My strict commands be sure attend,

For ere this night shall have an end,
You must this cobbler's wife transform,
And to the knight's the like perform;
With all your most specific charms,
Convey each wife to diff'rent arms;
Let the delusion be so strong,

That none may know the right from wrong,

Spi. All this we will with care perform,
In thunder, lightning, and a storm.


In Bath a wanton wife did dwell,
As Chaucer he did write,
Who wantonly did spend her time
In many a fond delight.
All on a time so sick she was,
And she at length did die;
And then her soul at Paradise
Did knock most mightily.

Lady L. Why, villain, rascal, screech-owl, who makest a worse noise than a dog hung in the pales, or a hog in a high wind. Where are all my servants? Somebody come and hamstring this rogue. (Knocks.)

Job. Why, how now, you brazen quean! You must get drunk with the conjurer, must you? I'll give you money another time to spend in lamb's wool, you saucy jade, shall I?

Lady L. Monstrous! I can find no bell to ring. Where are my servants? They shall toss him in a blanket.

Job. Ay, the jade's asleep still; the conjurer told her she should keep her coach, and she is dreaming of her equipage. (Sings.)


I will come in spite, she said,
Of all such churls as thee;
Thou art the cause of all our pain,
Our grief and misery.

Thou first broke the commandment,
In honour of thy wife:

When Adam heard her say these words,

He ran away for life.

Lady L. Why, husband! Sir John! will you suffer me to be thus insulted?

Job. Husband! Sir John! what a plague has she knighted me? And my name's Zekel, too; a good jest, faith.

Lady L. Ha! he's gone, he's not in the bed. Heaven, where am I? Foh! what loathsome smells are here? Canvas sheets, and a filthy ragged curtain; a beastly rug, and a flock bed.

Am I

[Thunder. Exit Doctor. awake, or is it all a dream? What rogue is that? Sirrah! where am I? Who brought me hither? What rascal are you?

SCENE V.-Jobson's House. The bed in view.

JOBSON discovered at work.

Job. What devil has been abroad to-night? I never heard such claps of thunder in my life; I thought my little hovel would have flown away; but now all is clear again, and a fine star-light morning it is. I'll settle myself to work. They say,

Winter's thunder is summer's wonder.


Of all the trades from east to west,
The cobbler's past contending,

Is like in time to prove the best,
Which every day is mending.

How great his praise, who can amend
The soles of all his neighbours;
Nor is unmindful of his end,

But to his last still labours.

Lady L. (In bed.) Heyday! what impudent balladsinging rogue is that, who dares wake me out of my sleep? I'll have you flayed, you rascal.

Job. What a plague, does she talk in her sleep? or is she drunk still?

Job. This is amazing; I never heard such words from her before? If I take my strap to you I'll make you know your husband; I'll teach you better manners, you saucy drab.

Lady L. Oh, astonishing impudence! You my husband, sirrah? I'll have you hanged, you rogue; I'm a lady. Let me know who has given me a sleeping draught, and conveyed me hither, you dirty varlet?

Job. A sleeping draught! yes, you drunken jade, you had a sleeping draught with a plague to ye. What, has not your lamb's-wool done working yot?

Lady L. Where am I? Where has my villainous husband put me? Lucy! Lettice! Where are my queans?

Job. Ha, ha, ha! What, does she call her maids, too? The conjurer has made her mad as well as drunk.

Lady L. He talks of conjurers; sure I am bewitched! Ha! what clothes are here? a linseywoolsey gown, a calico hood, a red bays petticoat; I am removed from my own house by witchcraft. What must I do? (Horns wind without.) What will become of me? Job. Hark! the hunters and the merry horns are

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