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Man. What has been the matter, Joho? so, they hoisted her into the coach-box, and then
J. Mady. Why, we came up in such a hurry, her stomach was easy, you mun think, that our tackle was not so tight Lady Grace. Oh, I see them! I see them go as it should be.
by me. Ha, ha!
[Laughing Man. Come, tell us all -Pray, how do they J. Moody. Then you mun think, measter, travel?
there was some stowage for the belly, as well as J. Moody. Why, i' the awld coach, measter; the back, too; children are apt to be famished and, 'cause my lady loves to do things handsome, upon the road; so we had such cargoes of plumto be sure, she would have a couple of cart-hor- cake, and baskets of tongues, and biscuits, and ses clapt to the four old geldings, that neighbours cheese, and cold boiled beef And, then, in might see she went up to London in her coach case of sickness, bottles of cherry-brandy, plague and sis; and so Giles Joulter, the ploughman, water, sack, tent, and strong beer so plenty, as rides postillion.
made the awld coach crack again. Mercy upon Mar. Very well! the journey sets out as it them! and send them all well to town, I say ! should do. Aside.)-What, do they bring all Man. Aye, and well out of it again, John. the children with them, too?
J. Aloody. Ods bud, measter! you're a wise J. Moody. Noa, nva; only the younk 'squoire man; and for that matter, so am I-Whoam's and Miss Jenny. The other foive are all out at whoam, I say: I am sure we ha' got but little board, at half-a-crown a-head a-week, with John good e'er sin' we turned our backs on't. NoGruwse, at Smoke-dunghill farm.
thing but mischief! Some devil's trick or other Man. Good again! a right English academy plagued us all aw the day lang. Crack, goes one for young children!
thing! bawnce, goes another! Woa! says RoJ. Joody. Anan, sir?
ger-Then, sowse! we are all set fast in a slough. [Not understanding him. Whaw, cries miss! Scream, go the maids! and Lady Grace. Poor souls ! What will become bawl, just as thof' they were stuck. And so, of them?
mercy on us! this was the trade from morning J. Moody. Nay, nay; for that matter, madam, to night. But my lady was in such a murrain they are in very good hands : Joan loves 'um as haste to be here, that set out she would, thof' I tho't they were all her own : for she was wet- told her it was Childermas day. nurse to every mother's babe of 'um-Ay, ay; Mun. These ladics, these ladies, Johnthey'll ne'er want for a belly-full there!
J. Aloody. Ay, measter! ha' seen a little of Lady Grace. What simplicity!
them : and I find, that the best- -when she's Man. The Lud 'a mercy upon all good folks! mended, won't ha' much goodness to spare. What work will these people make!
Lord Town. Well said, John ! Ha, ha! (Holding up his hands. Man. I hope, at least, you and your good woLord Town. And when do you expect them man agree still? here, John?
J. Moody. Ay, ay; much of a muchness.J. Moody. Why, we were in hopes to ha' come Bridget sticks to me: though, as for her goodFesterday, an' it had no' been that th' awld Wea- ness—why, she was coming to London, toozlebelly horse tired : and then we were so cruel. But hauld a bit! Noa, non, says I; there may ly loaden, that the two fore-wheels came crash be mischief enough done without you. down at once, in Waggon-rut-lane, and there we Man. Why that was bravely spoken, John, lost four horses 'fore we could set things to right and like a man. again.
J. Moody. Ah, weast heart! were measter but Man. So, they bring all the baggage with the hawf the mon that I am- -Ods wookers ! thot** coach, then?
he'll speak stautly, too, sometimes-But then he J. Bloody. Ay, ay; and good store on it canno' hawld it- -no, he canno' bawld it. there is Why, my lady's geer alone were as
Lord Tuun. much as filled four portmantel trunks, beside the Lady Grace. Ha, ha, ha!
? , , great deal box that heavy Ralph and the monkey
Mun. sit upon behind.
J. Moody. Ods Aesh! but I mun hie me Lord Town.
whoam; the coach will be coming every hour naw Lady Grace. Ha, ha, ha!
--but measter charged me to find your worship Man.
out; for he has hugey business with you: and Lady Grace. Well
, Mr Moody, and pray how will certainly wait upon you by that time he can many are they within the coach?
put on a clean neck-cloth. J. Moody. Why, there's my lady, and his wor- Man. Oh, John! I'll wait upon him. ship; and the younk 'squoire, and Miss Jenny, J. Moody. Why you wonno’ be so kind, wull and the fat lap-dog, and my lady's maid, Mrs ye? Handy, and Doll Tripe, the cook, that's all- Man. If you'll tell me where you lodge. Only Doll puked a little with riding backward; J. Vloody. Just i’ the street next to wbere
man to see to
your worship dwells, at the sign of the golden Lord Town. Oh, the tramontane! If this were ball-- It's gold all over; where they sell ribbons known at half the quadrille tables in town, they and flappits, and other sort of geer for gentlewo- would lay down their cards to laugh at you.
Lady Gruce. And the minute they took them Man. d milliner's !
up again, they would do the same at the losers J. Moody. Ay, ay, one Mrs Motherly.- But to let you see, that I think good company Waunds, she has a couple of clever girls there, may sometimes want cards to keep them togestitching i' the fore-room.
ther; what think you, if we three sat soberly Man. Yes, yes, she's a woman of good busi-down to kill an hour at ombre ? ness, no doubt on't-Who recommended that Mun. I shall be too hard for you, madamn. house to you, John?
Lady Gruce. No matter; I shall have as J. Moody. The greatest good fortune in the much advantage of my lord, as you have of :ne. world, sure; for, as I was gaping about the Lord Town. Say you so, madam? have at you, streets, who should look out of the window there, then. Here! get the ombre table, and cards. but the fine gentleman that was always riding by
[Erit Lord Townly. our coach side at York races -Count- -Bas- Lady Grace. Come, Mr Manly-I know set; ay, that's he.
you don't forgive me now. Man. Basset! Oh, I remember! I know him Mun. I don't know whether I ought to forgive by sight.
your thinking so, madam. Where do you imaJ. Moody. Well, to be sure, as civil a gentle-gine I could pass my time so agreeably?
Lady Grace. I'm sorry my lord is not here, to Man. As any sharper in town. [Asside. take bis share of the coinpliinent- But he'll
J. Moody. At York, he used to breakfast with wonder what's become of us. my lady every morning
Man. I'll follow in a moment, madamMan. Yes, yes; and I suppose her ladyship
(Exit Lady GRACE. will return his compliment here in town. It must be so—She sees I love her-yet with
[Aside. what unoffending decency she avoids an explanaJ. Moody. Well, measter
tion? How amiable is every hour of her conLord Town. My service to sir Francis, and duct! What a vile opinion have I had of the my lady, John.
whole sex, for these ten years past, which this Lady Grace. And mine, pray, Mr Moody. sensible creature has recovered in less than one!
J. Noody. Aye, your honours;---they'll be Such a companion, sure, might compensate all proud on't, I dare say.
the irksome disappointments that pride, folly, Mun. I'll bring my compliments myself: so, and falsehood, ever gave me ! honest John
J. Moody. Dear Measter Manly! the good- Could women regulate, like her, their lives, ness of goodness bless and preserve you!
What halcyon days were in the gift of wives!
[Exit J. Moody. Vain rovers, then, might envy what they hate; Lord Town. What a natural creature 'tis! And only fools would mock the married state. Lady Grace. Well, I can't but think John, in
[Erit. a wet afternoon in the country, must be very good company.
SCENE I.-MRS MOTHERLY's house. ple of ten thousand ayear have ten thousand
Things to do with it. Enter Count Basset and Mrs MOTIIERLY.
Count Bas. Nay, if you are afraid of being Count Bas. I TELL you there is not such a fa- out of vour money, what do you think of going a mily in England for you. Do you think I would little with me, Mrs Motherly? have gone out of your lodgings for any body that Moth. As how? was not sure to make you easy for the winter? Count Bas. Why, I have a game in my hand,
Moth. Nay, I see nothing against it, sir,- in which, if you'll croup me, that is, help me to but the gentleman's being a parliament-man; play it, you shall go five hundred to nothing. and when people may, as it were, think one im- Moth. Say you so? Why, then, I go, sir-and pertinent, or be out of humour, you know, when now. pray let's see your game. a body comes to ask for one's own
Count Bas. Look you, in one word, my cards Count Bas. Pshaw! Prithee never trouble lie thus -When I was down this summer at thy head: bis pay is as good as the bank-Why, York, I happened to lodge in the same house he has above two thousand a-vear.
with this knight's lady, that's now comjoy to Moth. Alas-a-day, that's nothing ! your peo- lodge with you.
Moth. Did you so, sir?
upon the four aces, are liable, sometimes, you Count Bas. And sometimes had the honour to know, to have a wheel out of order; which, I breakfast, and pass an idle hour with her confess, is so much my case at present, that my
Moth. Very good; and here, I suppose, you dapple greys are reduced to a pair of ambling would have the impudence to sup and be busy chairmen. Now, if, with your assistance, I can with her.
whip up this young jade into a hackney-coach, I Count Bas. Pshaw! prithee, hear me. may chance, in a day or two after, to carry her,
Bioth. Is this your game? I would not give in my own chariot, en famille, to an opera. Now, sixpence for it. What! you have a passion for what do you say to me? her pin-inoney. -No, no; country ladies are Moth. Why, I shall not sleep for thinking of not so flush of it!
it. But how will you prevent the family smokCount Bas. Nay, if you won't have patience-ing your design?
Bloth. One had need to have a good deal, I Count Bas. By renewing my addresses to the am sure, to hear you talk at this rate. Is this mother. your way of making my poor niece, Myrtilla, Moth. And how will the daughter like that, easy?
think you? Count Bas. Death! I shall do it still, if the Count Bas. Very well-whilst it covers her woman will but let me speak
own affair: Moth. Had you not a letter from her this Moth. That's true- -it must do
as you say, one for t'other, sir; I stick to that Count Bas. I have it here in my pocket_this if you don't do my niece's business with the son, is it [Shews it, and puts it up again. I'll
blow you with the daughter, depend upon't. Moth. Ay; but I don't find you have made Count Bas. 'Tis a bet-pay as we go, I tell any answer to it.
you, and the five hundred shall be staked in a Count Bas. How the devil can I, if you won't third hand. hear me?
Moth. That's honest
-But here comes my Moth. What! hear you talk of another woman ! niece. Shall we let her into the secret ?
Count Bas. Oh, lud! Oh, lud! I tell you, I'll Count Bas. Time enough; may be I may make her fortune- -Ounds, I'll marry her! touch
it. Moth. A likely matter ! If you would not do
Enter MyrtilLA. it when she was a maid, your stomach is not so sharp sct now, I presume.
Moth. So, niece, are all the rooms done out, Count Bas. Hey-day! why, your head begins and the beds sheeted? to turn, my dear! The devil! you did not think I Mlyr. Yes, madam; but Mr Moody tells us, proposed to marry her myself?
the lady always burns wax in her own chamber, Mloth. If you don't, 'who the devil do you and we have none in the house. think will marry her?
Moth. Odso! then I must bey your pardon, Count Bas. Why, a fool
Count; this is a busy time, you know. Moth. Humph! there may be sense in that,
[Erit Mrs MOTHERLY. Count Bas. Very good-one for t'other, then. Count Bas. Myrtilla, how dost thou do, child? If I can help her to a husband, why should you Myr. As well as a losing gamester can. not come into my scheme of helping me to a wife? Count Bas. Why, what have you
lost? Aloth. Your pardon, sir. Ay, ay; in an ho- Myr. What I shall never recover; and, what's nourable affair, you know you may command me. worse, you, that have won it, don't seem to be But, pray, where is this blessed wife and husband much the better for it. to be had ?
Count Bas. Why, child, dost thou ever see any Count Bas. Now, have a little patience-You body overjoyed for winning a deep stake six must know then, that this country knight and his months after 'tis over lady bring up in the coach with them their eldest Myr. Would I had never played for it! son and a daughter, to teach thein to wash their Count Bas. Psha! hang these melancholy faces, and turn their toes out.
thoughts! We may be friends still. Moth. Good
Myr. Dull ones. Count Bas. The son is an unlicked whelp, Count Bas. Useful ones, perhaps-suppose I about sixteen, just taken from school; and begins should help thee to a good husband ? to hanker after every wench in the family: the Myr. I suppose you'll think any one good daughter, niuch of the same age, a pert forward enough, that will take me off your hands. hussy, who, having eight thousand pounds left Count Bas. What do you think of the young her by an old doting grandmother, seems to have country 'squire, the heir of the family that's coma devilish mind to be doing in her way, too. ing to lodge here?
Moth. And your design is to put her into busi- Myr. How should I know what to think of ness for life?
him? Count Bas. Look you—in short, Mrs Motherly, Count Bas. Nay; I only give you the hint, we gentlemen, whose occasional chariots roll only child. It may be worth your wbile, at least, ta
look about you-Hark! what bustle's that| Enter Sir Francis, SQUIRE RICHARD, and without?
Sir Fran. Well, Count, I mun say it, this was Moth. Sir, sir! the gentleman's coach is at the koynd, indeed. door; they are all come.
Count Bas. Sir Francis, give me leave to bid Count Bus. What! already?
you welcome to London. Moth. They are just getting out! -Won't Sir Fran. Psha ! how dost thou do, mon?you step and lead in my lady? Do you be in the Waunds, I'm glad to see thee! A good sort of way, niece; I must run and receive them.
a house this. [Exit Mrs MOTHERLY. Count Bas. Is not that Master Richard ? Count Bas. And think of what I told you. Sir Frun. Ey, ey, that's young Hopeful-Why
[Exit Count. dost not baw, Dick? Myr. Ay, ay; you have left me enough to Squire Rich. So I do, feyther. think of as long as I live-A faithless fellow ! Count Bas. Sir, I'm glad to see you-I proI am sure I have been true to him; and for that test Mrs Jane is grown so, I should not have only reason he wants to be rid of me. But, while known her. women are weak, men will be rogues; and, for a Sir Frun. Come forward, Jenny. bane to both their joys and ours, when our vanity Jenny. Sure, papa ! do you think I don't know indulges them in such innocent favours as make how to behave myself? them adore us, we can never be well, till we Count Bas. If I have permission to approach grant them the very one that puts an end to her, Sir Francis. their devotion-But here comes my aunt and the Jenny. Lord, sir! I'm in such a frightful company.
Count Bas. Every dress that's proper must Mrs Motherly returns, shewing in LADY become you, madamyou have been a long WRONGHEAD, led by Count Basset.
journey. Moth. If your ladyship pleases to walk into Jenny. I hope you will see me in a better tothis parlour, madam, only for the present, till morrow, sir. your servants have got all your things in.
[LADY WRONGHEAD whispers Mrs MOTHERLady Wroi Well, dear sir, this is so infinite- LY, pointing to MYRTILLA. ly obliging-I protest it gives me pain, though, Moth. Only a niece of mine, madam, that to turn you out of your lodging thus.
lives with me: she will be proud to give your Count Bas. No trouble in the least, madam; ladyship any assistance in her power. we single fellows are soon moved. Besides, Mrs Lady Wrong. A pretty sort of a young woman Motherly's my old acquaintance, and I could not -Jenny, you two must be acquainted. be her hindrance.
Jenny. Oh, mamma, I am never strange in a Moth. The Count is so well bred, madam, I strange place.
[Salutes MYRTILLA. dare say he would do a great deal more to ac- Myr. You do me a great deal of honour, macommodate your ladyship.
dam-Madam, your ladyship’s welcome to LonLady Wrong. Oh, dear inadam !-A good, don. well-bred sort of a woman,
Jenny. Mamma, I like her prodigiously; she :
[ Apart to the Count. called me my ladyship. Count Bas. Oh! madam, she is very much Squire Rich. Pray, mother, mayn't I be acamong people of quality: she is seldom without quainted with her, too? them in her house.
Ludy Wrong. You, you clown ! stay till you Lady Wrong. Are there a good many people learn a little more breeding first, of quality in this street, Mrs Motherly?
Sir Fran. Od's heart, my lady Wronghead! Moth. Now your ladyship is here, madam, I why do you baulk the lad? how should he ever don't believe there is a house without them. learn breeding, if he does not put himself for
Lady Wrong. I am mighty glad of that; for, ward? really, I think people of quality should always Squire Rich. Why, ay, feyther; does mother live among one another.
think 'at I'd be uncivil to her? Count Bas. 'Tis what one would choose, in- Myr. Master has so much good-humour, madeed, madam.
dam, he would soon gain upon any body. Lady Wrong. Bless me! but where are the
He kisses MYRTILLA. children all this while ?
Squire Rich. Lo' you there, mother; an you Moth. Sir Francis, madamn, I believe, is taking would but be quiet, she and I should do well care of them.
enough. Sir Fran. (Within.] John Moody! stay you Lady Wrong: Why, how now, sirrah! boys by the coach, and see all our things out-Come, must not be so familiar. children.
Squire Rich. Why, an' I know nobody, bow Iloth. Here they are, madam,
the murrain mun I pass my time here in a strange
place? Naw, you and I, and sister, forsooth, I looks to be a power of um in this tawn-but sometimes, in an afternoon, may play at one-and-heavy Ralph is skawered after him. thirty bone-ace purely.
Sir Fran. Why, let him go to the devil! no Jenny. Speak' for 'yourself, sir; d'ye think I matter an the bawnds had had him a month agoe. play at such clownish games?
but I wish the coach and horses were got Squire Rich. Why, and you woant, yo' ma' let safe to the inn! This is a sharp tawn; we mun it aloane; then she and I, mayhap, will have a look about us here, John; therefore, I would bawt at all-fours, without you.
have you go along with Roger, and see that noSir Fran. Noa, noa, Dick; that won't do, nei- body runs away with them, before they get to the ther; you mun learn to make one at ombre, here, stable. child.
J. Moody. Alas-a-day, sir, I believe our awld Myr. If master pleases, I'll shew it him. cattle won't yeasly be run away with to-night
Squire Rich. What! the Humber! Hoy-day! but howsomdever, we's take the best care we can why, does our river run to this tawn, feyther? of um, poor sawls.
Sir Fran. Pooh! you silly tony! ombre is a Sir Frun. Well, well! make hastegeam at cards, that the better sort of people play
(Moody goes out, and returns. three together at.
J. Moody. Ods flesh! here's measter Monly Squire Rich. Nay, the moare the merrier, I come to wait upo' your worship! say; but sister is always so cross-grained
Sir Fran. Wheare is he? Jenny. Lord! this boy is enough to deaf peo- J. Moody. Just coming in at threshould. ple-and one has really been stuffed up in a Şir Fran. Then goa about your business. coach so long, that-Pray, madam, could
[Erit Moody, not I get a little powder for my hair? Myr. If you please to come along with me,
Enter MANLY. madam. Ereunt MYRTILLA and JENNY. Cousin Manly! Sir, I am your very humble ser
Squire Rich. What, has sister taken her away, vant. naw! mess, I'll go and have a little game with Man. I heard you were come, sir Francisthem.
[Erit after them. andLady Wrong. Well, count, I hope you won't Sir Fran. Odsheart! this was kindly done of so far change your lodgings, but you will come, you, naw. and he at home here sometimes?
Man. I wish you may think it so, cousin! for Sir Fran. Ay! ay! pr’ythee come and take a I confess, I should have been better pleased to bit of mutton with us, naw and tan, when thou'st have seen you in any other place. paught to do.
Sir Fran. How soa, sir? Count Bas. Well, sir Francis, you shall find Man. Nay, 'tis for your own sake; I am not. I'll make but very little ceremony,
concerned. Sir Fran. Why, ay now, that's hearty!
Sir Fran. Look you, cousin; thof I know you Bloth. Will your ladyship please to refresh wish me well, yet I don't question I shall give yourself with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? Iyou such weighty reasons for what I have done, chiuk I have pretty good.
that you will say, sir, this is the wisest journey Lady Wrong. If you please, Mrs Motherly; that ever I made in my life. but I believe we had best have it above stairs. Man. I think it ought to be, cousin; for I be
Moth. Very well, madam; it shall be ready lieve you will find it the most expensive oneimmediately.
[Erit MRS MOTHERLY. your election did not cost you a trifle, I suppose. Lady Wrong. Won't you walk up, sir?
Sir Fran. Why, ay ! it's true! That—that did Sir Fran. Moody!
lick a little; but if a man's wise, (and I han't Count Bas. Shan't we stay for Sir Francis, ma- fawnd yet that I'm a fool) there are ways, coudam!
sin, to lick one's self whole again. Lady Wrong. Lard ! don't mind him: he will Man. Nay, if you have that secret come, if he likes it.
Sir Fran. Don't you be fearful, cousin-you'll Sir Fran. Ay! ay! ne'er heed me I have find that I know something: things to look after.
Man. If it be any thing for your good, I should [Ereunt Lady WRONGIEAD and Count be glad to know it, too. BASSET.
Sir Fran. In short, then, I have a friend in a
corner, that has let me a little into what's what, Enter John Moody.
at Westminster-that's one thing. J. Moody. Did your worship want muh? Man. Very well! but what good is that to do
Sir Fran. Ay; is the coach cleared, and all you ? our things in ?
Sir Fran. Why not to me, as much as it does J. Moody. Aw but a few band-boxes, and the other folks? nook that's left o'the goose poy-But, a plague Man. Other people, I doubt, have the advanon him, th' monkey has gin us the slip, I think- tage of different qualifications. I suppose he's goon to.scc his relations; for here Sir Fran. Why, ay! there's it, naw! you'll