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COSTUMES,

SIR EDWARD MORTIMER.-Black velvet slashed jacket, trimmed with silver

buttons and silver lace, white satin vest, buff tights, handsomely trimined, crim

son scarf, russet boots, point lace collar, and ruffles. FITZIARDING.-Crimson velvet doublet, trunk, and cloak, slashed with white

satin, and trimmed with silver bell buttons, velvet hat, and white ostrich feathers, point lace collar, grey hairs-red hose, russet shoes, and rosettes, belt, sword, and

walking cane. WILFORD.-Buff tunic and pantaloons, russet boots, black cap and feathers,

broad black belt, and brass buckle, plain collar. ADAM WINTERTON.--Black cloth doublet, trunks, and cloak, trimmed with

black ribbon, black cap, point iaee collar, long grey hairs, black cloth shoes, white

worsted bosc. RAWBOLD.-Leather doublet, brown cloak and trunks, grey hose, large russet

boots, broad belt and buckle, brown flap hat, and collar. SAMSON.- First dress : Brown doublet and trunks, red hose, russet shoes, red wig.

Second dress : Yellow doublet, trunks, and cloak, hat to match, trimmed with red

and blue binding-collar. BOY.-Brown tunic and trunks, belt, grey hose, hat to match. PETER, WALTER, SIMON, and GREGORY.-Red doublets, trunks, and hose,

russet shoes-collars. ARMSTRONG-Light brown tunic and trunks, trimmed with red and black, flesh

ings, hat to match, with black feathers, breastplate, pistols, carbine, sword, chain,

and collar, russet boots. ORSON.-Dark brown ditto, without pistols or carbine. FIRST ROBBER.-Dark grey ditto, trimmed with black, &c. SECOND, THIRD, and FOURTH ROBBERS.-Stone colour--dark blue-dark

green, ditto.

ROBBER'S BOY.-Brown tunic, &c.
HELEN.-White satin, trimmed with point lace and silver, white silk stockings,

white satin shoes, hat, and ostrich feathers. BLANCH.-Black velvet body, pink petticoat, pointed black hat, the whole trim

med with point lacc, and black and blue ribbon, point lace apron. DAME RAWBOLD.--Flowered gown, white night cap, white kerchicf, check spron. BARBARA -Light blue stuff petticoat, with black binding, black body, white

korchief and apron, red hose, black shoes. MARGARET.-Flowercd chintz gown, rod petticoat, check apron, coloured ker.

chief, black shoes, JUDITH.--Bottle-green petticoat and jacket, trimmed with red binding, long hair,

red hose, black shoes. CHILDREN.-Brown tunics, &c.

CAST OF CHARACTERS.

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Covent Garden, 1796. Drury Lane, 1816. Park, 1845. Sir Edw'd Mortimer Mr. Kemble. Mr. Kean.

Mr. C. Keap. Fitzharding.. “ Wroughton,

Powell.

Vache, Wilford..

" Bannister, jun. Wallack. Mrs. C. Kean. Adam Winterton.

Dodd.

Munden.

Mr. Fisher. Gilbert Raubold. Barrymore.

Holland.

De Waldon. Samson Rawbold...

Suet.
u Harley.

G. Andrews. Boy

Master Welsh. Master Tibutt.
Peter
Mr. Banks.

Mr. Evans.
Walter.

“ Maddocks. Simon. 6 Webb.

4 Heath, Gregory

Trueman.
Winton.

M.Douall. Armstrong " Kelly.

T. Cooke.

$. Pearson. Orson ..

Palmer.

Palmer.

" Barry. First Robber “ Dignum.

Cookc.

Gallot. Second Robber... " Sedgwick.

4 J. Smith, Third Robber....... Bannister.

Miller.

" Gourlay. Fourth Robber....

Smith, Robber's Boy........ Master Webb. Master Phillips.

Master King Helen Miss Farren. Mrs. Horn.

Mrs. Abbott Blanch.. Mrs. Gibbs,

• Dyott. Dame Rawbold. Miss Tidswell.

4 King.

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Orger.

Maddocks. Barbara Rawbold.... Signora Storace.

T. Cooke.

Wilkins. Margaret...

4 Horribow. Miss De Camp.

Harlowe. Miss F. Gordon. SCENE.-The New Forest in Hampshire, and on its Borders.

Judith ......

EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. moans Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 8. E. Second Entrance; V. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door.

RELATIVE POSITIONS. R., means Right; L., Left; C., Centre; R. C., Right of Centre; L. C., Left of Centre.

N.B. Passagus marked with Inverted Commas, are usually omitted in the

representation.

THE IRON CHEST.

ACT 1.

SCENE I.-The Inside of Rawbold's Cottage-a narrow

staircase in the back, L.-a door, R. F.-- table, R. C., on which a taper is burning the whole scene exhibits

poverty and wretchedness. Several Children, squalid and beggarly, discovered in different parts of the Room, some asleep, 1.-Dame Raw. BOLD seated, leaning over the embers of the fire-BARBARA seated near her Samson standing in the front, R. C.

GLEE.
Sam. Five times, by the taper's light,

The hour-glass I have turned to-night. . Boy.

Where's father? Sam. He's gone out to roam:

If he have luck,

He'll bring a buck
Upon his lusty shoulders home.

Different Voices.
Home ! home!

He comes not home!
Hark! from the woodland vale below,
The distant clock sounds dull and slow,

Bome! bome! bome! Sam. (R.) Five o'clock, and father not yet returned from New Forest ! An he come not shortly, the sun will rise, and roåst the venison on his shoulders. [Calling.) Sister Barbara! Well, your rich men have no bowels for us lowly: they little think, while they are gorging on the fat: haunch of a goodly buck, what fatigues we poor honest souls undergo in stealing it! Why, sister Barbara ! Bar. (Rising and coming forward, L. c.) I am here, brother Samson.

Sam. Here!—Marry, out upon you for an idle baggage !- Why, you crawl like a snail. Bar. I

pr’ythee, now, do not chide me, Samson ! Sam. 'Tis

my

humour. I am father's head man in his poaching: the rubs I take from him, who is above me, I hand down to you, who are below me. 'Tis the way

of office, where every miserable devil domineers it over the next more miserable devil that's under him. You

may scold sister Margery, an you will; she's your younger by a twelvemonth.

Bar. Truly, brother, I would not make any one unhappy for the world: I am content to do what I can to please, and to mind the house.

Sam. Truly, a weighty matter! Thou art e'en ready to hang thyself for want of something to wile away time. What hast thou much more to do than to trim the faggots, nurse thy mother, boil the pot, patch our jackets, kill the poultry, cure the hogs, feed the pigs, and comb the children ?

Bar. Many might think that no small charge, Samson.

Sam. A mere nothing; while father and I (bate us but the mother and children,) have the credit of purloining every single thing that you have the care of. We are up early, and down late, in the exercise of our industry.

Bar, I wish father and you would give up the calling. Sam. Nó: there is one keen argument to prevent us. Bar. What's that, brother ?

Sam. Hunger. Wouldst have us be rogues, and let our family starve ? Give up poaching and deer-stealing! Oons ! dost think we have no conscience ? Yonder sits mother, poor soul! old, helpless, and crazy.

· Bar. Alas! brother, 'tis heart-aching to look upon her. This very time three years she got her maim : it was a piteous tempest !

Sam. Ay, 'twas rough weather.

Bar. I never pass the old oak that was shivered that night in the storm, but I am ready to weep: it remembers me of the time when all our poor family went to ruin.

Sam. Pish! no matter : the cottage was blown down, the barn fired, father undone. Well, landlords are flintyhearted—no help; what then ?--We live, don't we?

Bar. Troth, brother, very sadly.

Father has grown desperate-all is fallen to decay; we live by pilfering on the forest, and our poor mother distracted, and unable to look to the house. The rafter which fell in the storm struck so heavy upon her brain, I fear me 'twill never again be settled. The little ones, too, scarce clothed hungry-almost starving! Indeed, we are a very wretched family.

(A knock at the cottage-door, R. F. Sam. Hark! methought I heard a tread.

(He opens the door, R. B.

Enter RAWBOLD, L.
Raw. (c.) Bar the door ; 80-softly!
Sam. (R. C.) What success, father?
Raw. Good : my limbs ache for't. How you stand
The chair, you gander !

Sam. [To Barbara.] Why, how you stand !—The chair, you gander.

(They bring forward a chair-Rawbold sits, c. Raw. Here, take my gun—'tis unscrewed. The keepers are abroad; I had scarce time to get it in my pocket. (He pulls the gun from a pocket under his coat, in three pieces, which Samson screws together while they are talking.] Fie ! 'tis sharp work! Barbara, you jade! come hither.

Sam. Barbara, you jade! come hither.

Raw. Who bid thee chide her, lout? Kiss thy old father, wench-kiss me, I say !-So.-Why dost tremble ? I am rough as a tempest; evil fortune has blown my lowering nature into turbulence; but thou art a blossom that dost bend thy head so sweetly under my gusts of passion, 'tis pity they should ever harm thee.

Bar. (L.) Indeed, father, I am glad to see you safe returned.

Raw. I believe thee. Take the keys; go to the locker in the loft, and bring me a glass to recruit me.

[Exit Barbara, L. V. E. Sam., Well, father, and som Raw. Peace !--I ha' shot a buck.

Sam. Oh, rare! Of all the sure aims on the borders of the New Forest here, give me old Gilbert Rawbold; though I, who am his son, say it, that should not say it. Where have you stowed him, father ?

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