Nelly. Wisely said.

Peter. And another for telling me who I am. Well, I think that is as well worth a guinea as the other.

Nelly. Better, I should imagine.

Peter. Yes, better. Well, good-bye, good woman. I'll be sure to be here.

Nelly. Fail not, or you'll repent it. (Exit Peter.) The gudgeon takes the bait kindly. Peter, Peter, you had always an immense swallow. When Sally Stone nursed him, she was forced to feed the little cormorant with a tablespoon. As far as I can see, notwithstanding his partnership education with the young Squire, I think the grown babe should be fed with spoon-meat still. But what dainty lasses are these that come this way? Lucy and Miss Etheridge—how fortunate!

Enter Agnes and Lucy.

Lucy. There is the woman; so, if you are inclined to hear her nonsense, you must wait the Sibyl's pleasure.

Agnes. I hope she will not keep us long, or my brother will arrive before we return. (Nelly advances.)

Nelly. Save you, fair lady! which of you will first look into futurity?

Lucy. This young lady. (Pointing to Agnes.)

Nelly. Then you must retire out of hearing.

Agnes. No, no; I have no secrets from her. She must stay.

Nelly. That cannot be, my art will be useless, and I decline the task.

Lucy. Yield to her mummery, it can make no difference.

Agnes. Well, then, Lucy, don't go far away.

Lucy. I'll be out of hearing, but not out of sight.

[Lucy retires, and amuses herself in collecting flowers.

Nelly. Your name is Agnes.

Agnes. (laughing). I know that; and I am the daughter of Sir Gilbert of the Hall. Come, I'll help you, good woman.

Nelly. I did not say the last.

Agnes. What do you mean?

Nelly. I only said that your name was Agnes.

Agnes. Well, and I told you more than you knew.

Nelly. The stars reveal not what you assert.

Agnes. Well, then, I do; so I know more than the stars.

Nelly. You are wrong. You know not so much. You are not what you think you are.

Agnes. In the name of wonder, what do you mean?

Nelly. I have said it. Let me see your hand. Your fate is a dark one! Poor young lady! You will be crossed in everything.

Agnes. (laughing faintly). Love included, I suppose. Shall I not marry the man of my affections?

Nelly. If he is more generous than men usually are.

Agnes. I cannot understand you.

Nelly. There is a dark cloud hanging over your fate. The storm will soon rage. Poor young lady!

Agnes. You almost frighten me. Speak more intelligibly.

Nelly. I have said enough. Agnes Bargrove, fare thee well!

Agnes. (astonished). Agnes Bargrove! what can she mean? Good woman, will you not tell me more?

Nelly. Go home, you will soon hear more from others. (Aside.) The wound is given; let it fester. (Nelly retires.)

Agnes. Lucy, Lucy! (Lucy advances.)

Lucy. Dear Agnes, how confused you are! What can be the matter?

Agnes. (much flurried). I can hardly tell. The woman was so strange. I was a little surprised—that's all. (Recovering herself.) Now, Lucy, it's your turn. (Nelly comes forward.) There, good woman, is your money. (Nelly shakes her head, and refuses it.) How very strange! Come, Lucy, let her tell your fortune, and then we'll go home.

Lucy. Nay, Agnes, I have no curiosity.

Agnes. I insist upon it, Lucy. I will not be the only foolish one. I shall retire until you call me.

Lucy. Well, then, as you please. I know my fortune but too well. (Sighs.) [Agnes retires.

Nelly. (looking Lucy earnestly in the face for a time). You are perhaps come here for amusement. In olden times there were many false prophets; but still, some of them were true; so, in these days, there are many who pretend to our art, but really few who do possess it. Do you take this for a mocking matter?

Lucy. Why, really, good woman, I will not promise to believe all you may say, but I shall be glad to listen to it.

Nelly. I thought as much. But were I to tell you what is known only to yourself, would you then credit my asserted powers?

Lucy. I should certainly feel more inclined.

Nelly. There are marks upon your person known but to yourself.

Lucy. 'Tis very possible.

Nelly. Can you recollect them?

Lucy. (smiling incredulously). Can you describe them?

Nelly. To prove my power before I read your destiny, I will. You have a large mole beneath your right shoulder. (Lucy starts.) You have a scar on your instep by falling over a sickle in your infancy. Nay, more. (Nelly whispers her.)

Lucy. Merciful heavens!

Nelly. Are you satisfied?

Lucy. I'm a little frightened.

Nelly. So much to prove that I am no impostor. Now, let me see your hand. (Lucy holds out her hand trembling.) You have lost your fortune, and your rank in society—but you will soon regain them. The cloud is dispersing from before the sun of your happiness. Sweet girl, I wish thee joy!

Lucy. What mean you?

Nelly. Others will tell you soon. There are two in the secret, Nelly Armstrong and Martha Bargrove.

Lucy. My mother!

Nelly. No, not your mother. I said, Martha Bargrove. (Lets go her hand.) Lucy Etheridge, fare thee well. [Exit Nelly.

Lucy. O God! Agnes, Agnes! (Agnes runs up to her.)

Agnes. My dear Lucy, has she frightened you too?

Lucy. O yes! indeed she has. Let us go home, Miss Agnes, I am so unhappy.

Agnes. So am I, Lucy. I wish we had never seen the odious woman.

[Exeunt ambo, arm in arm, crying.

Act II. Scene I.

A Drawing-room in the Hall.

Enter Captain Etheridge, Captain Mertoun, and William.

Will. Sir Gilbert be within gunshot, Captain Edward, and I'll make sail after him. I think he have the gardener in tow.

Capt. Eth. You will oblige me, William. How are you, my good fellow? You look dull; what's the news here?

Will. Why, Mr Edward, mortal bad. There be a misfortune happened in the family this morning.

Capt. Eth. Not to my father, I trust?

Capt. Mer. Not to Miss Etheridge?

Will. No; it be, Mr Edward, that Sir Gilbert have given me warning, and I have a month's law to find another berth.

(Captain Etheridge and Mertoun look at each other, and laugh.)

Capt. Eth. Well, William, I think I can doctor that.

Will. I'se afraid not, Mr Edward, for the Admiral be superseded—has hauled down his flag, and I'd as soon have my discharge as not. (Putting his finger to his nose.) A woman be at the bottom of all mischief.

Capt. Eth. You observe, Mertoun, how things are managed here. Now if any difference or dispute arise between my father and mother, do you immediately espouse the cause of the lady. Recollect, I'll bear you harmless.

Capt. Mer. I am guided by you; but I'm going to observe—

Enter Sir Gilbert.

Adm. My dear Edward, welcome again to your inheritance!

Capt. Eth. Thanks, my dear father. Allow me to introduce to you my most particular friend, Captain Mertoun, of our regiment.

Adm. Sir, you have the welcome of a father who loves all whom his children love.

Capt. Mer. Sir Gilbert, I am indeed flattered by your kind expressions.

Enter Lady Etheridge.

Capt. Eth. My dear mother, permit me to renew my duty.

Lady Eth. Edward, I have been a martyr to painful anxiety and maternal sentiment; but my sighs are accomplished now that I embrace my only son. (Turning to Mertoun, and curtseying haughtily.) Your friend?

Capt. Eth. My friend is Captain Mertoun, who is most anxious to pay his homage, and I trust will find favour in the sight of Lady Etheridge.

Capt. Mer. That were indeed anticipating bliss. (Bowing very low.)

Lady Eth. Captain Mertoun, you may approximate our kindly feelings.

Capt. Mer. Lady Etheridge, I duly appreciate the distinction. (Aside to Etheridge.) Why don't you ask after your sister?

Capt. Eth. Where is my sister Agnes, my dear mother? How is it that she is not here to receive her brother?

Lady Eth. Indeed, Edward, I am ashamed to say that, forgetful of her aristocratic birth, she has permitted herself to be seduced by bad company.

Adm. (aside). Whew! now for a breeze!

Capt. Eth. Bad company. Did I hear rightly? Surely, my lady——

Lady Eth. I have said it, Edward; and I am sorry to add, that the admiral eggs her on. O pardon, Captain Mertoun, the plebeian slip of the tongue! I mean to say corroborates the mesalliance.

Capt. Mer. (aside to Etheridge) For Heaven's sake, ask her to explain.

Capt. Eth. What would you infer, my lady? Surely my sister cannot so far forget herself, much less my father approve of such conduct.

Adm. Edward, this bad company is—Lucy Bargrove.

Lady Eth. Yes, Sir Gilbert, I am sorry to retort before strangers; but just as you have confessed, it is even so. My daughter has formed an unequal connection, and, and dissipates her rank among unequal associates.

Capt. Eth. I am truly glad that it is no worse, my lady.

Lady Eth. What can be worse, sir? Rank is rank; but your father has absorbed notions which disgrace his baronetage.

Adm. Lady Etheridge, if I never disgrace my title by any other act, I shall be proud of the manner in which I have supported it. (Aside.) I won't give up this point if I can help it.

Lady Eth. You hear, Edward—I am quite cagged—I am all confusion—stigmatised, I mean, by his conduct. His infatuation is quite adulterous!

Capt. Eth. (aside). Now, Mertoun, coincide with her. Never mind me or my father.

Lady Eth. Did you speak, Captain Mertoun?

Capt. Mer. I did, my lady, but venture to express to Captain Etheridge my admiration of the elegance and elevation of your sentiments.

Adm. (aside). What the devil does he interfere for? confounded puppy.

Lady Eth. Captain Mertoun, I conceive at once that you are of Oh tone. I am sorry that family squabbles—pardon the low word—Captain Mertoun, we cannot touch pitch without being defiled—(looking at Sir Gilbert.)

Adm. Sorry you ever meddled with a tar.

Lady Eth. I am grieved, Captain Mertoun, that domestic fractions should be promulgated on our first meeting, and feel much prepossession for your corroboration of the Admiral's folly.

Capt. Mer. I cannot but assert that his conduct is most indefensible. Sir Gilbert, allow me to take the privilege of an early friend, and to express my regret at your infatuation, and my hope that you will be swayed by superior judgment.

Adm. Sir, I am much obliged to you for your friendly and polite interference. Does your friend stay dinner, Edward?

Lady Eth. Admiral, assuredly. I trust that Captain Mertoun will do us the honour of taking many dinners with us. At present, Captain Mertoun, you will excuse me; but when you are at leisure, I do not say that I will show you the grounds, as Sir Gilbert would have expressed himself; but I shall, as we of the Oh tone say, be most happy to be your cicero. [Exit Lady Etheridge.

Adm. (angrily to Captain Mertoun.) And pray, sir, what do you mean by offering your opinion so confounded freely, and disapproving of my conduct?

Capt. Eth. My dear father, you must blame me, and not him. Let us retire to your library, and I will explain everything. You will find that Captain Mertoun has no other object in view than the happiness of all parties.

Adm. Then I can tell Captain Mertoun, that interfering between man and wife is not the way to secure his own.

Capt. Mer. Your son will soon offer a satisfactory explanation. It is most true that the liberty I have taken with you is most essential to my happiness.

Adm. (going up and lifting his cane). The devil it is! but not to all parties, Captain Mertoun; and I am sorry to say this to any friend of my son's—but you are a d——d impudent puppy, and I expect satisfaction.

Capt. Eth. That you shall have, sir, from me, who requested Captain Mertoun to follow that line of conduct. Do me the favour to retire to the library.

Adm. You requested him to insult your father? I am not so old as to be insulted with impunity; and I hope, as you are a party, that the explanation will be satisfactory. (Walks about in a rage.) Captain Mertoun, you'll excuse us. There are the grounds, and as you have been so very assiduous to fall out with me, you may be equally so to fall in with Lady Etheridge. (Bowing in derision very low, then exit, attended by Captain Etheridge.)

Capt. Mer. Well, this is excellent, that a man, who is henpecked till he has not a decent feather left, should be jealous about such a woman. But I feel assured that Etheridge will make all right. I shall take the advice of the old gentleman, and walk about the grounds, perhaps, as he says, I may fall in with Lady Etheridge and improve my acquaintance. [Exit.

Scene II.

The Gipsy encampment in the wood.

Nelly comes forward.

Nelly. Lady Etheridge, you spurned me! you chased me from your doors! what! shall humanity in any shape be worried by your pampered dogs? when youth was fresh upon our brows, our steps light upon the green, and our hearts still more light with innocence, had then the Lady Etheridge more admirers than the poor outcast gipsy, Nelly Armstrong? Have you forgotten your origin, proud lady of the Hall? Had his partial eyes fallen upon me when Sir Gilbert chose his wife from among the cottage maidens, and you, proud lady, had come hungry and in rags to my door, should I have unslipped the hounds upon your cry for charity? No, no, no! You have given insult—expect retaliation. But here comes one of my instruments. Unbend, Eleanor Armstrong, from this lofty carriage, and be again the miserable—the cheating gipsy.

Enter young Bargrove.

Nelly. A fine morning, most fortunate sir.

Peter. Well, my good woman, have you found it out?

Nelly. What, youth of a brilliant horoscope, do you mean the starlit mystery? It is revealed, but the planets have been very cross. I watched—and watched—and watched—

Peter. Well, and what did you discover?

Nelly. The discovery, sir, is precious. Golden, sir, golden! A guinea! it is worth twenty!

Peter. A bargain's a bargain. There's your guinea (Takes out his purse and gives money.) And now, let me have my value for it.

Nelly. I cast a trine through the rays of Saturn, and placing a quadrature upon his seventh house, I travelled wearily through the heavens; and, at last, this afternoon, at about thirty-five minutes, forty-nine seconds, after the hour of three, I discovered that your mother was wet nurse to both Sir Gilbert's children.

Peter. Miraculous! and so indeed she was!

Nelly. You were born at nearly the same time as Captain Etheridge, and was put out to nurse to one Sally Stone. I discovered all about this nursing and suckling in the milky way.

Peter. Did the stars there tell you all this? wonderful!

Nelly. Yes, and a great deal more. But first promise me, if your fate is no sordid one, you will not yourself be sordid; for now comes the great secret. Money, sir, money for the prophetess. Suppose, now, I should prove you a gentleman of ten thousand a year; what would you give me then?

Peter. Give you! another guinea—perhaps two. (Holding up his purse.) Ten thousand a year! I would give you the whole purse.

Nelly. (laying hold of one end of the purse.) Then listen to me—you were changed at nurse. You are the son of Sir Gilbert Etheridge of the Hall!

Peter. The son of Sir Gilbert Etheridge! and changed by the nurse!

Nelly. Why don't you clasp your hands, turn up your eyes, and thank the stars, that have gained for you your patrimony?

Peter. So I will (Clasps his hands, and lets the purse go, Nelly pockets it.) But what nurse changed me?

Nelly. Why, Mrs Bargrove to be sure, who nursed you, and put her own son in your place.

Peter. Infamous old woman! but how is this possible?

Nelly. The stars have said it.

Peter. My stars?

Nelly. Yes, yours.

Peter. But how am I to prove this?

Nelly. There again I can assist you. Did you never hear of a girl called Nelly Armstrong?

Peter. To be sure—she nursed my sister, that is, she nursed Lucy Bargrove. A sad reprobate was Nelly——

Nelly. Reprobate in your teeth, young man! Speak of that person with the utmost respect; for 'tis she that will appear and divulge the whole. She was the accomplice of Mrs Bargrove; but you must lose no time; challenge Mrs Bargrove, and she may confess all. Then hasten to Lady Etheridge, and flinging yourself into her arms, sob out upon her bosom that she is your mother.

Peter. Excellent! it will be quite moving. I think a white handkerchief looks most interesting.

Nelly. I hope, when your honour comes to your property, you won't forget the gipsy woman.

Peter. Forget you, good woman! no, that I won't. You shall have a right of encampment here, and permission to rob any tenants upon the estate. Leave me.

[Exit Nelly, curtseying several times to the ground.

Peter solus (strutting up and down). Well, I knew that I was a gentleman born, I knew I was (rubbing his hands). Why, what a shameful trick of the old woman. But I'll make her confess directly. And then—and then—I'll pardon her; for she has been very kind to me, that's certain. Sir Peter Etheridge with ten thousand a year! O! it will sound well. "Pray," says the traveller from London to one of my tenants, "whose superb mansion is that?" "Sir Peter's." Ha! ha! ha! "And that fine equipage?" "Sir Peter's." He! he! he! "And that beautiful lady all over jewels?" "Sir Peter's." Ho! ho! ho! Lucky, lucky Sir Peter! Hum! ha! I'll turn old Bargrove off for his impudence—that's decided; and I must cease to be cheerful and familiar. Melancholy—melancholy is your only gentlemanlike bearing, as Shakespeare says. [Exit.]

Scene III.

A room in the Hall.

Enter Agnes, with her bonnet in her hand. She sits down, musing.

Agnes. I never was so unhappy before; for that gipsy woman has raised doubts and fears which overwhelm me. Lucy, too, has been told something that affects her deeply. She never spoke during the whole way home, and seemed glad to get rid of me as she ran into her father's house. If this should be true (and why raise such a report without foundation? no one could be so wicked), what a discovery. At all events, until the truth be ascertained, I shall be miserable. Heigho! I anticipated so much pleasure in meeting my brother and Captain Mertoun. Now, what am I to do? If he were to—to—offer to——(cries). It would be so unhandsome, knowing this report, to say "Yes" (sobs), and so unkind to say "No!" O dear! I'm very miserable.

Enter Sir Gilbert.

Adm. Why, Agnes, the servants have been out everywhere seeking you. For shame! to be out of the way when you know that your brother was coming. Edward is much hurt at your indifference. Why, what's the matter, child? You appear to have been crying! My dear girl, what has vexed you? See, here they both come.

Enter Captain Etheridge and Mertoun.

Capt. Eth. My dear Agnes! (Agnes runs up to him, embraces him, and then bursts into tears). Why, what is the matter, my dear sister?

Agnes (hanging on her brother's neck). O! I am so rejoiced to see you!

Capt. Eth. (kisses her). You look the personification of joy! But, Agnes, here is one whom you have met before. Is it necessary to introduce Mertoun? (Captain Mertoun advances.)

Agnes. O no! (curtseying formally to Captain Mertoun, who offers his hand.)

Capt. Mer. (confused, and apart to Captain Etheridge). Good heavens! I must have displeased her!

Capt. Eth. (aside). Impossible. I do not comprehend it.

Capt. Mer. I am most happy to renew our acquaintance, Miss Etheridge, under the sanction of your parents' roof.

Agnes (inclining her head). I shall always be most happy to receive my brother's friends.

Adm. Agnes, my love, the heat has overpowered you. You have hastened home too fast. Come out with me. You'll be better soon. [Exeunt Sir Gilbert and Agnes.

Capt. Eth. What can it be? She is certainly distressed.

Capt. Mer. Her reception of me is, indeed, very different from what I had anticipated from the manner in which we parted. I must say, that either her conduct is very inconsistent, or her memory very treacherous.

Capt. Eth. Nay, Mertoun, it is some time since you met; and then, not under the auspices of her father's roof. Make some allowances for maidenly reserve.

Capt. Mer. Still I must say I am both mortified and disappointed.

Capt. Eth. I can feel for you; but knowing her generous character, I do not hesitate to take up her defence. Something presses heavily on her mind; what, I cannot surmise. But I will see her and find it out. Till then, wear your willow as gracefully as you do your laurels, and construe nothing to your disadvantage. This I ask in justice.

Capt. Mer. You may with confidence.

Capt. Eth. But here comes Lady Etheridge; now will I hasten to Agnes, and leave you to pay your court. Though you have already made a sufficiently favourable impression, yet still remember my injunctions.

Enter Lady Etheridge.

Lady Etheridge, my sister has just quitted the room far from well. If you will permit me, I will inquire after her, leaving Captain Mertoun to cultivate your acquaintance. [Exit Capt. Etheridge.

Capt. Mer. An honour, madam, I have long courted.

Lady Eth. O sir! if your leisure is now, as it were, unoccupied, I should be most happy to be your cicero. There are such grounds——

Capt. Mer. (ogling Lady Etheridge). For admiration, when I cast my eyes that way.

Lady Eth. The quintessence of politeness, I declare. This way, sir.

Capt. Mer. The arm of the humblest of your slaves.

(Offering his arm.)

Lady Eth. Infinitely honoured.

[Exeunt ambo, ceremoniously, and mutually complimenting each other in dumb show.

Scene IV.

A Drawing-Room at the Hall.

Enter Sir Gilbert and Captain Etheridge.

Capt. Eth. Well, my dear father, where is Agnes?

Adm. She has been here just now; she appears to be much distressed about something. She will return directly.

Capt. Eth. What can have annoyed her?

Adm. That I don't know. Perhaps my Lady Etheridge. She wishes her to break off with Lucy Bargrove, but that I will resist—that is—that is—as much as I can.

Capt. Eth. My dear father, why do you submit to such tyranny? You, that have led fleets to victory, to be governed by a woman! A little firmness on your part would soon relieve you from your thraldom, and bring my mother to a proper sense of her duties.

Adm. (shaking his head). Too late—too late, Edward.

Capt. Eth. Never too late, sir. Take courage for once, and I'll answer for the success. With all respect to my mother, bullies are always cowards.

Adm. Why, really, Edward, your advice is good; and, as I must always keep up a running fight, I don't see why we shouldn't have a general action.

Capt. Eth. Bravo, sir, a decisive engagement to your honour, if you only bring decision into play. I agree with you, in respect to Lucy Bargrove, heartily.

Adm. Edward, this girl has been so long with me, and has so entwined herself about my heart, that I cannot bear that she should be used ill. Your sister is fond of her, and I dote upon her.

Capt. Eth. Why, yes, sir, I acknowledge that she is a nice girl, but still, there is a line to be drawn. You would not, for instance, like to see her my wife.

Adm. Indeed but I would, Edward, for your own sake. You would have a fair prospect of matrimonial bliss. Talking about marriage, Edward, I again repeat, if, as you say, the happiness of Agnes depends upon her union with Mertoun, from the character you have given him, I shall raise no objections; but, as I do think in the disposal of her children, the mother has some claim to be consulted, I suppose he must be permitted to follow up your plan, rather a novel one, of bearding the father to gain the daughter.

Capt. Eth. You forget, sir, that you are to have a general action, and then it will be no longer necessary.

Enter Captain Mertoun.

Here comes Mertoun.

Adm. True, true, I forgot that. Well Captain Mertoun, I hope you have found amusement.

Capt. Mer. I have, sir, been walking with my lady, who has just gone into her room to take off her bonnet.

Enter Lady Etheridge and Agnes.

Lady Eth. I am quite exhausted with my pedestrian performance. (Captain Mertoun hands a chair, she sits.) Sir Gilbert, I am sorry to request that you will reprove your daughter for disobedience, for, notwithstanding my command of this morning, I find that she has again visited Lucy Bargrove. You say that you have no objection, but I tell you it shall not be, so there is an end of the matter, and of the discussion; and I insist upon it, Admiral, I insist that you give her a proper lecture in my presence. Now, Sir Gilbert.

Capt. Eth. (aside). Now, sir, this is your time, we'll support you.

Adm. My dear Lucy is concerned—I don't feel that I want any support. Agnes, your mother has expressed her disapprobation at your visit to Lucy Bargrove.

Agnes. My dear father!

Adm. And I don't agree with your mother.

Lady Eth. Sir Gilbert!

Adm. I consider Lucy Bargrove a very amiable, good girl. I am partial to her, and have no objection to your visiting her whenever you please.

Lady Eth. (more loudly). Sir Gilbert!

Capt. Eth. (aside). Excellent, Sir Gilbert.

Adm. I repeat again, Agnes, that so far from agreeing with, I totally disagree with Lady, and, in this matter, I will not allow her to interfere in future. I intend to be master of my own house!

Lady Eth. (screaming). Sir Gilbert!!!

Capt. Eth. (aside). The day's our own.

Adm. (angrily). Yes, my lady, master of my own house! and expect humility and submission on your part. (Softening). Although I never shall forget that I have advanced you to the dignity of Lady Etheridge.

Lady Eth. Captain Mertoun! Captain Mertoun! Oh! Oh! will nobody assist me? Oh! lead me to my room.

Adm. Edward, help your mother to her room, Captain Mertoun will assist you. [Exeunt Lady Etheridge, Captains Mertoun and Etheridge. Manent, Sir Gilbert and Agnes.

Adm. I have, my dear Agnes, as you perceive, made a resolution to be no longer second in my own house, but your good sense will point out to you, that your mother deserves your respect.

Agnes. My dear father, I have never believed otherwise; but still I must rejoice at what has taken place, as I am convinced it is for her happiness, as well as for your own.

Adm. Come, dear, let us take a walk; I feel rather excited. No wonder, this being firm is one of the most unsteady feelings imaginable, for I have no sooner come to a resolution of making a stand, than I find my head running round consumedly. [Exeunt.

Scene V.

A parlour in the homestead. Enter Dame Bargrove.

Mrs Bar. Well, I wonder whether Mr Bargrove intends to come home to-day. I never knew a man work so hard for his employer. He is an honest man, I will say that, and there are not many wives who are in their husband's secrets can say the same. Aye, and he's no poor man either. His own property to nurse, and twenty years' service with a liberal master have made him independent, and our boy and girl will be none the worse for it. Well, it has been fairly and honourably earned, and there are few who can count so much and say the same. I wish Peter were not so idle and thoughtless. It frets his father very much. Here he comes, and I'll try if I can't reason with him.

Enter Peter Bargrove with great consequence.

Mrs Bar. Well, Peter, have you seen your father?

Peter. I have not yet communicated the important intelligence.

Mrs Bar. Why, what's the matter with the boy? important intelligence!

Peter. I had forgot. She is still unaware of my discovery. Hem! (walking up to his mother.) good woman! look me full in the face.

Mrs Bar. Good woman! Mercy on us, Peter! Is it thus you address your mother?

Peter. My mother! I tell you to look in my face.

Mrs Bar. Look in your face? Well, sir, I do look in your face; and a very foolish face you're making of it. Are you mad?

Peter. Mad! no, Mrs Bargrove, I'm not mad, but I've discovered all.

Mrs Bar. All!

Peter. Yes, all. Down on your knees and confess.

Mrs Bar. Confess! confess what? Down on my knees too? Why, you ungracious boy, what do you mean?

Enter Mr Bargrove, unperceived, who stands aside.

Peter. What do I mean? Confess your enormous guilt—the wicked trick that you played me in my infancy.

Mrs Bar. Dear me, dear me, my child is out of his senses.

Peter. Madam, I am in my senses, but I am not your child. Woman, you know it.

Mrs Bar. (weeping). O dear, O dear!

Peter. Tell me, will you confess at once, thou infamous——

[Old Bargrove comes forward, and knocks Peter down with his cudgel.

Old Bar. I can't stand it any longer. What do you mean, you rascal, by calling your mother infamous?

Peter (rubbing his head, and getting up slowly). 'Tis well—'tis very well I had resolved before to turn you away; now you may expect the severest chastisement. Take warning this moment, you old——

Old Bar. (lifting up his cudgel). You old what?

Peter. I'll swear the peace against you. Take care what you are about. This is a violent assault, you know; and you don't know him you are beating.

Old Bar. Don't I?

Peter. No, you don't—but I'll tell you. This woman changed me at nurse, and I can prove it. I—yes—I, humble as I stand here, with my head broken also—am no less than Peter Etheridge—the young Squire!

Old Bar. Look at the almanac, dame. Is the harvest moon at full? He's mad, indeed!

Peter. I am not. Mrs Bargrove, where is your accomplice, Nelly Armstrong? You see I know all. (Mrs Bargrove weeps, but makes no answer.) I say again confess all, and then, perhaps, I may pardon you, and let your husband keep his place.

Old Bar. Keep my place, and so you are Peter Etheridge, are you?

Peter. I am, and she knows it well.

Old Bar. Well, but I don't. I only know you as my foolish son, Peter Bargrove, and so long as you are so supposed to be, I shall not permit you to insult your mother. So, Mr Peter, I'll just take the liberty of giving you a little wholesome chastisement, which I hope may prove beneficial.

[Old Bargrove beats Peter round the room, while Mrs Bargrove tries to prevent him.

Peter. I'll tell my mother, Lady Etheridge! that I will. I'll go directly.

[Peter runs off. Mr and Mrs Bargrove sit down. Mrs Bargrove sobbing.

Old Bar. (panting). The scoundrel!

Enter Lucy, in her bonnet, from walking.

Lucy. Good Heavens, father, what was all that noise? Mother, why, what is the matter?

Old Bar. Matter enough; here's your brother Peter gone out of his senses. But I have rubbed him well down with this cudgel.

Mrs Bar. (crying). He's mad, Lucy, quite mad! Called me an infamous old woman, and said that I changed him at nurse. He will have it, that he is Peter Etheridge.

Lucy (confounded). Good heavens! how strange! (Aside) I hardly know what to think. That gipsy's knowledge—and now my brother—where could he have obtained similar information?—yet it cannot be, she is too good a woman.

Old Bar. What do you say, Lucy?

Lucy. Nothing, father.

Old Bar. Did you ever hear of such conduct?

Lucy. He must have been told so, or he never would have been so violent.

Old Bar. So violent! who could have told him such a falsehood? or who would have believed it for a moment, but a fool like him?

Mrs Bar. How could he have known anything about Nelly Armstrong?

Lucy. Nelly Armstrong! Did he mention her name?

Mrs Bar. Yes; he asked me where she was, and says, that she was my accomplice.

[Lucy remains in thought.

Old Bar. Lucy, why don't you comfort your mother? One would think you were leagued with Peter.

Lucy. I, father!

Old Bar. Yes, you—you are not yourself. Pray have you heard anything of this before? (Lucy silent.) Answer me, girl, I say, have you before heard anything of this?

Lucy. I have.

Old Bar. And pray from whom?

Lucy. From a strange quarter, and most strangely told. I am not well, father. [Lucy bursts into tears, and Exit.

Old Bar. (after a pause, looking his wife earnestly in the face). Why, Dame Bargrove, how is this? Lucy is not a fool, and she is evidently of the same opinion as Peter. (Walks up and down the room, and betrays much agitation.) Dame, dame, if, for foolish love of thine own children, and I see that thou lovest the other two, as well, if not better than, these—if, I say, thou hast done this great wrong, down on thy knees, and confess it! Guilt can never prosper, and reparation must be made.

Mrs Bar. (throwing herself on her knees before her husband). On my knees, husband, I swear to you, before God, that these children, Peter and Lucy, were born to me, and are the fruits of our marriage. May I never prosper in this world, and lose all hope of mercy in the next, if I speak not now the truth.

Old Bar. (taking up his wife and kissing her). I do believe thee, dame, thou hast ever been honest; but there is mischief brewing, and we must find out who are the authors of this report. Come, cheer up! All will be discovered, and all will be well.

[Exeunt ambo; Old Bargrove leading off and caressing Mrs Bargrove.

Act III. Scene I.

A wood.—Enter Bill and Dick.

Dick. Well, Bill, what do ye say to it—will it do?

Bill. Can't tell—been thinking on it all night. Don't much like the consarn. There be too many on 'en.

Dick. Yes, and there be a mortal lot of plate, Bill, all kept in the butler's pantry. I met a servant at a public-house, who is going away, a sea chap, drinking malt like a fish, and I wormed all out of him. I think it be an easy job. The butler be fat and pursey. The Admiral be old and toothless.

Bill. That's all right, so far, Dick; but then there be the two young officers just come down.

Dick. Yes, but I finds that they sleep quite t'other end of the house altogether; and d'ye see, Bill, the plate be only left out because they be come to the Hall. When they're off, the best of the pewter will be all locked up again; so, it's no use to wait till they start off. Come, what d'ye say, Bill? Jack and Nim be both of my mind. I see'd them this morning.

Bill. (thoughtfully). It be hanging matter, Dick.

Dick. Why, yes—so it be, if so be as we be found out first, and caught arterwards—and then go to 'sizes—and then a true bill be given—and then we be found guilty, and arter all, gets no reprieve; but there be as many a slip between the noose and the neck, as there be 'tween the cup and the lip.

Bill. Well, Dick, I tell ye what, I've no objection to stand outside, and help carry off.

Dick. That be all we wants. One must look to the nag and cart, and that one must be you. Gie's your hand on it. [They shake hands.

Bill. But I say, Dick, does Nelly know the business in hand?

Dick. Not yet.

Bill. I've an idea she won't allow it. I heard her talk summit about conscience—or the like of it.

Dick. Talk about fiddlesticks. Show her the pewter and she'll snap her fingers. Here she comes. I'll let her into the gammon.

Enter Nelly.

Nelly. Well, lads; what's in the wind?

Dick. Summit worth sneezing at, Nell. We are up to a rig to-night. Got a bit of a frolic for pewter.

Nelly. Aye, boys, where?

Dick. At the Hall here.

Nelly. It won't do.

Dick. Yes, but it will though.

Nelly. Yes it will do for you (pointing to her neck). I know the Hall well. It must not be thought of.

Dick. But we have thought on it, and will think on it. We be all determined, so there be an end of the matter, and an end of your palaver.

Nelly. I say no!

Dick. None o' your gammon—pewter arn't to be picked up in the highways. The thing be settled.

Nelly. Think no more on it.

Dick. You mind your own business, missus. Go and tell fortunes to fools and women; leave men alone.

Nelly. I can tell your fortune. A dance in the air till you are out of breath.

Dick. Didn't require a wise woman to find out that. (Aside.) But we must keep our eyes upon her—she's queer. (Aloud.) Come Bill. [Exeunt Bill and Dick.

Nelly sola.

Am I so fallen, never to recover? Must I sink deeper and deeper with these villains? Since I joined them they have never yet attempted anything like this. Petty theft, to support existence, I have participated in, but nothing more. Can I retreat? Ah, when I look upon these hills, and remember the time when I roved here, careless, innocent, and happy, how often do I wish that I could retrace my steps! Yonder is the church where I used to pray. How long is it now since I have dared perform that sacred duty? Yet, how often, since I have returned to this spot, have I longed to fall upon my knees! But I am an outcast. Pride and vanity have made me so, and pride has reduced me so to remain, although I loathe myself, and those connected with me. This intention of theirs has, however, resolved me. The deed shall not take place. I will, by some means, warn them at the Hall—a letter, but how to get it there? It shall be done, and done directly. They can but murder me if I am discovered, and what is my life now?—a burden to myself. [Exit.

Scene II.

An Ornamental Shrubbery near the Lodge of the Hall.

Enter Peter Bargrove.

Peter. What a stupid old woman not to confess, after the stars had told the truth! As to old Bargrove, I will have my revenge upon him. Beat me! me, Sir Peter's heir to the property! How confounded strong he is! the old brute! Out of respect to his age, I did not strike him again; but I should like to see, just like to see the next man who will venture to lay his stick across my back. Now I'll to the Hall, and make myself known to Lady Etheridge. How affected she will be! I'll lay my life there will be a scene. Who comes here? O, the fictitious heir to the property, Captain Bargrove, as he will find himself in a very short time. I must hold myself rather high; it will prepare him, as it were, for the bad news. Poor fellow!

Enter Captain Etheridge and Mertoun, from the gates of the Lodge.

Capt. Eth. (holding out his hand). Hail! Peter, my good fellow! how are you all at home?

Peter. (turning away, and folding his arms). Pretty well, Captain.

Capt. Mer. (aside). I say, Etheridge, that's a dead cut; who is your friend?

Capt. Eth. (astonished). What's the matter now? I think, Mr Peter, when I offer my hand, it is not very courteous in you to refuse it.

Peter. (ostentatiously). Property, Captain, is property. You'll allow that. My hand is my own, and I have it in possession. You'll allow that. But there is other property, which at present is not in my possession, but which you will allow to be hereafter. (Aside.) That's a hard hit.

Capt. Mer. Property is property, Etheridge, and to judge by his manners, your friend must have an excess of it in possession.

Capt. Eth. Property is property, but I doubt if my friend has much of it in possession.

Peter. No, but I hope to have.

Capt. Eth. Well, I hope so too. But what's the matter with you, Peter?

Peter. Excessively familiar!

Capt. Mer. Upon my word, Etheridge I wonder at your patience. Who is the brute?

Peter. Brute, sir, did you say brute?

Capt. Mer. Yes, sir, I did.

Peter. Then, sir, if you say brute, I beg to observe to you, sir, that—that——

Capt. Mer. What? Well, sir!

Peter. That, sir, a brute is a beast, sir——

Capt. Mer. Exactly.

Peter. And if that's what you meant, there's no offence. Now, if you say brute beast——

Capt. Mer. Well, sir, I do say so.

Peter. You do—you do say so? Well, then, sir, allow me to tell you, in very positive terms, sir, that you have been guilty of—of tautology.

Capt. Mer. Your friend is very harmless, Etheridge.

Capt. Eth. I am aware of that; but still I was not prepared for this impertinence, considering the obligations he is under to my family.

Peter. Obligations, sir, what obligations? Do you refer to the advantages that you had in being educated with me?

Capt. Eth. I have ever considered the reverse; and that it was you who had the advantages, had you had sense enough to profit by them.

Peter. Now, observe, there's your mistake.

Capt. Eth. to Capt. Mer. The fool is mad.

Peter. Mad, Captain what's your name?

Capt. Eth. Captain what's-your-name, Peter, don't stand insult.

Peter. There is no insult. I repeat again, Captain what's-your-name. Do you know your name?

Capt. Eth. to Capt. Mer. Why, he's as mad as a March hare.

Capt. Mer. Yes, but not so hot as a Welsh rabbit.

Peter. A rabbit—that's a boroughmonger! Now I ought to take that up, it is a downright insult; but perhaps he did not mean it. Captain what's-your-name, I tell you a secret; you don't know your own name, no, nor you don't know your station in life.

Capt. Eth. I'm sure you forget yours, Mr Peter. How long has this change taken place?

Peter. Ask your nurse. (Aside.) That was a hard hit; he must smell a rat now.

Capt. Eth. Ask my nurse!

Capt. Mer. Ask your granny, Etheridge; upon my soul, it's as good as a play.

Capt. Eth. To the audience, perhaps; but I feel rather inclined to be in earnest. Hark you, Mr Peter, do you know I am very particular in payment, and always give every man his due.

Peter. That's it exactly. All that I wish is, that you would give me mine; but if you don't—I shall oblige you, depend upon it.

Capt. Mer. I rather expect he will, Etheridge, if he goes on much longer.

Peter. Thank you for taking my part. That's handsome. Perhaps you will persuade him to do me justice.

Capt. Mer. If you had been in my hands, I should have done you justice long before this.

Peter. "There's virtue still extant," as the play has it. Sir, as you have joined my side, I'll permit you to shake hands with me.

Capt. Mer. O certainly! we always do preparatory to a set-to. Now, then, take my advice—on your guard!

Peter (aside). Now I don't fear him. (Aloud.) Captain what's-your-name, shall I tell you your fortune?

Capt. Eth. O certainly! you look like a conjuror.

Peter. It is your fortune, sir, to be under the baleful influence of the stars, Georgium Sidum and Copernicum. In a few days you will find your name to be Bargrove, and you will have to change situations with me.

Capt. Eth. Indeed!

Peter. Yes, Captain Bargrove, so it is. A wicked woman changed us in our cradles; but the secret is come out, and evidence is at hand. You must return to obscurity, whilst I emerge from mine. The stars will have it so. Your fortune's told.

Capt. Eth. Nonsense! the fool has been imposed upon. Now, Mr Peter, I'll tell your fortune.

Peter. I thank you. It has been already told to my satisfaction.

Capt. Eth. Nevertheless, it must be told again, although, perhaps, not to your satisfaction. Mr Peter, I can put up with folly, but never with impertinence. Mars and Saturn are about to be in strong opposition, and heavy Saturn will soon jump about like Mercury. The stars will have it so.

Peter. I don't comprehend that.

Capt. Eth. It shall be explained. You, Peter Bargrove, have been excessively insolent to me, Edward Etheridge; in consequence, I shall now take the liberty of giving you a little wholesome correction. [Seizes Peter by the collar.

Capt. Mer. Don't use violence to the natural. He offends more in ignorance than malice.

Peter. Thank you, sir. I see that you are a well-behaved gentleman. O sir! sir! 'tis a vile, ungrateful world. I intended to do something for that young man. (Captain Etheridge shakes him.) Why, yes, I did. I not only intended to allow you forty pounds a year, but to do what would be more agreeable to your sister Agnes.

Capt. Eth. Agreeable to Miss Etheridge! What do you mean, sir?

Peter. Mean—why, I'm not quite sure—recollect, I don't promise; but I was thinking of marrying her. (Captain Mertoun flies at him, and seizes him by the collar on the other side. They both shake him violently.)

Capt. Eth.} {my sister, } } You marry { } you scoundrel! Capt. Mer.} {Miss Etheridge, }

Capt. Mer. (letting him go). I am sorry that I was provoked to lay hands on him. Etheridge, I'll leave his chastisement entirely to you.

Peter. Thank you, sir; I always thought ye were on my side. I suppose that was a mistake just now.

Capt. Mer. I certainly had no right to interfere between you and Captain Etheridge.

Capt. Eth. (still holding Peter by the collar). But, Mr Peter, we do not part yet. You may have made your peace with Captain Mertoun, but not with me. How dare you insult me thus?

Peter. I insult you! (To Captain Mertoun.) Arn't you of my side?

Capt. Mer. (laughing). Yes; if you are knocked down, I, as your second, will help you up again, no more.

Peter. Well—but I'm not a nine-pin. Why not prevent him from knocking me down?

Capt. Mer. The stars won't permit that.

Capt. Eth. And the stars ordain this. (Lifting his cane.)

Peter. Captain Etheridge, one word; let go my collar, behave like a reasonable man, and I now promise, upon my word of honour, that I will elevate your sister to my—nuptial bed. (Captain Mertoun shakes his cane, and makes signs to Captain Etheridge to thrash him.)

Capt. Eth. I can bear no more. (Beats Peter round the stage.)

Peter. Oh! oh! My stars again. Why don't you help me, sir?

Capt. Mer. You are not down yet, Peter. (Captain Etheridge continues striking.)

Peter (throwing himself down, and panting). Now I am.

Capt. Mer. Yes, and now I may help you up. Then you may go at it again.

Peter. What! am I to have more of it if I am up?

Capt. Mer. I rather suspect so.

Peter. Then I prefer lying here. You need not wait, Captain Bargrove. I sha'n't get up this half-hour. (Rubbing his shoulders.)

Capt. Eth. You observe, Peter, I told you your fortune correctly. The stars would have it so. I hope, when next we meet, you will be a little more reasonable, and also a little more respectful. If not, I hold your fortune in my hands. (Holding up his cane.)

Peter. Didn't I tell you that you did? Why don't you return it like an honest man? As I said before, I'll make you an allowance.

Capt. Eth. That's more than I will for you, if I have any more impertinence. Come, Mertoun, he'll not come to time, that's clear.

Capt. Mer. No, nor to his fortune or title either, I'm afraid. Good morning, Peter. Ha! ha! ha!

Capt. Eth. Farewell, Sir Peter! Ha! ha! ha! [Exeunt Captains Mertoun and Etheridge.

Peter (sitting up). Come to time—nor to my title and fortune. Well, I hope they'll both come to the gallows. I thought of that as a repartee when they were here, but it was too good to be thrown away upon them. (Rises.) It is very odd that nobody will believe me when the facts are so plain. As Shakespeare says, the "ladder of my ambition is so hard to climb." I presume these are all the sticks I am to get up by. I'm almost tired of it already; but, however, after two misses comes a hit; and I'll try the last. Now to Lady Etheridge, discover myself to her, sob upon her bosom, as the gipsy foretold I should; and then if she is but on my side, why I defy all the men in the family. [Exit.

Scene III.

A parlour in the homestead.

Enter Old Bargrove and Mrs Bargrove.

Old Bar. Why, dame, I can make nothing out of it. I have questioned Lucy as closely as possible, and it appears that it was a gipsy woman who told their fortunes. But still, as Lucy told me the story, there is something very strange about it.

Mrs Bar. Lucy appears to take it very much to heart, poor thing!

Old Bar. She does, dame, but in the right way. She thinks of others, and not of herself. I tell you this, dame, if I thought that Lucy was not my daughter, it would almost break my heart.

Mrs Bar. She's a good girl, and content with her father and mother. I only wish that Peter was the same.

Old Bar. Peter was born a fool, dame, and he'll never be anything else. But I hope this may prove of service to him. I hear that he has already been up to the Hall.

Mrs Bar. Had we not better go there, too, Bargrove, and see Sir Gilbert, or they may suppose we be parties to the report.

Old Bar. Why should they, and who knows the report as yet?

Mrs Bar. O, everybody! I was told of it ten minutes back by Mrs Benson. She heard it of the footman, William. He says, that Captain Etheridge has given Peter a sound thrashing.

Old Bar. Did he? Then I am very much indebted to him. I'll tell you what, dame, I'll to the wood and find out this gipsy woman; and if threatening her with the stocks and Bridewell won't make her confess, I have a warrant in my pocket, just made out by the magistrates' clerk, for the apprehension of the gang, on suspicion of their stealing Mrs Fowler's turkey, and Farmer Groves' geese. We'll first see what can be done there; and then I'll come back, and we'll walk up to the Hall.

Mrs Bar. Do so, Bargrove; let us show that we've a clear conscience, at all events.

Old Bar. I'll be back in an hour, dame; I must go down to Wilson, the constable. [Exit old Bar.

Mrs Bar. I never was so put out in my life. That boy Peter's folly worries me to death. Who comes here? why, it's Captain Etheridge, I do declare. I am almost afraid to see one of the family now.

Enter Captain Etheridge.

Capt. Eth. My dear Mrs Bargrove, with your permission. (Kissing her.) I can't leave off my old habit of kissing my nurse. How are you, and your husband, and how is pretty Lucy?

Mrs Bar. Quite well, thank you, Mr Edward. Dear me, what a man you do grow!

Capt. Eth. If I am not a man at five-and-twenty, dame, I never shall be.

Mrs Bar. Five-and-twenty! dear heart! so it is—but time does fly fast! It appears to me but the other day that I had you in my arms. How does Miss Agnes to-day?

Capt. Eth. Not very well, dame, she has something to vex her. Indeed, there's a rumour flying about, and I've come down to speak with you and Lucy on the subject.

Mrs Bar. I know it all; but it's all false, Mr Edward, all stuff and nonsense from beginning to end. Bargrove has now gone to sift the matter. I'm sure I ought to know. A pretty trouble I've had about it; what with foolish Peter, even Bargrove himself spoke to me as if I could have been guilty of such an act.

Capt. Eth. What does Lucy think of it?

Mrs Bar. Lucy is more vexed than any of us. I really think, if she thought it true, that she would make away with herself.

Capt. Eth. What! at the idea of being Miss Etheridge! no cause that for suicide either.

Mrs Bar. No, not that, Captain Etheridge; but at the idea of rising in the world at the expense of those to whom she owes both love and gratitude. She's a good girl, Captain Etheridge.

Capt. Eth. I agree with you, dame, she's a very sweet girl. I wish to speak to her. Will you send her to me?

Mrs Bar. To be sure I will, Master Edward. She'll be glad to see you. She's always asking after you when you be away. [Exit Mrs Bargrove.

Capt. Eth. I did but say a few words to her on my arrival. I dared not trust myself with more. She looked so beautiful. I have not been able to drive her from my thoughts ever since. Heigho! the conflict between love and pride is well contested: nothing but opportunity can give the victory to the one, and absence to the other. The more I know of her, the more deserving she appears. I often try to find faults in her, but I cannot discover them. I suppose that I inherit all my pride from my mother; that I cherish it in preference to my happiness is clear. But should this report prove true. Such things have occurred, and this may have been done without the knowledge of Mrs Bargrove. Agnes and Lucy then change situations; and I with that cub, Peter Bargrove. Very pleasant indeed! the former is not of much consequence but to be jostled out of my supposed birthright by a booby!

Enter Lucy.

Capt. Eth. (going up to her and taking her by the hand). I took the liberty to request a few minutes' interview.

Lucy (smiling). Surely not a very great liberty with one whom you have known so long, and who is so very much indebted to your father.

Capt. Eth. Not so much as his children are indebted to your mother. But the object of my visit is, Lucy, to request that you will give me some information relative to a ridiculous report.

Lucy. I can, and I can assure you, Captain Etheridge, that I believe it to be without the shadow of a foundation. That Agnes and I were both taken by surprise at the moment, you must not wonder at; but on reflection, I am convinced that it is a fabrication. Indeed, the very idea is most injurious to the character of my mother.

Capt. Eth. I grant this; but the change may have taken place without the knowledge of your mother.

Lucy. It is possible, but barely possible, who but a foolish mother, blinded by partiality, would ever have been guilty of an act which never could benefit herself?

Capt. Eth. You are not well acquainted with the knavery of the world. To prove a fact like this, in a court of justice, would, in most instances, be rewarded liberally. Your brother, for instance, seems to view the affair in a very different light.

Lucy. Captain Etheridge, I can honestly assert, that the rumour has occasioned to me the greatest uneasiness; and were it to prove true, I should be still more unhappy.

Capt. Eth. I cannot understand you. You would find yourself raised to a position in society which you did not expect; courted by those who at present disregard you, and moving in a circle to which, I must say, your beauty and your other natural gifts would contribute to adorn.

Lucy. Do not flatter me. I have a great dislike to it. I am, I trust, satisfied in my present situation; and, were I weak enough to indulge a transient feeling of vanity, the reminiscence which would instantly intrude, that my advancement was founded on the misery of those I love better than myself, would render it a source of deep and unceasing regret.

Capt. Eth. Those you love better than yourself, Lucy; who are they?

Lucy (confused). I referred to your sister Agnes, and to your father.

Capt. Eth. O, not to me!—then I am an exclusion.

Lucy. My gratitude to your father for his kindness, and our intimacy from childhood, ought to assure you, Captain Etheridge, that——I must ever wish for your happiness.

Capt. Eth. But suppose, my dear Lucy, this should prove to be true.

Lucy. I have already stated my sentiments.

Capt. Eth. You have, Lucy, generally, and much to your honour; but I am just putting the case for my amusement. Suppose it were proved true, you would not look down upon me as the child of your inferiors?

Lucy. Captain Etheridge, the very observation, for your amusement, is both ungenerous and unkind. I acknowledge our present inferiority, but not perhaps to the extent which would be exacted from your family. But oblige me by not carrying your suppositions any further. (Tremulously.) I am not very happy—as it is.

Capt. Eth. Forgive me, Lucy, I did not intend to inflict pain. I am much too fond of you for that.

Lucy. Then why do you come here to make me miserable?

Capt. Eth. To make you miserable, my dear Lucy? I should, indeed, be a wretch, when my own happiness depends upon you. (Lucy starts.) (Aside.) It is out at last. Now there's no retreat in honour, and I thank heaven for it. (Aloud.) Did you hear me, Lucy? (Lucy appears fainting, Etheridge supports her.) Are you angry with me, Lucy? (She weeps.) I will confess to you honestly, that I have long struggled with my passion, but pride, ridiculous pride, has severely punished me for listening to its selfish dictates. Believe me, when I assert, that never was man more attached than I am to you. Answer me, Lucy, am I then indifferent to you?

Lucy. (separating herself gently from Captain Etheridge). I will be as candid as you have been. (Remains for a little time silent.) Whether you are indifferent to me or not, I must leave you to judge, from the effects of your communication; but I have also pride, and that pride never will allow me to enter a family against the wishes of those who have a right to be consulted on a question of such serious importance.

Capt. Eth. Only one question, Lucy. If my father consents to our union, will you be satisfied, without the concurrence of my mother?

Lucy. I should abide by the decision of my own father and mother; but, to confess the truth, I should not be satisfied.

Capt. Eth. Am I then to consider this as a mere act of duty, Lucy? Is there no feeling towards me?

Lucy. O yes! Why should I deny it? Indeed, Edward, if you could have read my heart for some time back, you would have found——

Capt. Eth. What, my dear Lucy?

Lucy. That your image has long occupied it—to its unhappiness.

Capt. Eth. As yours has mine. Now I trust they will cherish their inmates with delight. Farewell, my dearest Lucy; I hasten to my father, and I've an idea in my brain which may procure the completion of our wishes.

[They embrace. Exit Captain Etheridge.

Lucy. God give me strength, and make me sufficiently grateful! This was so unexpected. O Edward! Edward! you have opened such a vista of delight through the dark clouds that surrounded me, that I tremble as I gaze. How dreadful will be this suspense! Now am I arrived at the crisis of my fate. Either I am blessed beyond all hope, and all desert—or else—I die. [Exit.

Scene IV.

A room in the Hall. Enter William, showing in Peter Bargrove.

Will. Step in this room, Mr Peter, and I'll let my lady know that you are here. I say, Mr Peter, what can you want with my lady?

Peter (consequentially). That cannot concern you, sir, I should think.

Will. What's the matter now? Why, you used to be civil and genteel. I say, I suppose you have found a mare's nest.

Peter. Don't be saucy, sir; go and deliver your message to my lady.

Will. And if it warn't for my own sake, I wouldn't now. [Exit William.

Peter. We shall see some difference, I flatter myself, in their behaviour when they know who's who. How shall I address her? I never before dare speak to her, she is so haughty and proud. But she won't be so when she knows that I am her son. Pooh! I don't care for her now.

Re-enter William.

Will. My lady desires you to wait in the servants' hall till she sends for you. This way.

Peter. Indeed, I will not—I'll wait here.

Will. O, very well—just as you please; but you'll take the consequences. Recollect, I have delivered my lady's message.

Peter. You have—and you may go.

Will. Well, I suspect you be got a cloth in the wind, Mr Peter. [Exit William.

Peter. Means I'm drunk! Insolent fellow! I'll give him warning. I daresay my lady will be very angry till she knows the circumstances. Then the sooner I let it out the better (walks about). What care I. I'll be as brave as brass.

Lady Eth. (without). I'll be back directly.

Peter (fanning himself with his hat). O lud! here she comes. (Recovering himself). Who cares! Let her come.

Enter Lady Etheridge.

Lady Eth. You here, sir! I desired you to wait in the servants' hall.

Peter. Yes, my lady, you did—but—but—that is not a fit place for me.

Lady Eth. I am sure this room is not. Well, sir—what do you want?

Peter. Lady Etheridge, I have most important intelligence to communicate.

Lady Eth. Well, sir, let me hear it.

Peter. Lady Etheridge, prepare yourself for most unthought-of news.

Lady Eth. Will you speak out, fool?

Peter (aside). Fool! very maternal indeed. (Aloud.) If I am a fool, Lady Etheridge, why, all the worse for you.

Lady Eth. How, sir?

Peter. Yes, my lady, I think you'll treat me with more respect very soon.

Lady Eth. I shall order the servants to show you the door very soon.

Peter. If you do, my lady, I sha'n't go out of it.

Lady Eth. Insolent fellow, leave the room directly.

Peter. No, can't, upon my honour. (Aside.) How she'll beg my pardon for all this by-and-bye! It's really very pleasant. (Aloud.) I come, my lady, to communicate most important intelligence, but I want to break it to you carefully, lest you should be too much overcome with joy. Prepare yourself, my lady, for astounding news. You have a son!

Lady Eth. (Aside.) The fellow's mad. (Aloud.) Well, sir, what's that to you?

Peter. A great deal, my lady; you don't know him.

Lady Eth. What does the fool mean?

Peter. No, my lady, you don't know him. Him whom you suppose to be your son—is—not your son.

Lady Eth. (Startled.) Indeed!

Peter. Yes, my lady, but your son is not far off.

Lady Eth. Are you deranged?

Peter. No; quite sensible—hear me out. Dame Bargrove nursed that son.

Lady Eth. Well, sir!

Peter. And, Lady Etheridge, we have proof positive, that the wicked woman changed him.

Lady Eth. (screaming.) Changed him!

Peter. Yes, changed him for her own. Edward Etheridge is Edward Bargrove, and Peter Bargrove Peter Etheridge. My dear, dear mother! (Runs into her arms and kisses her repeatedly, notwithstanding her endeavours to prevent him.)

Lady Eth. (screaming.) Oh! oh!

[Peter leads her to a chair, and she goes into hysterics.

Peter. How very affecting.

Enter Sir Gilbert.

Adm. What's all this! Is Lady Etheridge ill?

Peter. A little overcome with joy, Sir Gilbert. It will be your turn next.

Adm. (Going to Lady Etheridge, who recovers.) What's the matter, my love?

Lady Eth. (spitting). O the wretch—the brute! He has taken liberties!

Adm. Taken liberties, the scoundrel! Pray, sir, what liberties have you taken with Lady Etheridge?

Peter. I only smothered her with kisses.

Adm. What do you mean, sir? Are you mad? Smothering her with kisses!

Peter. (smiling). I certainly did assume that privilege, Sir Gilbert.

Adm. Did you, you rascal? then I'll just assume another. (Thrashes Peter round the room.)

Peter. My father! O my honoured parent! Oh! your own son! Oh, your affectionate——

[Exit Peter, pursued by the Admiral.

Adm. (returning, puffing and blowing). Why, positively, the fellow is stark, staring mad.

Enter Agnes, Captains Etheridge and Mertoun.

Capt. Eth. What is all this disturbance, my dear father?

Adm. What is it, why, I hardly can tell. There has been an impudent scoundrel—that young Bargrove—kissing your mother till she has fainted, and swearing that he is my son. Called me his honoured parent—but I cudgelled the rascal!

Agnes. (leaning on Captain Etheridge's shoulder). O heavens!

Capt. Eth. The fellow himself has just now been trying to elbow me out of my birthright. However, I met his pretensions with the same argument as you did. Who could have put all this nonsense into his addled head so firmly, that two good cudgellings cannot beat it out?

Capt. Mer. Etheridge, your sister is unwell.

Capt. Eth. Don't be alarmed, my dear Agnes.

Agnes. Oh! but indeed I am—I expected this.

Adm. Expected this! Have you, then, heard anything, my love?

Agnes. Yes, I have indeed; just before my brother arrived I was told that my real name was Agnes Bargrove.

Adm. How very extraordinary! Who told you so?

Agnes. A very strange woman; but she appeared to know all about it. It has made me very unhappy ever since.

Adm. This must be inquired into. Where did you meet with her?

Agnes. In the lower wood. But Lucy can tell you more. Speak to her.

Lady Eth. I'm very ill. Lead me to my room.

[Exeunt Sir Gilbert and Lady Etheridge.

Cap. Eth. And I must away to unravel this deep-laid plot. Mertoun, I must leave you to take care of Agnes.

[Exit Capt. Etheridge.

Capt. Mer. A pleasing change, if I am not unwelcome. May I be permitted, Miss Etheridge, from a very great interest which I must ever take in the prosperity of your family—may I ask if you imagine there is any truth in this report?

Agnes. It is impossible for me to answer, Captain Mertoun. Why should such a report be raised without some foundation. True or not, I have ever since felt in a situation so awkward, that I fear my conduct may have appeared strange to others.

Capt. Mer. I must confess that your evident restraint towards me, so different from what perhaps my vanity induced me to hope, has been to me a source of wonder as well as regret. May I flatter myself that this rumour has been the occasion of an apparent caprice, which I never could have imagined that Miss Etheridge would have indulged in?

Agnes. You must be aware, Captain Mertoun, that I could not receive you as Agnes Etheridge until those doubts upon my parentage were removed. It would not have been honest.

Capt. Mer. And was this the only cause for your change of behaviour towards me, Agnes?

Agnes. Why—yes,—I believe so.

Capt. Mer. Now, then, let me declare that, whether you prove to be Agnes Etheridge, or Agnes Bargrove, those sentiments which I have felt towards you, and which have not hitherto been revealed excepting to your brother, must ever remain the same. For your own sake, and for the sake of Sir Gilbert and Lady Etheridge, who would deeply regret the loss of such a daughter, I trust that the report is without foundation. For my own part, I rather rejoice at this opportunity of proving the sincerity of my attachment. Let me but find favour in the sight of Agnes, and the surname will be immaterial.

Agnes. Immaterial, Captain Mertoun!

Capt. Mer. Yes, quite so; for I shall persuade you to change it as soon as possible, for my own. (Kneels.) Tell me, dearest Agnes——

Agnes. Tell you what?

Capt. Mer. Something that will make me happy.

Agnes. (smiling). Shall I tell you what the gipsy woman said when she told me my fortune?

Capt. Mer. Nay, do not trifle with me.

Agnes. (archly). I asked whether I should marry the person that I loved.

Capt. Mer. A very natural question.

Agnes. She replied, "Yes, if he is more generous than the generality of his sex." (Gives her hand.) Captain Mertoun, you have proved yourself so to be, and, since you offer to take Agnes, truly speaking, for "better or for worse," I will not keep you in suspense by disguising my real sentiments.

Capt. Mer. Dearest Agnes, you have indeed made me happy. (Embraces her.) I accompanied your brother, with the sole view of pleading my own cause. Imagine then my misery at your cruel reception.

Agnes. That you may not think me interested by my accepting your generous offer during this state of uncertainty, I will own how often I have thought of you, and how eagerly I looked for your arrival. Let us go now, Mertoun, and see whether Lady Etheridge is recovered.

[Exeunt arm in arm.

Scene V.

The wood. Enter Nelly.

Nelly. I have tried in vain to dissuade them to abandon their projects. They are preparing their instruments and their weapons. They have determined to attempt the Hall to-night. I have written this letter to Sir Gilbert, and, if I can find any one to convey it, the scoundrels will be taken and punished. If I cannot, I must contrive some means to escape to the Hall; but they suspect me, and watch me so narrowly, that it is almost impossible. What shall I do? There is somebody coming; it is that fool, Peter Bargrove. Then all is right. I will make use of him.

Enter Peter.

Your servant, fortunate sir!

Peter. Fortunate! why now ar'n't you an infamous hussy? Hav'n't you taken my purse and my money, for your intelligence that I was changed in my cradle,—and what has been the consequence?

Nelly. That everybody has been astonished.

Peter. I have been astonished, at all events. I have had so many cudgellings that I must count them with my fingers. First, a huge one from old Bargrove; secondly, a smart one from Captain Etheridge; and thirdly, a severe one from Sir Gilbert. What is the value of your good news if no one will believe it?

Nelly. Very true—but how could you expect they would?

Peter. Then what's the good of knowing it?

Nelly. You must know a fact before you attempt to prove it. You only bought the knowledge of me, you never paid for the proof.

Peter. No; but I've paid for the knowledge. (Rubbing his shoulders.) But didn't you say that Mrs Bargrove would confess?

Nelly. I thought it likely—but, if she won't, we must make her.

Peter. How?

Nelly. Bring evidence against her that will convict her, so that she will find it useless denying it.

Peter. But where is it?

Nelly. Here (holding out the letter).

Peter. Give it me.

Nelly. Stop, stop; you've not paid for it.

Peter. Upon my honour, I've not got a farthing in the world. I durst not ask either father or mother after the bobbery we've had. Indeed, I hardly know whether I dare go home and get my victuals, Won't you trust me?

Nelly. When will you pay me?

Peter. When I come to my title and estate.

Nelly. Well then, as I think you are a gentleman, I will trust you. Now observe, this letter is addressed to Sir Gilbert. It contains a statement of facts that will astonish and convince him. You must not trust it into other hands, but deliver it yourself.

Peter. He'll cudgel me.

Nelly. No, he will not. But, even if he did, would you mind a few blows for the certainty of being one day Sir Peter Etheridge?

Peter. No, hang me if I do. They might all cudgel me together, if they could cudgel me into the only son of a baronet of ten thousand a year.

Nelly. Well, then, as soon as you can, go boldly up to the Hall, and say to Sir Gilbert, "Sir Gilbert, in justice to yourself, read this letter, and do not despise the caution, as it is all true." You will then see the effect of it.

Peter. See—not feel. You are certain he won't be angry. Well, then, I will—in this case I'm in a great hurry as anybody. I can promise. So good-bye. [Exit.

Nelly. Now I think all is safe; but I must quit the gang or my life will be in danger.

Enter Old Bargrove, with Constable.

Oh, that I could recall the last twenty years! How wicked, how infamous have I become.

[Covers her face with her hands. Old Bargrove advances and taps her on the shoulder. Nelly starts.

Mercy on me!

Old Bar. You must not expect much. I believe you tell fortunes, my good woman!

Nelly. (curtseying.) Yes, sir, sometimes.

Old Bar. And steal geese and turkeys?

Nelly. No, sir, indeed.

Old Bar. Well, you help to eat them afterwards, and the receiver is just as bad as the thief. You must come along with me.

Nelly. Along with you, sir!

Old Bar. Do you see this little bit of paper? But, now I look at you, haven't we met before?

Nelly. Met before, sir!

Old Bar. Yes—hold your head up a little, either my eyes deceive me, or you—yes, I'll swear to it—you are Nelly Armstrong. Not quite so good-looking as you were when we parted. Now I understand all. Come, take her along to the Hall at once.

Nelly. Indeed, sir——

Old Bar. Not a word. Away with her, slanderous, lying, mischievous——[Exeunt omnes.

Scene VI.

A Drawing-Room in the Hall.

Enter Sir Gilbert and Captain Etheridge.

Adm. I love Lucy as my own daughter, and it often occurred to me how delighted I should be to receive her as such. But your mother's dislike to her is most unaccountable.

Capt. Eth. There is the difficulty which I am most anxious to surmount. I am afraid that, without my mother's concurrence, Lucy will never consent to enter into the family. She has pride as well as Lady Etheridge.

Adm. Yes, but of a very different quality; a proper pride, Edward; a respect for herself, added to a little feeling, to which she adheres in the decayed state of her family, which once was superior to ours.

Capt. Eth. If my mother could but once be induced to suppose that this rumour is correct, we might obtain her unwilling consent.

Adm. The report I believe to be wholly without foundation, and so I would, even if it were given against us in a court of justice.

Capt. Eth. My opinion coincides with yours. But my happiness is at stake, and I, therefore, shall not pause at a trifling deception, which may be productive of so much good. Will you assist me?

Adm. Why, Edward, can't you manage without me?

Capt. Eth. Not very well. Let me entreat you. I hear my mother coming.

Adm. Well, well—she is always asserting I deceive her when I don't—for once, I'll not be accused without a cause.

Enter Lady Etheridge; they pretend not to see her.

Capt. Eth. (Aside.) Now, sir. (Aloud.) The proofs are, indeed, too strong, my dear sir, to hope for any other issue, and I regret that we have all been so long and so cruelly deceived.

Adm. Well, Edward, I can only say, if you are not really my son, you will always be considered as such; for, whether your name be Etheridge or Bargrove, you must still look upon me as your father.

Capt. Eth. I thank you, sir; but there are circumstances over which you have no control. The title and estate must descend to the lawful heir; and that silly fellow, Peter, will in future claim the affections of yourself, and of my dear Lady Etheridge. It is on her account, more than my own, that I feel so much distressed.

Lady Eth. (coming forward). What is this that I hear? Is there then any foundation for that vile report? that hideous tale that turned the brain of that silly wretch? (The Admiral shakes his head in mournful silence.) Edward, will you not answer me?

Capt. Eth. I'm afraid that my answer will be most unsatisfactory. Madam, I had my doubts: indeed, I spurned the idea, until I called upon Lucy Etheridge—I believe I must call her now—and the proofs which she can bring forward.

Lady Eth. The hussy!

Capt. Eth. Nay, my lady, I must do justice to her. She is more inclined to conceal the facts than to disclose them. Her regard for my father, her profound respect for you, and a certain feeling of good-will towards me——

Lady Eth. Well, I am glad to see a little good sense in the girl; indeed, if the Admiral had not spoilt her——

Adm. Lady Etheridge, I have always felt towards that girl as my own daughter. It's very odd. Do you think, Edward, that this matter could not be hushed up?

Capt. Eth. I know but of one way, sir, which is, to sacrifice myself for the welfare of the family. I will do it—I may say, almost willingly.

Adm. How is that, Edward?

Capt. Eth. By a marriage with Lucy.

Lady Eth. Never!

Capt. Eth. Who will then, for her own sake, keep the proofs in her possession.

Lady. Eth. Never! never! I cannot consent to it.

Capt. Eth. May I ask, my dear Lady Etheridge, if you refuse me as your son, or is Lucy refused to me as your daughter?

Lady Eth. Oh!

Capt. Eth. And again, my dear madam, when you reflect, on the establishment of these facts by undoubted proofs, that booby, Peter, will have a right to claim your maternal kindness.

Lady Eth. Odious wretch!

Capt. Eth. To occupy that place in your affections which, hitherto, I have so proudly held, and must surrender with such deep regret.

Lady Eth. I would consent to—submit to anything, rather than that monster should dare to call me mother.

Capt. Eth. Yet so he will, madam, without you consent to the proposed arrangement. Lucy has always treated you with respect, and expressed the warmest gratitude for your protection; but, as for Peter, he will be more bearish and insolent than ever, again smother you with his nauseous kisses, and claim them as an offspring's right.

Lady Eth. I really feel quite ill again at the very idea. Save me from that, and I'll consent to anything.

Capt. Eth. Well, then, madam, have I your permission?

Enter William.

Will. Please, Sir Gilbert, here be Mr Bargrove, and Madam Bargrove and Miss Lucy, and the constables, and the malefactors, coming up to prove the whole truth of the consarn, to your's and my lady's satisfaction.

Lady Eth. I'll not see them. I must leave you.

Capt. Eth. Nay, madam, stay but one moment, and acquaint Lucy that you give your consent. She may not believe me.

Enter Old Bargrove, Lucy, Constables, and Nelly.

Old Bar. Your servant, my lady; your servant, Sir Gilbert. I've got the whole story out at last. I have brought up Lucy, who will prove the facts. My son Peter, I have sent after, and I took the liberty to tell the servant that Miss Agnes would be necessary.

Capt Eth. (leading up Lucy to Lady Etheridge). Lady Etheridge, will you honour us so far as to give your consent? (Lady Etheridge hesitates.) My dear madam, recollect the circumstances.

Enter Peter.

Adm. Come, Lady Etheridge, they have mine, and your's must not be refused.

Peter. Sir Gilbert, I am your's (seeing Nelly). Oh, you're here—then all's right, and so I don't care. (Advancing towards Lady Etheridge.) Lady Etheridge, my dear mamma, with your permission——

Lady Eth. (hastily joining the hands of Captain Etheridge and Lucy). Yes, Lucy, I consent. [Exit hastily.

Capt. Eth. Thank you, Peter, you never did me so good a turn in your life.

Peter. Sir Gilbert, in justice to yourself, read this, and do not despise the caution, for it is all true. (Gives the letter.)

Adm. How do you know? (Reads.) "Your house will be robbed this night—the parties are well armed and resolute. Take immediate precautions, and despise not this warning from one who has a sincere regard for you, and for your family."

Capt. Eth. A friendly caution, sir. It must be attended to. The favour is intended us by the gang of gipsies in the wood. Perhaps this woman may know something about it.

Old Bar. Like enough, for we have an old acquaintance here, who knows every part of the Hall. This is Nelly Armstrong, who nursed Lucy.

Mrs Bar. I'll swear to her, and it is she who has been the occasion of all this mischief.

Enter Agnes and Capt. Mertoun.

Agnes. My dear Lucy! I did not know that you were here. (Turning to Nelly.)

Nelly. Yes, Miss Agnes, the gipsy woman that told you your fortune, and, as Mrs Bargrove states, nursed you, Miss Lucy, at her breast. Sir Gilbert, I will save you trouble by confessing, that all I told these young people was from a feeling of revenge towards Lady Etheridge, who spurned me from her door. My long residence in the family enabled me to give a show of truth to what has occasioned so much uneasiness.

Peter. What! ar'n't it all true, then?

Nelly. Not one word, Mr Peter.

Old Bar. Then we must have you to Bridewell.

Nelly. I trust, Sir Gilbert, you will be merciful, for I have proved my strong regard to your family.

Adm. What, by making us all miserable?

Nelly. Sir Gilbert, by that letter in your hand, that I wrote, little expecting that I should ever appear before you.

Peter. O, the letter is true, then!

Adm. (holding up his cane). Silence, sir!

Old Bar. (holding up his stick). Yes, silence, sir!

Nelly. I know, Sir Gilbert, that you have too kind a heart to injure any one; and, if repentance for my folly and wickedness can—if you, Miss Lucy, will plead for me—and my letter, Sir Gilbert, ought to plead for me too—all I beg is, that you will place me in a situation to keep my good resolutions.

Capt. Eth. Lucy will plead for her, sir, and so do I, for to her I owe my present happiness.

Adm. Well, well, woman, it shall be your own fault if you do wrong again.

Nelly (curtseying.) Then let me beg pardon of all those to whom I have occasioned uneasiness.

Adm. Well, it's all settled now, except the affair of the letter, which we must attend to, Bargrove.

Capt. Mer. Not quite all, sir; here are two who wish for your sanction.

Adm. Hah! Is it so, Agnes? In this instance I may safely join your hands for your mother, for this morning she expressed a wish that it might be so. At the same time, Mr and Mrs Bargrove, I must request your sanction for the choice that my son has made. He has already secured mine and that of Lady Etheridge.

Mrs Bar. (wiping her eyes.) This is indeed a joyous end to all my vexations.

Nelly (with emotion.) May heaven bless your union, my dear Miss Lucy!

Old Bar. God bless you both! Now, with your permission, Sir Gilbert, I will resign my office of steward. For many years I have filled it through gratitude, and not from any wish of emolument. I have enough to portion my daughter, and even to make that foolish boy a gentleman, according to his notions of gentility.

Peter. Have you, my dear father? Then I am glad that I was not changed. But I say, Etheridge, I'm your brother-in-law. Indeed you've a strong hand, brother Edward.

Capt. Eth. There, Peter, take it in friendship. (Shake hands.)

Adm. And mine.

Capt. Mer. Peter, mine.

Old Bar. Well, I suppose, Peter, I must do the same, and forget and forgive.

Mrs Bar. And me, Peter. (Peter jumps up, clasps her round the neck, and gives her a hearty kiss.) The boy's heart is right after all.

Adm. Thus, then, do all our vexations end in happiness, and may we be allowed to indulge the hope that the same may prove the case with all the parties (bowing to the audience) who have honoured us with their presence.

[Curtain falls.



ILL-WILL:

AN ACTING CHARADE



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MR CADAVEROUS, An old miser, very rich and very ill.

EDWARD, A young lawyer without a brief.

MR HAUSTUS GUMARABIC, Apothecary.

SEEDY, Solicitor.

THOMAS MONTAGU, } } Nephews to Mr Cadaverous. JOHN MONTAGU, }

JAMES STERLING, } } Nephews twice removed to Mr Cadaverous. WILLIAM STERLING,}

CLEMENTINA MONTAGU, Niece to Mr Cadaverous.

MRS JELLYBAGS, Housekeeper and nurse.



Ill-Will



Act I.

Scene.—A sick room.—Mr Cadaverous in an easy chair asleep, supported by cushions, wrapped up in his dressing-gown, a nightcap on his head.—A small table with phials, gallipots, &c.—Mrs Jellybags seated on a chair close to the table.

Mrs Jellybags (looks at Mr Cadaverous, and then comes forward). He sleeps yet—the odious old miser! Mercy on me, how I do hate him,—almost as much as he loves his money! Well, there's one comfort, he cannot take his money-bags with him, and the doctor says that he cannot last much longer. Ten years have I been his slave—ten years have I been engaged to be married to Sergeant-Major O'Callaghan of the Blues—ten years has he kept me waiting at the porch of Hymen,—and what thousands of couples have I seen enter during the time! Oh dear! it's enough to drive a widow mad. I think I have managed it;—he has now quarrelled with all his relations, and Doctor Gumarabic intends this day to suggest the propriety of his making his last will and testament. [Mr Cadaverous, still asleep, coughs.] He is waking. (Looks at him.) No, he is not. Well, then, I shall wake him, and give him a draught, for, after such a comfortable sleep as he is now in, he might last a whole week longer. (Goes up to Mr Cadaverous, and shakes him).

Mr Cad. (starting up.) Ugh! ugh! ugh! (coughs violently.) Oh! Mrs Jellybags, I'm so ill. Ugh! ugh!

Jel. My dear, dear sir! now don't say so. I was in hopes, after such a nice long sleep you would have found yourself so much better.

Cad. Long sleep! oh dear!—I'm sure I've not slept ten minutes.

Jel. (Aside.) I know that. (Aloud.) Indeed, my dear sir, you are mistaken. Time passes very quick when we are fast asleep. I have been watching you and keeping the flies off. But you must now take your draught, my dear sir, and your pill first.

Cad. What! more pills and more draughts! Why, there's no end to them.

Jel. Yes, there will be, by-and-bye, my dear sir. You know Doctor Gumarabic has ordered you to take one pill and one draught every half-hour.

Cad. And so I have—never missed one for the last six weeks—woke up for them day and night. I feel very weak—very weak, indeed! Don't you think I might eat something, my dear Mrs Jellybags?

Jel. Eat, my dear Mr Cadaverous!—how can you ask me, when you know that Doctor Gumarabic says that it would be the death of you?

Cad. Only the wing of a chicken,—or a bit of the breast——

Jel. Impossible!

Cad. A bit of dry toast, then; anything, my dear Mrs Jellybags. I've such a gnawing. Ugh! ugh!

Jel. My dear sir, you would die if you swallowed the least thing that's nourishing.

Cad. I'm sure I shall die if I do not. Well, then, a little soup—I should like that very much indeed.

Jel. Soup! it would be poison, my dear sir! No, no. You must take your pill and your draught.

Cad. Oh dear! oh dear!—Forty-eight pills and forty-eight draughts every twenty-four hours!—not a wink of sleep day or night.