READING THE WILL.

Characters:

Enter Swipes, R.,[3] Currie, L.

Swipes. A sober occasion this, brother Currie! Who would have thought the old lady was so near her end?

Currie. Ah! we must all die, brother Swipes. Those who live longest outlive the most.

Swipes. True, true; but, since we must die and leave our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she departed?

Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. ’Squire Drawl told me she read every word of her last will and testament aloud, and never signed her name better.

Swipes. Had you any hint from the ’Squire what disposition she made of her property?

Cur. Not a whisper! the ’Squire is as close as a miser’s purse. But one of the witnesses hinted to me that she has cut off her graceless nephew with a shilling.

Swipes. Has she? Good soul! Has she? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife.

Cur. And I in my own right; and this is, no doubt, the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. ’Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your own beer-barrels, brother Swipes. But here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a matter of course, you know. (Enter Frank Millington, R.) Your servant, young gentleman. So, your benefactress has left you, at last!

Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr. Millington.

Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better, had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not her value.

Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a chance to earn your own bread.

Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better people are obliged to. You would make a fine brewer’s boy, if you were not too old.

Cur. Ay, or a saddler’s lackey, if held with a tight rein.

Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly, as I shall mine submissively. I shall retire. (As he is going, R., enter ’Squire Drawl, R.)

’Squire. Stop, stop, young man! We must have your presence. Good-morning, gentlemen: you are early on the ground.

Cur. I hope the ’Squire is well to-day.

’Squire. Pretty comfortable for an invalid.

Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs.

’Squire. No, I believe not. You know I never hurry. Slow and sure is my maxim. Well, since the heirs-at-law are all convened, I shall proceed to open the last will and testament of your deceased relative, according to law.

Swipes. (While the ’Squire is breaking the seal.) It is a trying scene to leave all one’s possessions, ’Squire, in this manner!

Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy when I look round and see everything but the venerable owner of these goods. Well did the preacher say, All is vanity!

’Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen.

(All sit.—The ’Squire puts on his spectacles, and reads slowly.) “Imprimis: Whereas my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and ungrateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, and incapable of managing my large estate, I do hereby give and bequeath all my houses, farms, stocks, bonds, moneys and property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt street, brewer, and Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler.” (’Squire takes off his spectacles to wipe them.)

Swipes. (Dreadfully overcome.) Generous creature! kind soul! I always loved her.

Cur. She was good, she was kind! She was in her right mind. Brother Swipes, when we divide, I think I will take the mansion-house.

Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie! My wife has long had her eye upon that, and must have it. (Both rise.)

Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr. Swipes! And, besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did not I lend her a new chaise every time she wished to ride? And who knows what influence——.

Swipes. Am I not named first in her will? And did I not furnish her with my best small beer for more than six months? And who knows——.

Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you.

(Going.)

’Squire. (Wiping his spectacles, and putting them on.) Pray, gentlemen, keep your seats. I have not done yet. (All sit.) Let me see; where was I?—Ay,—“All my property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt street, brewer——”

Swipes. Yes!

’Squire. “And Christopher Currie, Fly Court, saddler——”

Cur. Yes!

’Squire. “To have and to hold in trust, for the sole and exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington, until he shall have attained the age of twenty-one years; by which time I hope he will have so far reformed his evil habits, as that he may safely be intrusted with the large fortune which I hereby bequeath to him.”

Swipes. What’s all this? You don’t mean that we are humbugged? In trust!—how does that appear? Where is it?

’Squire. (Pointing to the parchment.) There! In two words of as good old English as I ever penned.

Cur. Pretty well, too, Mr. ’Squire, if we must be sent for to be made a laughing-stock of! She shall pay for every ride she had out of my chaise, I promise you!

Swipes. And for every drop of my beer. Fine times, if two sober, hard-working citizens are to be brought here to be made the sport of a graceless profligate! But we will manage his property for him, Mr. Currie! We will make him feel that trustees are not to be trifled with!

Cur. That will we!

’Squire. Not so fast, gentlemen; for the instrument is dated three years ago, and the young gentleman must already be of age, and able to take care of himself. Is it not so, Francis?

Frank. It is, your worship.

’Squire. Then, gentlemen, having attended to the breaking of this seal according to law, you are released from any further trouble in the premises.

(Exit Swipes and Currie in earnest conversation.)

Sargent.

[3] R., signifies right; L., left and C., centre of stage.