ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
A Parlour in Lady Amaranth's House.
Enter John Dory.
John. Fine cruizing this! without flip or biscuit! don't know who's the Governor of this here fort; but if he can victual us a few—how hollow my bread room sounds! [Striking his sides.] I'm as empty as a stoved keg, and as tired as an old Dutchman—my obstinate master, Sir George, to tow my old hulk—aboard the house, ha, hoy!
Sir Geo. [Without.] John! John Dory!
John. [Sits.] I'm at anchor.
Enter Sir George Thunder.
Sir Geo. I don't know who's house we've got into here, John; but I think, when he knows me, we may hope for some refreshment—Eh! [Looking at John.] was not I your captain?
John. Yes; and I was your boatswain. And what of all that?
Sir Geo. Then how dare you sit in my presence, you bluff head?
John. Why, for the matter of that, I don't mind; but had I been your captain, and you my boatswain, the man, that stood by me at sea, should be welcome to sit before me at land.
Sir Geo. That's true, my dear John; offer to stand up, and, damme, if I don't knock you down—zounds! I am as dry as a powder match—to sail at the rate of ten knots an hour, over fallow and stubble, from my own house, but half a league on this side of Gosport, and not catch these deserters!
John. In this here chase you wanted the ballast of wisdom.
Sir Geo. How, sirrah! hasn't my dear old friend, Dick Broadside, got the command of the ship I so often fought myself—to man it for him with expedition, didn't I (out of my own pocket) offer two guineas over the king's bounty to every seaman that would enter on board her? Hav'n't these three scoundrels fingered the shot, then ran, and didn't I do right to run after them? Damn the money! I no more mind that than a piece of clinker; but 'twas the pride of my heart to see my beloved ship (the Eagle) well mann'd, when my old friend is the commander.
John. But since you've laid yourself up in ordinary, retired to live in quiet, on your estate, and had done with all sea affairs—
Sir Geo. John, John, a man should forget his own convenience for his country's good.—Though Broadside's letter said these fellows were lurking about this part of Hampshire, yet still it's all hide and seek.
John. Your ill luck.
Sir Geo. Mine, you swab?
John. Ay, you've money and gold; but grace and good fortune have shook hands with you these nineteen years, for that rogue's trick you play'd poor Miss Amelia, by deceiving her with a sham marriage, when you passed yourself for Captain Seymour, and then putting off to sea, leaving her to break her poor heart, and since marrying another lady.
Sir Geo. Wasn't I forc'd to it by my father?
John.—Ay; because she had a great fortin, her death too was a judgment upon you.
Sir Geo. Why, you impudent dog-fish!—upbraid me for running into false bay, when you were my pilot? Wasn't it you, even brought me the false clergyman that performed the sham marriage with Amelia?
John. Yes, you think so; but I took care to bring you a real clergyman.
Sir Geo. But is this a time or place for your lectures? At home, abroad, sea, or land, you will still badger me! mention my Wild Oats again and—you scoundrel, since the night my bedcurtains took fire, when you were my boatswain aboard the Eagle, you've got me quite into leading strings—you snatched me upon deck, and tossed me into the sea,—to save me from being burnt, I was almost drowned.
John. You would but for me—
Sir Geo. Yes, you dragged me out by the ear, like a waterdog—last week, 'cause you found the tenth bottle uncorked, you rushed in among my friends, and ran away with me; and, next morning Captain O'Shanaghan sends me a challenge for quitting the company, when he was in the chair! so, to save me from a headach, you'd like to've got my brains blown out.
John. Oh, very well; be burnt in your bed, and tumble in the water, by jumping into boats, like a tight fellow as you are, and poison yourself with sloe juice; see if John cares a piece of mouldy biscuit about it. But I wish you hadn't made me your valet de shamber. No sooner was I got on shore, after five years dashing among rocks, shoals, and breakers, than you sets me on a high-trotting cart horse, which knockt me up and down like an old bomb-boat in the Bay of Biscay, and here's nothing to drink after all! Because at home you keep open house, you think every body else does the same.
Sir Geo. Why, by sailing into this strange port, we may be more free than welcome.
John. Holla! I'll never cease piping, 'till it calls up a drop to wet my whistle. [Exit.
Sir Geo. Yes, (as John Dory remarks) I fear my trip through life will be attended with heavy squalls and foul weather. When my conduct to poor Amelia comes athwart my mind, it's a hurricane for that day, and turn in at night, the ballad of "Margaret and William," rings in my ear. [Sings.] "In glided Margaret's grimly ghost." Oh, zounds! the dismals are coming upon me, and can't get a cheering glass to—holloa!
Enter Ephraim Smooth.
Eph. Friend, what would'st thou have?
Sir Geo. Grog.
Eph. Neither man nor woman of that name abideth here.
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha! man and woman! then if you'll bring me Mr. Brandy and Mrs. Water, we'll couple them, and the first child probably will be Master Grog.
Eph. Thou dost speak in parables, which I understand not.
Sir Geo. Sheer off with your sanctified poop, and send the gentleman of the house.
Eph. The owner of this mansion is a maiden, and she approacheth.
Enter Lady Amaranth.
Lady Am. Do I behold?—It is! how dost thou uncle?
Sir Geo. Is it possible you can be my niece, Lady Maria Amaranth Thunder?
Lady Am. I am the daughter of thy deceased brother Loftus, called Earl Thunder, but no lady, my name is Mary.
Sir Geo. But, zounds! how is all this? Eh! unexpectedly find you in a strange house, of which old Sly here tells me you're the mistress; turned quaker, and disclaim your title!
Lady Am. Thou know'st the relation to whose care my father left me?
Sir Geo. Well! I know our cousin, old Dovehouse, was a quaker! but I didn't suspect he would have made you one.
Lady Am. Being now gathered to his fathers, he did bequeath unto me his worldly goods; amongst them this mansion, and the lands around it.
Eph. So thou becom'st and continue one of the faithful. I am executor of his will, and by it, I cannot give thee, Mary, possession of these goods, but on those conditions.
Sir Geo. Tell me of your thee's and thou's, quaker's wills and mansions! I say, girl, though on the death of your father, my eldest brother, Loftus, Earl Thunder, from your being a female, his title devolved to his next brother, Robert; though, as a woman, you can't be an earl, nor as a woman, you can't make laws for your sex and our sex, yet, as the daughter of a peer, you are, and, by Heaven, shall be called Lady Maria Amaranth Thunder.
Eph. Thou makest too much noise, friend.
Sir Geo. Call me friend, and I'll bump your block against the capstern.
Eph. Yea, this is a man of danger, and I will leave Mary to abide it. [Exit.
Sir G. 'Sfire, my lady—
Lady Am. Title is vanity.
Enter Zachariah.
Zach. Shall thy cook, this day, roast certain birds of the air, call'd woodcocks, and ribs of the oxen likewise?
Lady Am. All. My uncle sojourneth with me peradventure, and my meal shall be a feast, friend Zachariah.
Zach. My tongue shall say so, friend Mary.
Sir Geo. [Strikes him.] Sir George Thunder bids thee remember to call your mistress, Lady Amaranth.
Zach. Verily, George.
Sir Geo. George! sirrah, though a younger brother, the honour of knighthood was my reward for placing the glorious British flag over that of a daring enemy—therefore address me with respect.
Zach. Yea, I do, good George. [Exit.
Sir Geo. George and Mary! here's levelling, here's abolition of title with a vengeance!
Lady Am. Kinsman, be patient; thou, and thy son, my cousin Henry, whom I have not beheld, I think, these twelve years, shall be welcome to my dwelling. Where now abideth the youth?
Sir Geo. At the Naval Academy, at Portsmouth.
Lady Am. May I not see the young man?
Sir Geo. What, to make a quaker of him?—No, no. But, hold, as she's now a wealthy heiress, her marrying my son Harry, will keep up and preserve her title in our own family too. [Aside.] Would'st thou really be glad to see him? thou shalt, Mary. Ha, ha, ha! John Dory! [Calling.] Here comes my valet de chambre.
Enter John Dory.
John. Why, sir—such a breeze sprung up!
Sir Geo. Avast, old man of war; you must instantly convoy my son from Portsmouth.
John. Then I must first convoy him to Portsmouth, for he happens to be out of the dock already.
Sir Geo. What wind now?
John. You know, on our quitting harbour—
Sir Geo. Damn your sea jaw, you marvellous dolphin, give the contents of your logbook in plain English.
John. The young squire has cut and run.
Sir Geo. What?
John. Got leave to come to you: and master didn't find out before yesterday, that, instead of making for home, he had sheer'd off towards London; directly sent notice to you, and Sam has traced us all the way here to bring you the news.
Sir Geo. What, a boy of mine quit his guns? I'll grapple him.—Come, John.
Lady Am. Order the carriage for mine uncle.
Sir Geo. No, thank ye, my lady. Let your equipage keep up your own dignity. I have horses here; but I won't knock 'em up; next village is the channel for the stage—My lady, I'll bring the dog to you by the bowsprit.—Weigh anchor! crowd sail! and after him! [Exit.
Enter Ephraim. [Peeping in.]
Eph. The man of noise doth not tarry, then my spirit is glad.
Lady Am. Let Sarah prepare chambers for my kinsman, and hire the maiden for me that thou didst mention.
Eph. I will; for this damsel is passing fair, and hath found grace in mine eyes. Mary, as thou art yet a stranger in this land, and just taken possession of this estate, the laws of society command thee to be on terms of amity with thy wealthy neighbours.
Lady Am. Yea; but while I entertain the rich, the hearts of the poor shall also rejoice; I myself will now go forth into the adjacent hamlet, and invite all that cometh, to hearty cheer.
Eph. Yea, I will distribute among the poor good books.
Lady Am. And meat and drink too, friend Ephraim. In the fulness of plenty, they shall join in thanksgiving for those gifts of which I am so unworthy. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Road.
Enter Harry Thunder, and Midge follows,
calling.
Midge. I say, Dick Buskin! harkye, my lad!
Harry. What keeps Rover?
Midge. I'm sure I don't know. As you desired, I paid for our breakfast. But the devil's in that fellow; every inn we stop at, he will always hang behind, chattering to the bar-maid, or chamber-maid.
Harry. Or any, or no maid. But he's a worthy lad; and I love him better, I think, than my own brother, had I one.
Midge. Oh! but, Dick, mind, my boy.
Harry. Stop, Midge. Though 'twas my orders, when I set out on this scamper with the players, (the better to conceal my quality,) for you, before people, to treat me as your companion; yet, at the same time, you should have had discretion enough to remember, when we're alone, that I am still your master, and son to Sir George Thunder.
Midge. Sir, I ask your pardon; but by making yourself my equal, I've got so used to familiarity, that I find it curst hard to shake it off.
Harry. Well, sir, pray mind, that familiarity is all over now. My frolic's out, I now throw off the player, and shall directly return. My father must by this time, have heard of my departure from the academy at Portsmouth; and, though I was deluded away by my rage for a little acting, yet 'twas wrong of me to give the gay old fellow any cause of uneasiness.
Midge. And, sir, shall you and I never act another scene together? Shall I never again play Colonel Standard for my own benefit? Never again have the pleasure of caning your honour in the character of Tom Errand.
Harry. In future, act the part of a smart hat and coat brusher; or I shall have the honour of kicking you in the character of an idle puppy. You were a good servant; but I find, by letting you crack your jokes, and sit in my company, you're grown quite a rascal.
Midge. Yes, sir, I was a modest, well behaved lad; but evil communication corrupts good manners.
Harry. Begone, sirrah, 'till I call for you.
[Exit Midge, grumbling.
Harry. Well, if my father but forgives me.—This three month's excursion has shewn me some life, and a devilish deal of fun. For one circumstance, I shall ever remember it with delight. Its bringing me acquainted with Jack Rover. How long he stays! Jack! In this forlorn stroller, I have discovered qualities that honour human nature, and accomplishments that might grace a prince. I don't know a pleasanter fellow, except when he gets to his abominable habit of quotation. I hope he will not find the purse I've hid in his coat pocket, before we part. I dread the moment, but it's come.
Rover. [Without.] "The brisk li-li-lightening I."
Harry. Ay, here's the rattle. Hurried on by the impetuous flow of his own volatile spirits, his life is a rapid stream of extravagant whim; and while the serious voice of humanity prompts his heart to the best of actions, his features shine in laugh and levity. Studying Bays, eh, Jack?
Enter Rover.
Rover. "I am the bold Thunder."
Harry. [Aside.] I am, if he knew but all.—Keep one standing in the road.
Rover. Beg your pardon, my dear Dick; but all the fault of—Plague on't, that a man can't sleep and breakfast at an inn, then return up to his bedchamber for his gloves that he'd forgot, but there he must find chambermaids, thumping feathers and knocking pillows about, and keep one when one has affairs and business. 'Pon my soul, these girls' conduct to us is intolerable. The very thought brings the blood into my face, and whenever they attempt to serve, provoke me so, damme but I will, I will—An't I right, Dick?
Harry. No; "all in the wrong."
Rover. No matter, Dick; that's the universal play "all round the wrekin:" but you are so conceited, because, by this company you're going to join at Winchester, you are engaged for high tragedy.
Harry. And you for Rangers, Plumes, and Foppingtons.
Rover. Our first play is Lear. I was devilish imperfect in Edgar, t'other night at Lymington. I must look it over. [Takes out a book.] "Away, the foul fiend follows me!" Hollo! stop a moment, we shall have the whole county after us. [Going.
Harry. What now?
Rover. That rosy faced chambermaid put me in such a passion, that, by Heaven, I walked out of the house, and forgot to pay our bill. [Going.
Harry. Never mind, Rover, it's paid.
Rover. Paid! why, neither you nor Midge had money enough. No, really!
Harry. Ha, ha, ha! I tell you 'tis.
Rover. You paid? Oh, very well. Every honest fellow should be a stock purse. Come then, let's push on now. Ten miles to Winchester; we shall be there by eleven.
Harry. Our trunks are booked at the inn for the Winchester coach.
Rover. "Ay, to foreign climates my old trunk I bear." But I prefer walking to the car of Thespis.
Harry. Which is the way?
Rover. Here.
Harry. Then, I go there. [Pointing opposite.]
Rover. Eh!
Harry. My dear boy, on this spot, and at this moment, we must part.
Rover. Part!
Harry. Rover, you wish me well.
Rover. Well, and suppose so. Part, eh! What mystery and grand? What are you at? Do you forget,—you, Midge, and I, are engaged to Truncheon, the manager, and that the bills are already up with our names to-night to play at Winchester?
Harry. Jack, you and I have often met on a stage in assumed characters; if it's your wish we should ever meet again in our real ones, of sincere friends, without asking whither I go, or my motives for leaving you, when I walk up this road, do you turn down that.
Rover. Joke!
Harry. I'm serious. Good b'ye!
Rover. If you repent your engagement with Truncheon, I'll break off too, and go with you wherever—[Takes him under the arm.]
Harry. Attempt to follow me, and even our acquaintance ends.
Rover. Eh!
Harry. Don't think of my reasons, only that it must be.
Rover. Have I done any thing to Dick Buskin? leave me! [Turns and puts his handkerchief to his eyes.]
Harry. I am as much concerned as you to—Good b'ye!
Rover. I can't even bid him—I won't neither—If any cause could have given—Farewell.
Harry. Bless my poor fellow! Adieu. [Silently weeps.]
[Exeunt several ways.