Title Class T..J'^.±o61 Book :.Lz3.L.{f?..^ Imprint ;^r/^ ^U^/^un/, No. XYI[. FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA EDITED BY EPES SARGENT. THE POOR GENTLEMAN 21 Comebg, IN FIVE ACTS. BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. WITH THE STAUB BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARAC- TERS, COSTUMES RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. NEW YORK: SAMUEL FEENCH No. 122 Nassau Stbbet, (Up Stairs.) PRICE,] [121^ CTS. FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA, Price 12)^ Cents each..— Bound Volumes $1. VOL. I. 1. Ion, 2. i<'azio, 3. Thd^.ady of Lyons, 4. Richelieu, 5. The Wife, 6. The Honeymoon, 7. The School for Scftndal 8. Money, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mrs. A. C. MOWATT. VOL. V. SS. A New -Way to Pay Old Debts, 34. Look Before You Leap 35. King John, 38. Nervous Man, 37. Damon and Pythias, 38. Clandestine Marriage 39. MMlliam Tell, 40. Day after the Wedding With a Portrait and Me- moir of G. COLMAN, the Elder. VOL. IX. 65. Love, 66. As You Like It, 67. The Elder Brother, 68. Werner, 69. Gisippus, 70. Town and Country. 71. King Lear, 72. Blue Devils, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mrs. SHAW. VOL. XIII. 97. Soldier's Daughter, 93. Douglas, 99. Marco Spada, 100. Nature's Nobleman, 101. Sardanapalus, 102. Civilization, 103. The Bobbers, 104. Katharine and Pe- truchio. With a Pertrait and Me- moir of Mr. EDWIN FOREST. VOL, XVII. 129. Camille, 130. Married Life, 131. Wenlock of Wenlock 132. Rose of Ettrlckvale, 133. David Copperfield, 134. Aline, or the Rose of 135. Pauline, [Killarney 136. Jane Eyre. VOL. XXI. 161. All's Fair in Loye, 162. Hofer, 163. Self, 164. Cinderella, 166. Phantom, 166. Franklin, 167. The Ounmaker of Moscow, 168. The Love of a Prince VOL. II. 9. The Stranger, 10. Grandfather White- 11. Richard IIL [head, 12. Love's Sacrifice, 13. The Gamester, [ache, 14. A Cure for the Heart- 15. The Hunchback, 16. Don Caesar de Bazan, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mr. CHARLES KEAN. VOL. VI. 41. Speed the Plough, 42. Romeo and Juliet, 43. Feudal Times, 44. Charles the Twelfth, 45. The Bridal, 46. The FoUiesof aNight 47. The Iron Chest, 48. Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady, With a Portrait and Me- moir of E. BULWER LYTTON. VOL. X. 73. Henry VIII. 74. Married and Single, 7i>. Henry IV. 76. Paul Pry. 7T. Guy Mannering, 78. Sweethearts and Wives, 79. Serious Family. 80. She Stoops to Con- quer, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Miss C. CUSH- MAN. VOL. XIV. 105. Game of Love, 106. Midsummer Night's Dream, 107. Ernestine, WS. Bag Picker of Parts, 109. Flying Dutchman, IK). Hypocrite, 111. Therese, 112. La Tour de Nesle, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mr. JOHN BROUGHAM. VOL. XVIII. Night and Morning, JEthiop, Three Guardsmen, Tom Cringle, [ken Henriette, the Porsa- Eustache Baudin, Ernest Majtravera, Bold Dragoons. VOL. XXII. 169. Son of the Night, 170. Rory O'More, 171. Golden Kagle, 172. Rienzi. 173. Broken Sword, 174. Rip Van Winkle, 175. Isabelle. 176. Heart of Midlothian VOL. III. 17. The Poor Gentleman 18. Hamlet, 19. Charles II. 20. Venice Preserved, 21. Pizarro, 22. The Love Chase, 23. Othello, [lings 24. Lend me Five Shil- Wlth a Portrait and Me- moir of Mr. W. E. BUR- TON. VOL. VII. 49. Road to Ruin, 50. Macbeth, 51. Temper, 52. Evadne, 53. Bertram, 54. The Duenna, 55. Much Ado About No- thing, 56. The Critic, With a Portrait and Me- moir of R. B. SHERI- DAN. VOL. XI. 81. Julius Caesar, 82. Vicar of Wakefield, 83. Leap Year, 84. The Catspaw, 85. The P assing Cloud, 86. Drunkard, 87. Rob Roy, 88. George Barnwell, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mrs. JOHN SEFTON. VOL. XV. 113. Ireland As It Is, 114. Sea of Ice. 115. Seven Clerks, 116. Game of Life, 117. Forty Thieves, 118. Bryan Boroihme, 119. Romance & Reality. 120. Ugolino, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mr. BARNEY WILLIAMS. VOL. XIX. 145. Dred, or the Dismal Bwamp, 146. Last Days of Pom- 147. Esmeralda, [peii, 148. Peter Wilkins, 149. Ben the Boatswain, 150. Jonathan Bradford, 15*. Retribution, 153. MineraU. VOL. XXIII. 177. Actress of Padua, 178. Floating Beacon, 179. Bride of Lammer- moor, [8^^' 180. Cataract of the Gan- 181. Robber of the Rhine 182. School of Reform, 183. Wandering Boys, 184. Mazeppa. VOL. IV. 25. Virginius, 26. King of the Commons 27. London Assnrance, 28. The Rent Day, 29. Two Gentlemen of Verona, 30. The Jealous Wife, 31. The Rivals, 32. Perfection, With a Pprtrait and Me- moir of J. H. HACKETT VOL. VUI. 57. The Apostate, 58. Twelfth Night, 59 Brutus, 60. Simpson ft Co. 61. Merchant of Venice, 62. Old Heads and Young Hearts, 63. Mountaineers. 64. Three Weeks After Marriage. With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mr. GEORGE H. BARRETT. VOL. XII. 89. Ingomar, 90. Sketches in India, 91. Two Friends, 92. Jane Shore, 93. Corslcan Brothers, 94. Mind Your Own Bus- iness, 95. Writing on the Wall, 96. Heir at Law, With a Portrait and Me- moir of Mr. THOMAS HAMBLIN. VOL. XVI. 121. The Tempest, 122. The Pilot, 123. Carpenter of Rouen, 124. King's Rival, 125. Little Treasure, 126. Dombey and Son, 127. Parents and Guard- 128. Jewess, [ians, VOL. XX. 153. French Spy, 154. Wept of Wish-ton Wish, 155. Bvil Genius, 156. Ben Bolt, 157. Sailor of France, 158. Red Mask, 159. Life of an Actreni, 160. Wedding Day. VOL. XXIV. Young New York. The Victims. Romance after Mar- Brigand, [riage, Pe^r of New York, Ambrose Gwinett, Raymond and Agnes, Gambler's Fat^ [ Catalogue continued on third page of cover.l No. XVII. FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. THE POOR GEITLEMAI. IN FIVE ACTS. BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, COS- TUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c. AS PERFORMED AT THE PARK T HEATH I, NEW YORK: SAMUEL FRENCH, 122 Nassau Strbut, (Ux Stairs.) CASX OF CHARACXERS. Cover.t Garden, 1800. Chesnut St. 1845. Park, 1645. Sir Robert Bramble !\rr. Munden. Mr. Thayer. Mr. Bass. Sir Charles Cropland .. " H. Johnston. " Bowers. " Crocker. Li' ntenant JFort'iington, '• Murray- " J- Scott. " Barry. OUiipod ..., " Fawcett. " Burton. " Placide. Frederick Bramble " Lewis. *' Brougham. " Blasui. Farmer Harrowby " Townsend. •' Eberle. " Ander.-on, Stephen Ilarrowbtj " Emery. " Owens. " G. Andrew.^. Huiiiphreij Dobbins " Wad(iy. " Greene. " Fihher. Corporal Foss " 13)anchard. " Dunn. " De Walden, Warner " Davenport " Phillips. Valet " " Blanknian. " King. Emily Worthington Mrs. Gibbs. Miss A. Fisiier. Mrs. Bland. MIbs Lucretia Mac Tab, " Mattocks. Sirs. Hughes. " Vernon. Dame Harrowby " Powell. " Rogers. MissFaniiyGordoh Mary Miss Sims. " Hilson. " Flyr.n. COSTUMES. SIR ROBERT BRAMBLE.— Moroon-colored coat, witli bra5=s basket buttous, old- fashioned s-uit, white silk stockings, shoes with buckle.'', while cravat, (Jeorge wig old gentleman's hat. SIR CHARLES CROPLAND.— Fashionable surtout coat, velvet waistcoat, white trowscrs, Wellington lioots, round op-era hat. LIEUTENANT WORTH INGTO.N.— Blue unifo-m. with red cuOs and collar, light dark pantaloons, Hessian boots, military hat. gray hair. OLLAPOD.— First dress: old-lasliioneii black tout and wai.otcoat, leather breeches, military boots. Second dress: Yeomanry jacket, sword, helmet, belt. &c. FREDERICK. — Plum-colored surtont anil pantaloons, trimmed with fur, velvet waistcoat, Wellington boots, black cravat, round hat. FARMER HARROWBY.— Brown surtout coat, red wni.ncoat, dark corduroy breeches, top-boots, George wig, farmer's hat, colored neckerchief. STEPHEN HARROWBY.— Short .smock frock, leather breeches, blue speckled stocking.s, .short black gaiters, black leather stock, hair soaped and tlowered, red pig-tail, and carter's whip. HUJMPIIREY DOBBINS.— Dark gray coat (with black buttons), waistcoat, aud breeciies, white lambs'-wool stockings, shoes with brass buckles, gray hair, old man's hat, white stock and buckle. CORPORAL FOSS.— Corporal's red jacket, buff waistcoat, white breeches, black gaiters, Chelsea pensioner's hat, black leather stock. VALET — Blue striped jacket, white waistcoat an sir ; I hope the lodg- ings, sir, and my wife, have been agreeable to you, sir, and BO forth. War. Nothing can be better. You are well situated nere, Mr. Harrowby. Far. We am all in the rough, sir — fjunner-like ; but the place be well enow for poor folk, sir. 12 THE POOR G.i:NTLEMAN. [Act £. Wor. \ Aside.] What does he mean by that 1 Far. I be content in my station. -There be no* reason ■why a poor man should not be happy. IVbr. [Half aside.] A million ! Far. Am there 1 Well, now, I can't see that : for, put- ting the case now, sir, that you was poor, like I — JVor. [Angrily.] I will not suffer you, sir, to put a case BO familiarly curious. Far, Nay, I meant no offence, I'll be swoni, sir. Wor. But if you wish to know my sentiments, as far as it may concern yourself, in any money transactions between us, be assured of this : I have too nice a sense of a gen- tleman's dignity, and too strong a feeling for a poor man's necessity, to permit him to wait a day for a single shilling which I am indebted to him. Far. l^Asidc] Dang it ! he must be j^oor ; for your great gentry, now-a-.days, do pay in a clean, contrary fa- shion. JVor. \PulUng out a j)urse,] I shall settle with you for the lodgings, Mr. HaiTowby, weekly. One week is due to-day, and — Far. No, sir, no ; under favor, I would like it best quar- terly — or half-yearly — or at any long time may suit your conveni — I mean, may suit your pleasure, sir Wor. Why so \ Far. Because — humph ! because, sir — Pray, if I may make so bold, sir, how often may the pay-days come round with the army-gentlemen and such like '{ Wor. Insolent ! Receive your money, sir, and let me pass from your apartment. [O^crs if.. Far. Then I wish I may be burat if I take it now, and that be flat, sir ! [Rejecting it.] You am a brave, good gen- tleman, I be told, sir, wi' a family, and — and — and — In short, there am some little shopmen, in our village, who may press you hard to settle by the week : pay them gree- dy ones first, sir ; and if there be enow, at last, left for I, well and good : and if you am inclined for riding, sir, there be always a gelding at your service, without charge. I be a plain man, sir, but I do mean n )thing but respect ; and so I wish you a good day, sir. [Exit, l. Wor. How am I mortified ! What has this nmn heard I Is there a stat-e more galling than to need the decent mean? Scene II.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 13 of maintaining the appearance which liberal birth, educa- tion and profession demand 1 Yes, yes — there is an ag- gravation ! 'Tis to have a daughter nursed in her father's afflictions, v\^ith little more to share with her, than the bread of his anguish, the bitter cup of his sorrows ; to see, while I am sinking to my grave, my friendless, motherless child — Let me draw a veil over this picture ; 'twere not philosophy, but brutahty, to look upon it unmoved ! [Exit, R. Scene II , — An AiJartment in Sir Charles Cropland's house — a table, gold chairs, 8(v. Sir Charles Cropland discovered at hreahfast — his Valet d.e Chamhre adjusting his hair. Sir C. (l.) Has old Warner, the steward, been told that I arrived last night 1 Val. Yes, Sir Charles ; with orders to attend you this morning. Sir C. \Yaivning and stretching.^ What can a man of fashion do with himself in the country, at this dull time of the year 1 Val. It is very pleasant to-day, oi^t in the park. Sir Charles. Sir C. Pleasant, you booby ! How can the country be pleasant in the middle of spring \ All the world's in Lon- don. Val. I think, somehow, it looks so lively, Sir Charles, when the corn is coming up. Sir C. Blockhead ! Vegetation makes the face of a country look frightful — it spoils hunting. Yet, as my bu- siness on my estate here, is to raise supplies for my plea- sure elsewhere, my journey is a wise one. What day of the month was it yesterday, when I left town on this wise expedition 1 Val. The first of April, Sir Charles. Sir C. Umph ! When Mr. Warner comes, show him in. Val. I shall, Sir Charles. [Exit, r. Sir C. This same lumbering timber upon my ground has its tperits. Trees are notes issued from the bank of Nature, and as current as those payable to Abraham New- land. I must get change for a few oaks, for I want caah consumedly. 14 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. Act I Entej' Warner r. So, Mr. Warner ! War. Your lionour is right welcome ir to Kent. I am proud to see Sir Charles Cropland on his estate again. I hope you mean to stay on the spot for some time, Sir Charles. Sir C. A very tedious time — three days, Mr. Warner. War. Ah, good sir ! things would prosper better if* you honoured us with your presence a little more. I wish you lived entirely upon the estate, Sir Charles. Sir C Thank you, Warner ; but modern men of fashion find it devilish difficult to live upon their estates. War. The country about you so charming ! Sir C. Look ye, Warner : I must hunt in Leicestershire — for that's the thing. In the frosis and the spring months, I must be in town, at the clubs — for that's the thing. In summer, I must be at the watering-places — for that's the thing. Now, Warner, under these circumstances, how is it possible for me to reside upon my estate 1 For my es- tate being in Kent — War. The most beautiful part of the country ! Sir C. Curse beauty ! We don't mind that in Leices- tershire. My estate, I say, being in Kent — War. A land of milk and honey ! Sir C. I hate milk and honey ! War. Aland of fat! Sir C. D- n your fat ! Listen to me : my estate be- ing in Kent — War. So woody ! Sir C. Curse the wood ! — no, that's wrong — for it's con- venient ; I am come on purpose to cut it. War. Ah ! I was afraid so ! Dice on the table, and, then the axe to the root ! Money lost at play, and then, good lack ! the forest groans for it. Sir C. But you are not the forest, and why the devil do you groan for it ] War. I heartily wish, Sir Charles, you may not encum- ber the goodly estate. Your worthy ancestors had views for their posterity. Sir C. And I shall have views for my posterity : I shall take special care the trees sha'n't intercept their prospect ScEITSlI.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 16 Rc-ente?' Valet, r. Val. Mr. Ollapod, the apothecary, is in the hail, Sir Charles, to inquire after your health. Sir C. Show him in. [Exit Valet, r.] The fellow's a character, and treats time as he does his patients. He shall kill a quarter of an hour for me, this morning. In short, Mr. Warner, I must have three thousand pounds in three days. Fell timber to that amount, immediately 'Tis my peremptory order, sir, IVar. I shall obey you, Sir Charles ; but 'tis with a hea vy heart. Forgive an old servant of the family, if he grieves to see you forget some of the duties for which society has a claim upon you. Si?' C. What do you mean by duties 1 War. Duties, Sir Charles, which the extravagant man of property can never fulfil : such as to support the digni- ty of an English landholder, for the honour of old England ; to promote the welfare of his honest tenants ; and to suc- cour the industrious poor, who naturally look up to him for assistance. But I shall obey you, Sir Charles. [Exit, r. Sir C. A tiresome old blockhead ! But where is this Ollapod ] His jumble of physic and shooting may enli- ven me ; and, to a man of gallantry, in the' country, his intelligence is by no means uninteresting, nor his services inconvenient. Enter Ollapod, r. Ah ! Ollapod ! Oil. Sir Charles, I have the honour to be your slave ! Hope your health is good. Been a hard winter liere — sore throats were plenty — so were woodcocks. Flushed four couple one morning, in a half-mile walk from our town, to cure Mrs. Quarles of a quinsy. May coming on soon. Sir Charles — season of delight, love, and campaigning ! Hope you come to sojourn. Sir Charles. Shouldn't be always on the wing — that's being too flighty. [Laughing.^ He ! he ! he ! — Do you take, good sir 1 do you take ] Sir C. Oh, yes, I take. But, by the cockade in your hat, Dllapod, you have added lately, it seems, to your avo- cations. OIL He ! he ! Yes, Sir Charles, I have now the ho- 16 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act 1. nour to be cornet in the volunteer associatwn corps of our town. It fell out unexpected — pop, on a sudden ; like the going off of a field piece, or an alderman in an apoplexy. Sir C. Explain. Oil. Happening to be at home — rainy day — no going out to sport, blister, shoot, nor bleed — was busy behind the counter. — You know my shop. Sir Charles — Galen's head over the door — new gilt him last week, by the bye — looks as fresh as a pill. Sir C. Well, no more on that head now. Proceed. Oil. On that head ! [Laug/iing.] He ! he ! That's very well, very well indeed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you one ! Churchwarden Posh, of our town, being ill of an indigestion, from eating three pounds of measly pork at a vestry dinner, I was making up a cathartic for the patient, when who should strut into the shop but Lieutenant Grains, the brewer, sleek as a dray horse — in a smart scarlet jack- et, tastily turned up with a rhubarb-coloured lapelle ! I confess his figure struck me. — I looked at him, as I was thumping the mortar, and felt instantly inoculated with a military ardour. Sir C. Inoculated ! I hope your ardour was of a favor- able sort. Oil. Ha ! ha ! That's very well — very well, indeed — Thank you, good sir — I owe you one ! We first talked of shooting — he knew my celebrity that way. Sir Charles- — I told him the day before, I killed six brace of birds. I thumped on at the mortar. — We then talked of physic : I told him the day before I had killed — lost, I mean, six brace of patients. I thumped on at the mortar, eyeing him all the while ; for he looked devilish flashy, to be sure ; and I felt an itching to belong to the corps. The medical and military both deal in death, you know — so 'twas natu- ral. He ! he ! — Do you take, good sir 1 do you take ? Sir C. Take ! — Oh, nobody can miss. Oil. He then talked of the corps itself; said it was sick- ly ; and if a professional person would administer to the liealth of the association, dose the men, and drench the horses, he could, perhaps, procure him a cornetcy. Sir C. Well, you have jumped at the offer] Oil. Jumped! I jumjjed over tlie counter; kicked down Churchwarden Posli's cathartic into the pocket )f ScElTElI.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN^ 17 Lieutenant Grain's smart scarlet jacket, tastily tamed up with a rhubarb- colon red laptHe; embraced him and his offer ; and I am now Cornet Ollapod, apothecary, at tho Galen's Head, of the association corps of cavalry, at your service ! Si7' C. I wish you joy of your appointment. You may now distil water for the shop from the laurels you gather hi tlie field. OIL Water for — Oh ! laurel-water. He ! he ! Come, that's very well — very well, indeed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you one ! Why, I fancy fame will follow, when the poison of a small mistake I made, has ceased to ope- rate. Si}- C. A mistake ! Oil. Having to attend Lady Kitty Carbuncle, on a grand field-day, I clapped a pint bottle of her ladyship's diet-drink into one of my holsters, intending to proceed to the patient, after the exercise was over. I reached the martial ground andjalloped — galloped, I mean — wheeled and flourished with great eclat ; but when the word " Fire !" was given, meaning to pull out my pistol, in a deuce of a hurry, I pre- sented, neck foremost, the d d diet-drink of Lady Kit- ty Carbuncle ; and the medicine being unfortunately fer- mented by the jolting of my horse, it forced out the cork, with a prodigious pop, full in the face of my gallant com- mander. Sir C. But in the midst of so many pursuits, how pro- ceeds practice among the ladies 1 Oil. He ! he ! I should be sorry not. to feel the pulse of a pretty woman now and then. Sir Charles. Do you take, good sir 1 do you take 1 Sir 0. Any new faces since I left the country ? Oil. Nothing worth an item — nothing new arrived in our town. In the village, to h^\ sure, hard by, a most brilliant beauty has lately given lustre to the lodgings of farmer Harrowby. Sir C. Indeed ! — Is she come-at-able, Ollapod 1 Oil. Oh, no ; full of honour as a corps of cavalry, though plump as a partridge, and mild as an emulsion. Misa Emily AVorthington, I may venture to say — Sir C. Hey! who? — Emily Worthington ! Oil. With her father-^ 18 THE POOR GENTLLMAN. [Act I Sir C. x4.n old officer in the army '? Oil. The same. Sh- C. And a stiff maiden aunt ? Oil. Stiff as a ram-rod. Sir C. [Singing and dancing] Tol de rol lol ! Oil. Bless me ! he is seized with St. Vitus' dance. Sir C. 'Tis she., by Jupiter ! — My dear Olla^^od ! [Einhraces fmn, OIL [Rctui'ning the emhi'acc] Oh, my dear Sir Charles ! Sir C. The very girl who has just slipped through my fingers, in London! OIL Oh ho ! Sir C. You can serve me materially, Oil apod ; I know your good nature in a case like this, and OU. State the symptoms of the case, Sir Charles. Sir C. Oh, common enough. Saw her in London by accident; wheedled the old maiden aunt; kept out of the father's way ; followed Emily more than a month without success; and, eight days ago, she vanished. There's the outline. OIL I see no matrimonial symptoms in our case. Sir Charles. Sir C. 'Sdeath ! do you think me mad] But introduce yourself to the family, and pave the way for me. Come, mount your horse ; I'll explain more as you go to the sta- ble ; but I am in a flame — in a fever, till I hear further, OIL In a fever ! — I'll send you physic enough to fill a baggage wagon. Sir C. [Aside.] So, a long bill as the price of his polite- ness ! OIL You need not bleed, but you must have medicine. Sir C. If I must have medicine, Ollapod, I fancy I .shall bleed pretty freely. OIL [Laughing.] He ! he ! — Come, that's very well — ■ very well, indeed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you one. Before dinnei", a strong dose of coloquiiitida, senna, scam- mony, and gambouge. Sir C. Oh ! d — n scammony and gambouge ! OIL At night, a narcotic ; next day, saline draughts, camphorated jalap, and — Sir C. Zounds ! only go, and I'll swallow your whole shop ! »CE»rEl.j THE POUR GENTLEMAN. 19 Oil. Galen forbid ! 'Tis enough to kill every customer I have in the parish. Then we'll throw in the bark. By the bye, talking of bark; Sir Charles, that Juno of yours is the prettiest pointer bitch — Sir C. Well, well — she is yours. Oil. My dear Sir Charles ! such sport, next shootintr season ! If I had but a double-barrelled gun — !^ir C. Take mine, that hangs in the hall. OIL My dear Sir Charles ! \ Aside.] Here's a moming^a work ! [Aloud.] Senna and colinquintida — Sir C. \Impatienthj.] Well, be gone, then ! Oil. [Goi7)g.] I'm off! [Returnijig.] Scammony and gam- bouge — Sir C. Nay — fly, man ! Oil. [Alternately going and returning.] I do, Sir Charles. A double-barrelled gun ! — I fly ! — The bark — I'm going!— Juno, the bitch !— A narcotic — Sir C. Oh ! the devil ! [Fushing Jiim off, r. END OF ACT I. ACT II. Scene I. — The Outside of Farmer Flarrowhy' s House. Enter Farmer Harrowby a7id Corporal Foss, r. u. e. Far. (r.) We am not discoursing about your master's bravery, nor his ableness, Mr. Corporal ; it be about his goodness and that like. Foss. (l.) a good officer, do you see, can't help being a kind-hearted man ; for one of his foremost duties tells him to study the comforts of the poor pec>ple below him. Far. Dang it ! that be the duty of our churchwardens ; but many poor people do complain of 'em. Foss. An officer, Mr. Harrowby, isn't a bit like a church- warden. Ship off an officer, we'll say, with his company, to a foreign climate : he lands, and endures heat, cold, fa- tigue, hunger, thirst, sickness; — now marching over the burning plain ; now up to his knees in wet, in the trench ; now — Rot it, farmer ! how can a man suffer such hard- ships, with a parcel of honest fellows under his command, and not learn to feel for his fellow-creatures ? 20 THE POOR GENTl EMAN. fAoT II. Far. Well, and that be true, sare ! And have your master, Lieutenant Worthington, learnt this % Foss. His honour was behjved by the whole regiment. When his wife was shot in his arms, as she lay in his tent, there wasn't a dry eye in our corps. Far. Shot in his arms ! And was she, though 1 Foss. I never like to think on't, because — Pshaw ! \Wip' ing Jiis eyes.] I hate to be unsoldier-like ; I whimpered enough about it, seventeen years ago. Far. Nay, take no shame, Mr. Corporal, take no shame. Honest tears, upon honest faces, am, for all the world, like growing showers upon my meadows — the wet do raise their value. Foss. However, he had something left to console him, after her death. Far. And what ware that ] Foss. 'Twas his child, Mr. Harrowby. Our Miss Emily was then but three years old. I have heard his honour say, her mother had fled to the abode of peace, and left her innocent in the lap of war. Far. Pretty soul ! sha must ha' been quite scared and frightful. Foss. She did'nt know her danger. She little thought, then, that a chance-ball might take her father, too, and leave her a helpless orphan, in a strange country. Far. And if it had so fell out 1 Foss. Why, then, perhaps, nothing would have been left her but a poor corporal, to buckle her on his knapsack. But I would have struggled hard with fortune, to rake up a lit- tle pittance for the child of a kind master, whom I had fol- lowed through many a campaign, and seen fight his first battle, and liis last. Far. Do give us your hand, Mr. Corporal. I'll be shot now, if 1 could see an old soldier travelling by, wi' his knapsack loaded in that manner, and not call him in, to cheer the poor soul on his journey ! Foss. I thank you very kindly, Mr. Harrowby ; but Pro- vidence ordered things otherwise ; for, on the thirteenth of September, in the year eighty-two, a few months after my poiu" mistress's death, the burstino^ of a shell in the garri- son crushed his honour's arm almost to shivers ; and I got wounded on the cap of my knee here. It disabled us both from ever serving again. SceweI.] the poor gentleman. 21 Far. That turned out but a badish day's work, Mr. Cor- poral. Foss. It turned out one of the best day's works, for the service, that ever was seen, Mr. Harrowby ; for, on that day, our brave General Elliot gave the Frenchmen and Spaniards as hearty a drubbing, at Gibraltar, as ever they had in their lives. A true soldier, Mr. Harrowby, would part with all his limbs, and his life after them, rather than our country should have lost the glory of that day. Far. And how long, now, might you lay in your wounds and torments, Mr. Corporal % Foss. 'Twas some time before either of us could be mov- ed ; and when we could — being unfit for duty any longer — I followed his honour, with little Miss Emily, into Ame- rica, where the war was newly finished : for things are cheap there, Mr. Harrowby, and that best suits a lieute- nant's pocket. Far. 1 do fear it do, indeed, Mr. Corporal. Foss. But we had a pretty cottage in Canada, on the banks of the river St. Lawrence ; shut out from all the world, as I may say. Far. Desperate lonesome, sure, for soldiers, who am used to be in bustle. Foss. Why, we soon grew used to it, Mr. Harrowby ; and should never have left it, perhaps, if something had'nt called his honour, a year ago, into England. Far. Well, I must away about the farm ; and do tell your master, Mr. Corporal — tell him gently, though, for he be a little touchy like, I do see — that if so be things am cheap in America, they mayn't be found a morsel dearer here, when a wounded English soldier do sit at the door of an English farmer. [Exit, ii. Enter Stephen Harrov.t.y. z.. ibcc. \^i:^inging.] " Dumbarton's drums b^at "l>unny. Oh '" If you am exposed to drill a bit, corporal, now be your time. Foss. You are back early to-day, my honest lad. Ste. Yes : I do love to be betimes at parade. You'll never find I last comer, when mer am to be mustarded, 1 ha* finished my work out right, Foss. You have lost no time, then. 22 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act II Sic. No ; I ha* lost a cart and horses. Foss, Lost a cart and horses 1 Ste. Ay, as good ; for as I ware a coming back, empty- handed, wi' our cart, J thought I might as well practise a little, as I walked by the side on't ; — so I held up my head — in the milentary fashion, you do know — and began a marching, near-foot foremost, to the tune of the British Grenadiers. Foss. Weir^ Stc. Dang it ! while I ware a carrying my head up, as straight as a hop-pole, our leading horse, blind Argus, drags lean Jolly, wi' the cart at his tail, into a slough. Foss. Zounds! so you plunged the baggage into a mo rass 1 Ste. I don't know what you do call a morass : but they am sticking up to their necks in the mud, at the bottom of Waggon Lodge Field. Foss. Oh, fie ! you should have looked to them better. Ste. Looked to 'em ! Why, how could that possible be, mun, when you teach T to hold my nose to the clouds, like a j^ig in the wind 1 Ollcupod. I 'Wit}ioyt?\^ Here, Juno ! Juno ! Put my poin- ter into your stable, my lad. Thank ye — if ever you're ill, I'll physic you for nothing. Stc. Oh, that be Mr. Ollapod, the pottercarrier. Enter Ollapod, with a douhle-har relied gun, l. Oil. Stephen, how's your health 1 Fine weather for the farmers. [Crossing to r.] Corporal, I've heard of you ; — charming spring for campaigning ! — I am Cornet Ollapod, of the Galen's head ; come to pay my respects to your fa- mily. Ste])hen, how's your father, and his hogs, geese, daughter, wife, bullocks, and so forth 1 Are the partridges beginning to lay yet, Stephen *? Ste. (l.) Am you come to shoot the young bii-ds, before they am hatched, wi' that double-barrelled gun, Mr. Olla- pod 1 OIL (c.) Come, that's very well ! very well indeed for a bumpkin ! Thank you, good Stephen : I owe you half a one! [To Corporal Foss.\ I hope your master. Lieute- nant Worthington's well, whose acquaintance I covet. We soldiers mix together as naturally as medicine in a mortar 8c£neI.] the poor gentleman. 23 Foss. Is your honour in the army, then ? Ste. He be only a coronet in the town corpse. OIL [^l.'iidc.\ I wish that lout had a locked jaw! Our association is as fine, and, I may say, without vanity, will be as healthy a corps, when their spring physic is finished, as any regular regiment in England, Foss. VVhy, your honour, I have seen a good deal of ser- vice ill the regular way, and know nothing about associa- tions ; but I think, an' please your honour, if men take up arms to defend their countiy, they deserve to be thanked and respected for it ; and it doesn't signify a brass farthing what they are called. OIL Right — the name's nothing: merit's all. Rhu- barb's rhubarb, call it what you will. Do you take. Cor- poral ? do you take 1 Foss. I never took any in all my life, an' please your ho- nour. OIL That's very well — very well, indeed ! Thank you, corporal ; I owe you one ! Now introduce me to the fa- mily. Foss. I can't without orders ; and his honour has walk- ed out. OIL That's right : exercise is conducive to health. I'll walk in. Foss. Under favour, your honour, I stand sentinel here, and I can't let a stranger j^ass without consulting the gar- rison. If you please to saunter about for half an hour, I shall speak to our ladies, and — 0/L Well, do so. Stephen, come with me about the grounds. Ste. I don't like to march wi' you, Mr. Ollapod — you am no regular. Dang me if I budge wl' him, corporal, with- out your word of command ! OIL But d — n it, I'm of the cavalry ! Ste. No matter for that. You am upon our ground, and unhorsed. Now, corporal. OIL Well, if I must, I— Foss. March ! Sle. Come, pottercarrier. [Sings.] Tol de rol, &c, [Ex- eunt Stcj)hen and OUaiwd, l., and Corporal Foss into the house, r. u. e. 24 THE POOR GENTLExMAN. f Act 11 Scene II. — A Parlour in Farmer Harrowhifs House — chain and a table, loitli ivork-boxes, pens, ink, jyajper, ^c. Miss LucRETiA Mac Tab discovered looking over a shabby memorandum book^ r., and Emily Worthington at nee- dlework, L. LiUc. Miss Emily Worthington, you have vvoiked those flowers most miserably, child. Emily. Dear, now, I am very sorry for that, I was in hopes they might have sold for something in London, that I might have surprised my father with the money. Luc. Sold ! — Ah, you have none of the proper pride which my side of the family should have given you. But let me look over my expenses since we have been here. [Reads.]^ " To one week's washing and darning for the Ho- nourable Miss Jjucretia Mac Tab, one and sevenpence.'^ — By the bye, Miss Emily, that sprig of myrtle is thicker than a birch broom, and the white rose looks just like a powder- puff. Eniihj. Indeed, I copied them from nature, grand aunt. Luc. Grand aunt ! Y'ou know 1 hate that hideous title ; but 'tis the fault of your wild American education. Emily. Nay, there can be no fault in that ; for my dear father educated me himself, in our little cottage in Canada. Luc. He might have taught you, then, a little more re- spect for me, who am of the elevated part of the family. — \^Reads.^ ** Snuff from the chandler, a halfpenny^'' — You know, child, I am your relation on your deceased mother's side, and of the noble blood of the Mac Tabs. Emily. Yes, I know that now ; but my poor mother had no relation on her side, when her father, Lord Lofty, aban- doned her for marrying. Luc. My brother, Lord Lofty, acted as became his rank. You will please to recollect he was one of the oldest ba- rons in Scotland. Emily. Was he, indeed ! And you were born only three years after him, grand aunt ! Luc. Miss Emily, your ignorance is greater than — ^Ri- sing\ — I meant his title is one of the most ancient of the barony ; and he might well be offended at the marriage of my deceased niece, his daughter ; for, you know, your fa- ther is a mere But, no matter Scene II.] THE FOL t. GENTLEMAN 25 Emily. Tndeetl, but it does matter, though. My father is a gentleman by birth, education, and manners ; and that's a character as well deserving respect as the proudest peer in the realm. Luc. And pray, what have T insinuated against your fa- ther % On the contrary, you might remember ho\y hand- somely I have offered him my countenance. Einily. I remember it was a year ago that you came, and said you would live with us : when your brother, Lord Lofty, died so much in debt, and left you destitute. hue. More shame for him ! But didn't I, then, affec- tionately fly to your father, and tell him I would allow him ' the honour to maintain me for the future 1 And haven't I, notwithstanding his obscure situation and narrow finances, kindly lived at the lieutenant's charge, in the most conde- scending way in the world ] Emily. Condescending ! Luc. Yes, Miss Emily ; but, it seems, by forgetting me, you forget yourself. E7nihj. No, indeed. I know my situation. I am a poor officer's child, born in the seat of war ; reared afterwards in the wilds of America — reared by a kind father, with more cost than his poverty could well bestow. He has dropped, in our retreat, many and many a tear of affection on me ; and, as often as I have seen him mourn my mo- ther's loss, I have wondered to think that her father, in splendour could be so hard-hearted, while mine, in poverty, was so kind ! L?/c. Still on the cruelty of your mother's relations ! But, would you be guided by me, Miss Emily, I would make your fortune. Had you followed my opinion, before we left town, relative to Sir Charles Cropland, as a hus- band — Emily Oh, pray don't mention his name ! Ltic. And why not, JMiss Emily ? Emily. Because I am sure he is a libertine. The fami- liar looks he srave me — o Luc. Looks! psha! Sir Charles's are the manners, child, of our young men of high fashion. Emily. 'Tis a great pity, then, ouryoungmeLof high fa. ehion have sf) insulting a way of noticing lowly virtue. A coxcomb, tliat stares humb 3 modesty out of countenanceii 26 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. (Act II. must be a very cruel coxcomb ; and 'tis a sad thi^g for the heart to be unfeeling, when the head is empty. Luc. Ha ! another of your Canada crotchets, hatched on the banks of the St. Lawrence, where solitude sits brooding on romance ! But will you follow my counsel ? 'Emily. In respect to Charles Cropland? No — never. You received his visits without my father's knowledge. 1 would not wed the worthiest man without his consent ; and he would not command me to wed the wealthiest, whom I could not esteem. Luc. Psha ! your father's doctrines, child, have made him a besrorar. Emily. \ With icarmth.\ A beggar ! No, madam ; he is rich enough to shelter you, who asperse him ! Luc. Shelter I — Shelter, indeed, to a Mac Tab, who af fords him her countenance ! I shall acquaint your father, Miss Emily, with your rudeness to me. Emily. Acquaint him with all, madam. Tell him, when his daughter hears him misrepresented by — Tell him You break my heart, madam ! Tell him what you please. Enter Corporal Foss, r. Eoss. I am come, an' please you, with intelligence of — What, is my young lady a-crying % Luc. Deliver your message, fellow, and ask no ques lions ! Foss. An' please your ladyship's honour, when an old soldier sees a woman in distress, 'tis to be hoped he may take just half a moment to give her some comfort. \Cros- sing, L.] Miss Emily ! Luc. (r.) Blockhead! what excuse has a soldier for half a moment's delay in his business ? Eoss. (c.) The best excuse, an' please you, may be half a moment's charity. A kind commander is loth to punish a poor fellow for doing what Heaven rewards. [Gnng to Emily.] What's the matter. Miss Emily 1 Emily, (l.) 'Tis nothing, good corporal ; lead me to the door of my chamber. [Foss is going. Luc. You may be taught your duty to me better, sir. Foss. I humbly beg your pardon. ; but my first duty, in these quarters, is to my master and his child ; I know that as a servant. My second is, tr a woman in grief; I am Scene II .1 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 27 sure of that, as a man. My third, is to your ladyship's ho. nour; and I'll be back to perform it in as quick a march as a crii^ple can make of it. Come, Miss Emily, come ! [Exit; leading Emily, l. Luc. Provoking ! a stupid, technical old— But what can a woman of birth expect, when the ducks waddle into her drawing-room, and her groom of the chambers is a lame soldier of foot % Rc-entc7- Corporal Foss, l, Foss. [Crossing to u.] There is one Mr. Ollapod at the gate, an' please your ladyship's honour, come to pay a visit to the family. Luc. Ollapod ! What is the gentleman ] Foss. He says he's a cornet in the Galen's Head. 'Tis the first time I ever heard of the corps. L7W. Ha ! some new-raised I'egiment. Show the gen- tleman in. [Exit Foss, r.] The country, then, has heard of my arrival at last. A woman of condition in a family can never long conceal her retreat. Ollapod ! that sounds like an ancient name. U I am not mistaken, he is nobly descended. Enter Ollapod, r. OlJa. Madam, I have the honour of paying my respects. Sweet spot here, among the cows ; good for consumptions. Charming woods hereabouts ! Pheasants flourish— so do agues. Sorry not to see the good lieutenant — admire his room — hope soon to have his company. Do you take, good madam ? do you take 1 Lvc. I beg, sir, you will be seated. Olla. [Sitti??g down, r. c] Oh, dear madam ! [Aside] A charming chair to bleed in ! Lt/c. 1 am sorry Mr. Worthington is not at home to re- ceive you, sir. Olla. You are a relation of the lieutenant, madam ? Li/c.ll only by his marriage, I assure you, sir. Aunt to his. deceased wife. But 1 am not surprised at your question. My friends in town would wonder to see the Honourable Miss Lucretia Mac Tab, sister to the late Lord Lofty, coojjed up in a farm-house, Olla. [Aside] The Honorable ! Humph! a bit of qua- 28 THE POOR GENTLEMA^. [AcT II. lity tumbled into decay. The sister of a dead peer in a pig-stye ! Luc. You are of the military, I am informed, sir. Olla. He ! he ! yes, madam. Cornet Ollapod, of on volunteers — a fine healthy troop, ready to give the enemy a dose, whenever they dare to attack us. Lite. I was always prodigiously partial to the military. My great grandfather, Marmaduke, Baron Lofty, com manded a troop of horse, under the Duke of Marlborough, that famous general of his age. Olla. Marlborough was a hero of a man, madam, and lived at Woodstock — a sweet sporting country, where Ro- samond perished by poison — arsenic, as like as anything. Luc. And have you served much, Mr. Ollapod 1 Olla. He ! he ! Yes, madam — served all the nobility and gentry for miles round. Luc. Sir ! Olla. And shall be happy to serve the good lieutenant and his family. [Bows. Luc. We shall be proud of your acquaintance, sir. A gentleman in the army is always an acquisition among the Goths and Vandals of the country, where every sheepish squire has the air of an apothecary. Olla. Madam ! An apothe — Zounds ! — hum ! — He ! he ! I — You must know I — [Shcejyishli/,] I deal a little in Galenicals myself. Luc. Galenicals ! Oh, they are for operations, I sup- pose, among the military. Olla. Operations ! He ! he ! Come, that's very well, very well indeed ! Thank you, good madam, I owe you one. Galenicals, madam, are medicines. Luc. Medicines ! Olla. Yes, physic : buckthorn, senna, and so forth. Lmc. [Risi?ig.\ Why, then, you are an apothecary ! Olla. [Rising and bowing.] And man mid-wife at your service, madam ! Luc. At my service, indeed ! Olla. Yes, madam : Cornet Ollapod, at the gilt Galen's Head — of the volunteer association coi-jis of cavalry ; as ready for the foe as a customer — always willing to charge tiiem both. Do you take, good madam 1 do you take ? SCBHEII.] THE POOFw GENTLEMAN. 29 Luc. And has the Honourable Miss Lucretia Mac Tab been talking all this while to a petty dealer in drugs 1 Olla. Drugs ! [Aside.] D — me ! she turns up her honor- able nose as if she was going to swallow them ! — [Aloud.] No man more respected than myself, madam ; — courted by the corps — idolized by invalids ; and for a shot, ask my friend, Sir Charles Cropland. Luc. Is Sir Charles Cropland a friend of yours, sir? Olla. Intimate. He doesn't make wry faces at physic, whatever others may do, madam. This village flanks the intrenchments of his park — full of fine fat venison, which is as light a food for digestion as — Luc. But he is never on his estate here, I am told. Olla. He quarters there at this moment. Luc. Bless me ! has Sir Charles, then — Olla. Told me all — your accidental meeting in the me- tropolis, and his visits when the lieutenant was out. Luc. Oh, shocking ! — I declare I shall faint ! — Olla. Faint ! — Never mind that, with a medical man in the room ; I can bring you about in a twinkling. Luc. And what has Sir Charles Cropland presumed to advance about me % Olla. Oh, nothing derogatory — respectful as a duck-leg- ged drummer to a commander-in-chief. Luc. I have only proceeded in this affair from the purest motives, and in a mode becoming a Mac Tab. Olla. None dare to doubt it. Luc. And if Sir Charles has dropped in to a dish of tea with myself and Emily, in London, when the lieutenant was out, I see no harm in it. Olla. Nor I neither ! except that tea shakes the nervous system to shatters. But to the point : the baronet's my bosom friend ! — having heard you were here, " Ollapod," says he, squeezing my hand in his own, which had strong symptoms of fever, "Ollapod," says he, "you are a milita- ry man, and may be trusted." " I'm a cornet," says I, " and close as a pill-box." " Fly, then, to Miss Lucretia Mac Tab, that honorable picture of prudence " Luc. He ! he !— Did Sir Charles say that ] Olla, [Aside.] How these tabbies love to be toaded ? Luc In short, Sir Charles, I perceive, has appointed dtl THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act Ilf. you lis emissary, to consult with rne when he may have an interview. Olla. Madam, you are the sharpest shot at the truth t ever met in my life. And now we are in consultdtion, wiiat think you of a walk with MissEmily by the old elms, at the back of the village, this evening 1 Lite. Why, I am willing to take any steps which may promote Emily's future welfare. Olla. Take steps ! — What, in a walk 1 He ! he ! Come, that's very well — very well, indeed ! Thank you, good madam ; I owe you one ! I shall communicate to my friend with due dispatch. Command Cornet Ollapod on all occasions; and whatever the gilt Galen's Head caii produce — Luc. [Curtsey mg.] Oh, sir! Olla. By the bye, I have some double-distilled lavender water, much admired in our corps. Permit me to send a pint bottle, by way of present. Luc. Dear sir, I shall rob you. Olla. Quite the contrary — [Asidc.]^ for I'll set it down to Sir Charles as a quart. [Boivhig to hcr.]^ Madam, your slave ! [GoiJig, r.] You have prescribed for our patient like an able physician. [She crosses, r.] Not a step I Luc. Nay, I insist 1 Olla. Then I must follow in the rear : the physician al- ways before the apothecary. Luc. Apothecary ! — Sir, in this business, I look upon you as a general officer. Olla. Do you 1 Thank you, good ma'am ; I owe you one ! [Exeunt, r. END OF ACT 11. ACT III. Scene I. — An Apartment in Sir Robert Brajnhle's House — Chairs, 8fc. Enter Sir Rorert Bramble and Huinipiirey Dobijins, r. Sir R. I tell you what, Humphrey Dobbins — there isn'f ScKNE l.j THE POOR GENTLEMAN 31 a syllable of sense in all you have been saying; but, I suppose, you will maintain that there is 1 Dob. Yes. Sir R. Yes ! — Is that the way you talk to me, you olJ boar 1 What's my name ] Dob. Robert Bramble. Sir R. Ar'n't I a baronet— Sir Robert Bramble, of Black- berry Hall, in the county of Kent] 'Tis time you should kno'w it ; for you have been my clumsy, two-fisted valet- de-chambre these thirty years. Can you deny that] Dob. Umph! Sir R. Umph ! — What the devil do you mean by umph ! Open the rusty door of your mouth, and make your ugly voice walk out of it. Why don't you answer my ques- tion ] Dob. Because, if I contradicted you there, I should tell a lie ; and whenever I agree with you, you are sure to fall out. Sir R. Humphrey Dobbins, I have been so long endea- vouring to beat a few brains inio your pate, that all your hair has tumbled oft" it, before I can carry my point. Dob. What then ] Our parson says, my head is an em- blem of both our honours. Sir JR. Ay, because honours, like your head, are apt to be empty. Dob. No ; but if a servant has grown bald under his master's nose, it looks as if there was honesty on one side, and regard for it on t'other. Sir R. Why, to be sure, old Humphrey, you are as ho nest a — Pshaw! the parson means to palaver us! — But, to return to my position — I tell you, I don't like your flat contradiction. Dob. Yes, you do. Sir R. 1 tell you, I don't. I only love to hear men's arguments, and I hate their flummery. Dob. What do you call flummery 1 Sir R. Flattery, you blockhead !— d dish too often served up by paltry poor men to paltry rich ones. Dob. T never serve it up to you. Sir R. No, I'll be sworn : you give m.e a dish of a dif* ferent description. Dob. Umph ! — What is it ] ^2 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act lit Su R. Sour krout, you old ci'ab. Doh. I have held you a stout tug at argumnnt thiis many \ year. Sir R. And yet I could never teach you a syllogism, — Now, mind : when a ]:)Oor man assents to what a rich man says, I suspect he means to flatter him. Now I am rich, and hate flattery ; ergo, when a poor man subscribes to my o])inion, I hate him. Dob. That's wrong. Sh' R. Very well — ncgatur. Now prove it Doh. Put the case so, then : I am a poor man — Sir R. You lie, you scoundrel ! — You know you shall never want while I have a shilling. Doh. Bless you ! * Sir R. Psha ! — Proceed. Doh. Well, then, I am a poor 1 must be a poor man now, or I shall never get on. Sir R. Well, p^et on — be a poor man ! Dob. I am a poor mail, and 1 argue with you, and con vince you you are wrong; then you call yourself a block head, and I am of your opinion. Now, that's no flattery. Sir R. Why, no ; but when a man's of the same opinion with me, he puts an end to the argument, and that puts an end to conversation ; so I hate him for that. But where's my nephew, Frederick 1 Dob. Been out these two hours. Sir R. An undutiful cub! only arrived from Russia last night ; and though 1 told him to stay at home till 1 rose, he's scampering over the fields like a Calmuc Tartar. Dob He's a line fellow. Sir R. He has a touch of our family. Don't you think he's a little like me, Humphrey? Dob. Bless you, not a bit : you are as ugly an old man as ever I clapped my eyes on. Sir R. Now, that's d — d impudent ! But there's no flat- tery in it, and it keeps up the independence of argument. His father, my brother Job, is of as tame a spirit Hum- phrey, you remember my brother .Job ] Dob. Yes ; you drove him U) Russia, five and twenty years ago. Sir R. [jingril]/.] I drove hiia ! Scene I] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 98 Doh. Yes, you did : you would never let him be at peaco in the way of argument. Sir R. At peace ! — Zounds ! he would never go to war. Doh. He had the meiit to be calm. Sir R. So has a duck-pond. He was a bit of still life ; a chip ; weak water-gruel ; a tame rabbit, boiled to rags, without sauce or salt. He received men's arguments with his jnourh open, like a poor's-box gaping for half-pence; and, good or bad, he swallowed them all, without any re- sistance. We couldn't disagree, and so we parted. Dob. And the poor, meek gentleman went to Russia for a quiet life. Sir Br. A quiet life ! — Why, he married the moment he got there ; tacked himself to the shrew relict of a Russian merchant ; and continued a speculation with her in furs, flax, pot-ashes, tallow, linen, and leather. And what's the consequence 1 Thirteen months ago, he broke. Doh. Poor soul ! his wife should have followed the bu- siness for him. Sir R. I fancy she did follow it, for she died just as it went to the devil. And now this mad-cap, Frederick, is sent over to me for protection. Poor Job ! now he's in distress, I mustn't neglect his son. [Frederick is heard singing tvithout, l. Doh. Here comes his son — that's Mr. Frederick. Enter Frederick, l. Fre. Ah ! my dear uncle, good morning ! Your park is nothing but beauty. Sir R. Who bid you caper over my beauty] I told you to stay in d(jors till I got u]). Fre. Eh 1 — Egad ! so you did. I had as entirely for- gotten it as — Sir R. And, pray, what made you forget it 1 Fre. The sun. Sir R. The sun 1 — He's mad ! You mean the moon, 1 believe. Fre. Oh, my dear sir! you don't know the effect of a fine S[jbi'ing moining upon a young fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright — trees buddinjj — birds singing — the park was gay — so, egad ! I took a hop, step, and a jump, out if your old balcony ; made your deer fly 34 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act III before me like the wind ; and chased them all round the park to get an appetite, while you were snoring in Led, uncle ! Sir R, Ah ! so the effect of an English sun upon a young Russian, is to make him jump out of a balcony, and worry my deer 1 Fre. I confess it had that influence upon me. Sir R. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you tliink the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. Frc. Sir, I hate fat legacies. Sir R. Sir, that's mighty singular. They are pretty solid tokens of kindness, at least. Frc. Very melancholy tokens, uncle ; they are the pos- thumous despatches Affection sends to Gratitude, to in- form us we have lost a generous friend. Sir R. [Aside.] How charmingly the dog argues ! Fre. But I own my spirits ran away with me this morn- ing. I will obey you better in future ! for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of old gentleman. Sir R. Now who had the familiar impudence to tell you that 1 Fre, (l.) Old Rusty, there. Sir R. (c.) Why, Humphrey, you didn't 1 Dob. (r.) Yes, but I did, though. Fre. Yes, he did ; and, on that score, I shall be anxious to show you obedience ; — for 'tis as meritorious to attempt sharing in a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have de- signs upon a rich man's money. A noble nature aims its attentions full breast high, uncle ; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the pocket. Sir R. [Emhracing him.] Jump out of every window I have in my house ! hunt my deer into high fevers, my fine fellow ! — Ay, d — n it ! this is spunk and plain speaking ! Give me a man who is always plumping his dissent to my doctrine smack in my teeth ! Fre. I disagree with you there, uncle. Doh. So do I. Frc. You, you forward J^uppy ! — If you were not so old, I'd knock you down. Su- R. I'll knock you down if you do ! I won't have ray servants thumped into dumb flattery ; I won't let you teach 'em to make silence a toad-eater. Scene I.l THE POOR GENTLEMAN. ^ Doh. Come, you're ruffled. Let's go tc the business of the morning. Sir R. D — n the business of the morning ! Don't you see we're engaged in discussion % I hate the business of the morning ! Dob. No, you don't. Sh' R. And why not % Doh. Because 'tis charity. Sir R. Psha! — Well, we musn't neglect business. It there be any distresses in the parish, read the morning list, Humphrey. VoIj. [ Taking out a jmpcr, and looking over it.^ Jonathan Huggins, of Muck Mead, is put into prison. Sir R. Why, 'twas but last week. Gripe, the attorney, recovered two cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds, Doh. And charged a hundred and ten for his trouble. So seized the cottages for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan in gaol for the remainder. Sir R. A harpy ! — I must relieve the poor fellow's dis- tress. Fre. And I must kick his attorney. Dob. \Loo/dng at the list.] The curate's horse is dead. Sir R. Psha ! there's no distress in that. Dob. Yes, there is, to a man who must go twenty miles every Sunday to preach three sermons, for thirty pounds a year. Sir R. Why won't Punmock, the vicar, give him ano- ther nag 1 Dob. Because 'tis cheaper to get another curate ready mounted. Sir R. What's the name of the black pad I purchased last Tuesday at Tunbridge 1 Dob. Beelzebub. Sir R. Send Beelzebub to the curate, and tell him to work him as long as he lives. Frc. And if you have a tumble-down tit, send him to the vicar, to give him a chance of breaking his neck. SirR. What else 1 Dob. Somewhat out of the common. There's one Lieu- tenant Worthington, a disabled officer and a widr wer, come to lodge at Farmer Harro why's, in the village. He's pla- 36 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [AcT III guy poor indeed, it seems, but more proud than poor, and more honest than proud. ^ Frc. That sounds hke a nohlc character. Sir R. And so he sends to me for assistance % Doh. He'd see you hanged first ! Harrowby says, he'd sooner die than ask any man for a shilling. There's his daughter, and his dead wife's aunt, and an old corporal that has served in the wars with him ; he keeps them all upon his half-pay. Sir R. Starves them all, I am afraid, Humphrey. Fre. [Crossing to r.] Uncle, good morning. Sir R. Where the devil are you rnnninp now ? Fi'e. To talk to Lieutenant Worthington. Sir R. And what may you be going to say to him t Frc. I can't tell till I encounter him ; and then, uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand, who is disa- bled in his country's service, and struggling to support his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honourable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to exj^ress my sentiments. [Hurrying off. Sir R. Stop, you rogue ! — I must be before you in this business. Frc. That depends upon who can run fastest. So start fair, uncle ; and here goes ! [Exit hastily, r. Sir R. Stop! why, Frederick ! — A jackanapes! to take my department out of my hands ! I'll disinherit the dog for his assurance ! Doh. No, you won't. Sir R. Won't 1 1 D— me, if I— But we'll argue that point as we go. Come along, Humphrey ! [Exeunt, r. Scene H. — The Exterior of Farmer Harroivhy's House. Enter Corporal Foss, l., aiid crossing to r., followed hy Stephen Harrowby. Ste. [Calling after hi?n.] Hollo! I say, Mr. Corporal! Foss. Ah, Master Stephen ! is it you 1 Ste. W^hat do you think I ha' been about ! Foss. Getting the cart and horses out of the mud, I sup- pose. Ste. No ; feyther's head man be gone to dextricate the SCEKE II.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 37 cattle. But you was telling I t'other clay, you do know, about a springing up of a mine, which be done by a man they do call a pie on an ear. Pass. A pioneer is our name for it, my honest lad. — Ay, I have seen some of that work in my day. Master Stephen. If we could but get a little spot of ground, now, with a b^t <^»^ good-for-nothing building upon it — Sfe. I ha' found out just such a pleace, Mr. Corporal. Foss. Then I'll show you the whole process. Sfe. I ha' done the whole progress myself. Foss. Have you 1 Sfe. You do know feyther's pig-sty 1 Foss. Yes : it stands on the edge of the dry ditch, at the back of the house, Sfe. That's where it did use to stand, sure enow ; but I ha* blowed it up with gunpowder. Foss. The devil you have ! — And how 1 Sfe. All according to rule, mun — just as you laid it down. I bored a hole under the ditch wi' the peel o^ our oven, and then 1 laid in my bumbustibles. Foss. Well 1 Sfe. Why, I clapped the kitchen poker to un, red hot; and it all went up wi' a desperate complosion, just as you destroyed that outlandish buttery. Foss. Bless us. Master Stephen ! then you have ruined the town in cold blood, and killed all the inhabitants ! Sfe. No ; the inhabitants am lying in the ditch, as pert as daisies ; only the little pigs am singed quite bald, and the old white sow be as black as the devil. Enfe?- Mary, l. Mari/. Brother Stephen ! come here, brother Stephen. Feyther do vow vengeance against ye. If you do go on o' this fashion, what will the neighbors call ye, Stephen ] Sfe. Call me ! — Why, a perspiring young hero, of five foot six inches, willing to mortalize himself in the field of March ! Fnfer Lieutenant Worthington, l., — Jie crosses and exits info house, r. u. e. Foss. There — his honour is come home ; I must gf) iu for orders. 38 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. •^A.cT III Ma?}/. Oh, Mr. Corporal, Joe Shambles, the butcher's boy, ha' brought this from our town for your master. [Gives a letter. Foss. One letter ! Is this all he left for us, my pretty maid 1 Mary. No ; he left a leg of mutton. Foss. Oh ! [Exit into the house, R, u. E. Ste. How stately Mr. Corporal do march, surely ! He be as upright as our gander. Come, Mai-y ; afore feyther do come home, let's you and I go wash the gunpowder pigs. Marij. How, Stephen 1 Ste. We'll go to the dairy, and chuck 'em into the milk pails. Farmer Harrowhy. [Calling icithout, l.] Stephen ! Ste. Wauns ! there be feyther ! — Run, Mary, run ! [Exeunt into the house, r. u. e. Scene IH. — The Parlour in Farmer Harrowhy's House — tahle and chairs, c. Enter Lieutenant Worthington and Corporal Foss, r. Wor. Where are the ladies, corporal ? Foss. They are gone to take a walk, an' please your honour. ^Vor. [Seating himself.^ Oh ! mine has somewhat fa- tigued me. Foss. Under favour, I think your honour takes too much exercise ; it always brings on the torme.it in your wound again. Wor. You bustle about for me more than I could wish, corporal. You got your w^ound in an ugly jilace, you know. Foss. I got it at Gibraltar — the same ugly place with your honour. That cursed shell struck us both together. Wor. [Sighing.^ I remember it did, corporal. Foss. And when I lay on the ground, and your honour's left arm was so terribl; wounded, you stretched out your right to help me. Wor. T don't rememb«»r that, corporal. Foss. Don't you 'i — But I do ; [ Warmly.] and I wish I may be damned if ever I *brget it ! ScEWE III.] " THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 39 IVo?'. Well, well ! do not let us swear about it, corpo- ral. Foss. I hate swearing, your honour, as much as our chap- lain loved brandy ; but when a man's heart's too full, I fancy, somehow, there's an oath at the top on't, and when that pops out, he's easy. Ah ! we had warm work that day, your honour. Wo/\ We had indeed, corporal. Foss. There was Crillon's batteries, and four thousand men, behind us at land. JVor. Moreno, with his fleet, before us at sea. Foss. At ten in the morning, the Spanish admiral began his cannonade. Wor. Our battery from the king's bastion opened di- I'ectly. Foss. Red-hot shot poured from the garrison ! Wor. Cannons roar ! Foss. Mortars and howitzers ! Wor. The enemy's shipping in flames! Foss. Fire again ! Wor. They burn ! Foss. They blow up ! Wor. They sink ! Foss. Victory ! — " Old England forever, your honour!" Huzza! *' TFor. Ay, corporal, against the world in arms. Old *' England forever !" Balk. Huzza ! Foss. [Gravehj, after a 2)ttusc.] We have no limbs to help our country now ; — we shall never fight for her again, your honour ! Wor. [Mournfully.] No, corporal ; 'tis impossible ! Foss. 13ut our hearts are for our country still ! though your honour has only half-pay, and I am but an out-pen- sioner of Chelsea. Wor. W.e have no right to complain, corjioral. National bwmty, beyond its limits, would be national waste ; and 'tis impossible to provide sum])tuously for all. Foss. That's true, your honour f every hero that loses his life in the field, must not expect a marble monument. Wor. 'Tis of little import, corporal : a gallant soldier's memory will flourish, though humble turf be osier-bound 40 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Aci III, upon his grave The tears of his country will moisten it, and vigorous laurel sprout among the cypress that shadows his remains. But 'tis a bitter thought, when we must de- part, to leave unprotected the few who are joined with us in the ties of affection, and the bonds of nature ! Foss. Your honour is joined in no bond with any body but Mr. Burford for five hundred pounds. Wor. [S?)iihng.] I did not mean that, corporal. There, however, I am easy : my friend has strict honour ; and, should he die; the regular insurance of his life secures me from injury in lending him my name. But 'tis strange I have not heard from him. Foss. I had forgot ; here is a letter just brought for your honour. Shall I break the seal 1 Wor. Let me see. [Ojycning it and reading.] " Tun- hridge.^^ 'Tis written in the neigbouring town. Who should know me there ? [Readhig .] " Sir, I am instructed hy Mr. Ferret, solicitor, of London, to inform you, that Mr. Burford died, on the 2Qth idtimo, on his icay to the insurance office ; whereby the policy, icliich had cxjyired, the day before, is become void, and. the bond and ivarrant of attorney for five hundred founds, remain in force against you. If the money he not paid forthwith, I shcdl enter v.p judgment, instantly, for the recovery of the sa)7ie.'" My child ! my child ! [Siriks into a chair. Foss. Your honour ! Wor. Ruined past hope ! Foss. ^Apiiroaching him.] Don't say that, your honour ; for while yoUr half-jiay continues — Wor. My creditor will grasp all ! my person seized, and my poor child destitute ! Foss. Destitute! — What, my young mistress 1 — And you 1 and — Don't give way to grief, your honour ! I am lame to be sure, but I am fit for labour still. There's my little penpion, too, from Chelsea. Things may come about; and, till they do, you and my young mistress shall never know want, while the old corporal has a limb le'ft to work, or a penny in his pocket. Wor. Corporal, I — Enter Frederick hastily, r. Fre. [Aside.] Yes, this is he I Zounds ' I am quite out Scene III.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 41 of breath! [To WortJiington.] Sir, I am come to — Whew! I beg* pardon : but, as you perceive, I am deviHsh blown ! War. Leave us, corporal. [Exit Foss, r.] At your lei- sure sir, I shall be glad to knovv whom I have the honour of addressing. Fre. I am Frederick Bramble, sir ; my uncle. Sir Ro- bert Bramble, lives at the foot of this infernal hill. He fixed his house there, I fancy, for the sake of argument ; because mosL men maintain it is bad to build in a bottom. He is as charitable as a Christian, sir, and as rich as a Jew. Wo?'. 1 give you joy of a relation, sir, who has so much virtue, with so much wealth. When fortune enriches the benevolent, the goddess removes the bandage from her brow, that she may bestow a gift with her eyes open.-— But as I am a stranger here, and a recluse, I have no right to enter further into your uncle's character. Frc. Yet he has just now, sir, taken a right to enter into yours. JVor. May he not rather have taken a liberty, sir ? Fre. 'Tis his duty to be the most inquisitive fellow in the neighborhood. IVor. 'Tis a strange duty for a gentleman. Fre. I hope not, in this country, sir. If a gentleman be in the commission of the peace, and living on his own es- tate, he should be anxious, I think, to inquire into the con- duct of those around him, that he may distribute justice as a magistrate, and kindness as a man. War. But hovv can your uncle's principle apply to me, sir — a secluded sojourner, with a quiet family, lodging with one of his tenants ? Fre. Why, he has heard of the — hem ! — that is, I mean — the — peculiarity of your situation. Wor. [Haughtily.] Sir! Fre. [Aside.] I shall make a bungling business of- this, after all ! [Aloud.] I say, sii-, that my uncle, as 1 told you, is a warm old heart, v/ho busies himself in learning the circumstances of everybody about him, and — Wor. The circumstances I Fre. Yes ; — and so Humphrey Dobbins, a stupid old ser- vant, among other intelligence this morning, happened to — to mention you, and Damn it, sir ! the truth's the truth ! 1 ran here to prevent my uncle ofi'ering his as- 42 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act III sistaiice too bluntly, and I fear 1 have done it too bluntly myself. War. It would be absurd, sir, to affect blindness to the motives of your visit ; I see them clearly, and thank you cordially. You have touched the heart of a veteran sol- dier, but g-o no further : if you proceed, you will wound the dignity of a gentleman. Frc. I came here to heal wounds — by my soul, I did ! 'Tis not in my nature to inflict them, I am new in Eng- land, ignorant in the manners of the country ; for I arrived here last night from Russia, where I was born ; — but, sure- ly, surely it cannot be offensive, in any part of the globe, to tell the afflicted we feel for them. Pray give me your hand ! War. Take it, sir — take it ! Receive the grasp of gra- titude, and be gone ! F/e. Not till you first permit me to — TVo?\ I can accept no favours of the nature you offer, where I have no claim ; and what claim, young man, can I have upon your attentions ? Frc. The claim each man has in common upon his fel- low. We are all passengers on life's highway ; and when a traveller sticks in the mire on the road, the next that comes by is a brute, who doesn't stretch out a hand to ex- tricate him, JVor. That may hold in the courtesies of life ; but I do not admit it as an argument in essentials. Fre. Then I wish my uncle were here, with all my heart, sir ; he'd argue this point with you, or any other, to all eternity. JVor. I v/ant no arguments upon points of honour; ho- nour, the offspring of honesty, dictates for itself. Frc. Sir, 1 respect it, for its parent's sake, though the child is a little maddish : for honour is sometimes cutting throats, where honesty would be shaking hands. But let let me entreat you to relax — to be persuaded. Come, my dear sir ; true honour, I trust, can never have reason to blush, because honesty is assisted. JVor. [After a j^ause.] You have burst upon me at a cri- tical, a trying moment. I have a family — a beloved child, from whom I may be shortly torn, without the means of-— No matter 1 Even the griefs that inwardly wring me. Scene III.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 43 would not force me to unbend, were tljere not a native in- gHnuousTiciss in your manner which wins me. To you, in en — to a youthful stranger, whose sympathy comes o'er a rugged sohlier's nature, as pictured Love bestrides the lion, — to you I will owe a temporary obligation. Fre. Will you 1 Then you have made me the happiest dog that — \Searc7iing his pockcU^ Eh ! — No ! zounds ! I mean, sir, you have made me look the silliest dog in the World ! War. What do you mean 1 Fre, In my haste to do service, I never once recollected I wanted the means : my heart was so full, that I quite forgot my pockets were empty. Wor. I cannot think, young man, you came here to in- sult me. Fre. Insult ! — Oh, my dear sir ! you do not know me — - you may soon. I have !eft a father in embarrassments in Russia ; — I have landed here, dependent on an uncle's bounty ; and paid my last shilling to the coachman, who set me down at his gate ; — but my relation is as generous as a prince ; he will, I am sure, give me a supply, and then — Wor. And then 1 would not, for worlds, draw upon your little store. You have a superior call, it seems, upon you — a parent in distress. Fre. My father's involvements, no doubt, will be his brother's care : and if — Wor. No more — no more ! I see the workings of your heart. Farewell ! [Cros.vng, u.] Re23ine not that your will to do good actions outruns your power. Had the widow been without her mite, and simply dropped a tear for po- verty on the moist shrine f)f compassion, it would have se- cui-ed to her a page in Heaven's register ! \^Exit, r. Fre. Now this is all very pretty rhodomontade ; and I'll go directly and argue that it is so, with my uncle, for the good of the bluff veteran. A wido\y's weeping for distress may water the road pleasantly enou'T^h for herself to para- dise, but if she could shed peck loaves instead of tears, it would be twenty times better for the poor's-box. [ Exit, L. END OF ACT III. 44 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act IV. ACT IV. Scene 1. — A Wood skirting a Village. 'Enter Sm Charles Cropland ani^ Ollapod, r. Sir C. I'm as chilly as a bottle of port in a hard frost. This is your English spring, that our shivering poets cele- brate by a fireside, if they can g^t one, and sing of basking shepherds making love in the sun ! I'm as amorous as an Arcadian, but it's cursed cold in Kent, for all that ! Are you sure these women will come, Ollapod ] Olla. Sure as death ! as I tell my patients. Sir C. They find that, sure enough. Olla. He ! he ! Yes, Sir Charles ; I never deceive them. Called in last week to Captain Custard, of our corps, who was shovelled off by a surfeit. " Dearest friend," says I, looking in his fat face, *' be firm. Candour compels me to say. Now I'm come, you can't live." He didn't. " You shall be buried with military honours." He was ! Attended him from beginning to end^doctor and mourner — bed and grave ; — physicked him first, shot over him afterwards. Poor fellow ! a good officer, an ex- cellent pastry-cook, a prodigious eater, and a profitable pa- tient ! Sir C. Confound Captain Custard ! 1 am thinking of a fine girl, and you are panegyrising a dead pastry-cook ! These women will disappoint us at last. Olla. Then there's no honour in the Honourable Miss Mac Tab. Sir C. You didn't see Emily? Olla. No. Sir C. Psha ! all is uncertainty — I shall lose the golden fruit at last. Olla. D — d hard, aftfjr I've given the dragon a dose !— Do you take, good sir ] do you take 1 *S//' G. t wish the dragon had wings, then, to move a lit- tle faster. This sharp north-easterly wind will prevent their walking. Olla. 1 hope not, Sir Charles ; [Aside,] for they'll get a cursed cold, and want an apothecary ! Scene I.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 45 Si?' C. Stay ! I think I see a petticoat. Olla. Mark ! 'tis an old bird — the Honou: able Miss Mac Tab, in a jog-trot. Sir O. And Emily with her, by all that's beautiful ! Olla. Yes, that's she — as fine a woman as ever srneltsal volatile ! There's the game, Sir Charles: j^ou've nothing to do but to kill. Sir C. Step aside, or our meeting will be too abrupt. — We must kill by rule here, Oil apod. Olla. Kill by rule ! — With all my heart : 'tis a method I've long been used to. ^They retire, r. Enter Miss Lucretia Mac Tab and Emily, l. Luc. Cold ! — Ridiculous ! Females of fashion. Miss Emily, never complain of the cold now. Emily. I didn't know it was the fashion to be insensi- ble, great aunt. Luc. To the seasons it is. An English gentlewoman of the year eighteen hundred, emulates an English oak, which is hardy as well as elegant and beautiful, but bare, in the month of December. Emily. Dear ! that's a charming park yonder. Whom can it belong to ? Luc. Sir Charles Cropland. Emily. Sir Charles Cropland ! Pray, let us get home again. Luc. Does a fine country frighten you. Miss Emily 1 Emily. It used, in Canada. Luc. For what reason, pray 1 Etyiily. Because a brute sometimes inhabits it. Luc. Ridiculous ! Should we happen to meet Sir Charles, I beg that — Emily. What, is he here, then ? Luc. So Mr. Ollapod informs me. Emily. And who is he 1 Luc. The apothe — Hem ! — the officer who visited the family this morning. Emily. We will have no more walks without my father, madam. Luc. Oh! as you please; but — Eh! \ declare, here they both come! "Tis impossible to avoid them now. 46 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act IV Re-enter Sir Charles Cropland and Ollafod, r u. e. Emily. Bless me, this is very strange ! G. Unkind to set so little store by my present, Miss Worthington ! And when did you observe the puppy was gone 1 Emily. The very moment you left the room, sir. Olla. [Aside.] Humph ! that's another dowse for the ba- ronet ! I must get the old woman away. [Pulling Lucretia hy the sleeve.] Ma'am ! Luc. [Fruminshly.] Lord, sir! Olla. Condescend to cast your eye over that hillock — ■ the little lump to the left there — round and black, like a bolus. From that point, you see three capital counties at once. Luc. I can't say that I perceive — Olla. Stay — here's Kent, fertile in pheasants, cherries, hops, yeomen, codlings and cricketers. On one side, Sus- sex — L^ic. Li what beauties does that abound, sir 1 Olla. Mutton and dumplings. And there's Surrey—- sweet Surrey ! Luc. For what may that be famous ? Olla. Nothing that I know of, except my countryman, Crushjav/s, of Carshalton, who tugs out a stump with per- fect pleasure to the patient. [Lucretia is continually endeavoring to turn towards Sir Charles and Emily, and Ollapod constantly -prevents her. Luc. 1 protest I see nothing before me but a barn. Olla. That's reckoned the only eye-sore in the view, for it totally blocks out the prospect. Fifty yards further, we may see all. A little swampy here, to be sure — better for snipe-shooting. Permit me to touch the tip of your ho- nourable little finger, and pass you over the puddles. Luc. Bless me ! I can never get over that stile ! Olla. [Aside.] A little gummy in the leg, I suppose.—* 48 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act IV [Aloud.] It's the easiest in England, upon the honour of a cornet. If an ankle's exposed, I'll forfeit all the physic m my shop. This way ! [TaJdng her hand \ Step out there, ma'anri. Curse 'em ! the cows have been liere ! This way ! [Exit, hurr/jhig off Lucrctia, u. Emily. Gone ! Permit me to follow my relation, sir. Sir C. Stay, my dear Miss Worthington ; I have some- thing of the utmost consequence to say to you. Emily. Speak it quickly, then, sij-. Sir C. Your father does not abound in liches, I take it. Emily. That is of no consequetice to me, sir, if he can be happy. Sir C. Now, I am very rich, as men of fashion go ; for my estate is not yet dipped above three parts of its value. Emily. That can be of no consequence to me at all, sir. Sir C. Pardon me — for I have to propose to you — Emily. What, sir 1 Sir C. Your own house in town, the run of my estate in the countiy, your own chariot, two footmen, and six hun- dred a-year. But you must allow me a little time to my- self — a little play at Miles's, a little sport at Newmarket — a little hunting in Leicestershire ; and, this apart, you'll find me the most domestic man in the world. Emily. I fancy I comprehend the nature of your jargon, sir. Sir C. Jargon ! It is a language perfectly understood by all us young fellows, in the circle of St. James's. 'Tis the way of the world, my dear little Simplicity ! Emily. Oh ! how base must be the world, then, when it makes simplicity its victim ! I have been bred in wilds ; but the sweet breath of Nature has inspired my soul with reason. What does that reason tell me, sir 1 That vice is vice, however society may polish it ; that seduction is still seduction, however fashion may sanction it ; that intellect, speaking through simplicity like mine, has the force of vir- tue to strengthen it ; while worldly sophistry must shrink from native truth, when it proclaims, that he who could break a father's heart by heaping splendid infamy upon his child, is a villain ! Let me pass you, sir ! Enter Frederick, l. u. e. Fre. 1 nave lost my way, and my uncle, and — Eh ! who bave we here 1 Scene I.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 49 Si?' C. [lyctaining Emilij.\ Upon my soul, you must not go ! Emihj. How, sir ] Sir C. Look ye, my dear Emily — I am advanced too far in the game to recede. If you are not mine by entreaty, there are four spanking grays, ready harnessed in Cropland Park here, that shall whisk us to town in a minute. Emi/f/. You dare not, sure — Sir C. Nay, faith, I dare anything now ; for the prize is in my reach, and I will clasp it, though your heart were colder to me than the snows of Russia. \^He runs ton'ards her — she scrca7ns — Frederick advances. Fre. [Standing hctwetn them.] I bring news from that country, sir ; I arrived last night. Sir C. Then, sir, you arrived d — (\. mal a propos. What aie you ] Fre. A man ; so I am bound to protect females from brutality. You, it seems, assault them. Pray, sir, what are yo . 1 Sir C. A person of some figure here, sir. You may not know, perhaps, the consequence of insulting one of that description in this country. Fre. Faith, not I ; but I know the consequence of his persisting to persecute a woman in my presence. Sir C. What may that be 1 Fre. I knock him down. *S//- C. You will please to recollect, sir, I am a gentle- m an . Fre. I can't, for the soul of me — I can never recollect that any man's a gentleman, when I find him forgetting it iiimself. *S/> C. Can you fight, sir ] Fre. Like a game cock, sir — try me. Sir C. What is your weapon, sirl Fre. The knout. Sir C. What the devil's that 1 Fre. A Russian cat-o'-nine-tails, to chastise a criminal; and I know no criminal who more richly deserves it than he who degrades manhood by offering violence to the ami- able sex, which nature formed him to defend. Fear no« thing, madam. Sir 0. We must meet again, my hot spark. 50 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act IV Fre. I'm uappy to hear it — it implies you are going now. Sir C. liark ye, sir: I am called Sir Charles Cropland; yonder is my park. Frc. \Vith four spanking grays in it. I heard you say 80. Sir C. There is very retired shooting in some parts of it, sir. Your name ? Fre. Frederick Bramble, nephew to your neig^hbor, ^^ir Robert. You'll find me ready to take a morning's sport with you. Sir C. You shaH hear from me. \ Aside.] This is a curs- ed business ! but it will keep up the noise of my name at the clubs ; and the duel of a dashing baronet furnishes food for the newspapers. [Exit, r. Frc. Victory, madam ! The enemy is fled, and virtue triumphs in the field. Ha ! you look pale ! Emily, \jiluch agitated.] I have been sadly flurried. Frc. 'Sdeath! she is near fainting! Let me support you, madam. \S/ie appears fainting — lie catches /ter.] — Zounds ! how beautiful she is ! Tears ! Now would I give the world to kiss them off, and then kick the scoundrel that caused them ! Emily. [Rccorering.] I know not how to thank you, sir. Fre. I'm glad of it, ma'am ; I never like to be thanked for merely doing my duty. Emily. I fear, sir, that — I mean, I hope that — I — I hope. sir, you will not be exposed to further danger on my ac- count. F:€. I am not used to think of danger, madam, on any account ; but something tells me, I should glory in any thai I risked for you. Whither shall I have the honour of at- tend inor you safe home, madam ? Emihj. I have a relation, sir — a female relation, who has been walking with me ; she is now, I fancy, in the next field, and she will — Fre. What, an elderly lady, that I observed just now, as I passed, with an officer ? Emily. Ah ! that r)fficer — Fre. Who is he, pray ] Em 1/7/, A wicked accessary, I am convinced, of Sii Charles Cropland's. ScEJrel.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 51 F^re. Is he 1 I see him coming — huzza ! I'll blow him to l»he devil, if he were generalissimo ! Emihj. For Heaven's sake ! you make me tremble. Frc. Tremble! I wouldn't give you pain for w' orlds ! I'll be calm with him — on your account I will. I'll affront him with all the civility imaginable. Enter Ollapod hastily, r. OJla. The Hcmourable Miss Mac Tab has tumbled up to her middle in the mud. Bless me, is Sir Charles gone % Frc. You are Sir Charles's friend, it seems, sir ? OUa. I have the honour to be close in his confidence. Fre. And assist him upon honourable occasions. You are an officer, I perceive. OUa. He ! he ! Yes, sir ; cornet in our volunteer corps of cavalry ; as respectable a body as any regulars in Christendom. Frc. I don't doubt it at all. To stand forward at home, and keep off invaders from the shores of our country, is as honourable and praiseworthy, as marching to attack its enemies abroad. [Aside to Emihj.\ Pray, don't be alarmed; you see I am civil. OUa. [Aside.] A pretty spoken young man. I'll encou- rage him. [Aloud.] Come, that's very well — very well, in- deed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you one ! Fre. But some morbid parts may be found, I fancy, in the wholesomest bodies. OUa. Decidedly ; like a chubby child, in high health, with a whitlow. Frc. Just such a whitlow I take vou to be. OUa. Me ! Frc. Exactly; and 'tis that uniform alone — as I respect every symbol of loyalty and patriotism — that prevents my cropping your ears as close as your jacket. [Aside to Emi- ///.] Don't be uneasy ; you see I'm civil. OUa. Crop ! Zounds I what do you mean 1 Frc. Can't you take my meaning in your own way 1 OUa. Way ! Sir, I engage to kill the enemies of my country, in the way of wai ; I never draw blood fiom the natives, but in the way of business. Fre. Bu sines'^ ! Ollu. Yes ; I'm a,a apothecary. Take care how yxju 52 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. PAcT If meddle wiih a man of my repute ! Served my lime, se* ven years, under old Cataplasm, of Canteibury ; took out my freedom in that ancient city ; thumped the mortar six months at Maidstone ; now on my own bottom, in trade, at Tunbridge. Cornet Ollapod, at the gilt Galen's Head; known to all the nobility round ; sharp shot in a copse ; deep dab at the broad-sword exercise; charge a furze- bush, wing a woodcock, or blister a lord, with any chap in the country. Insult me as an officer, and I'll p/osecute you. Touch my ears, you touch my honour ; and, d — n me, I'll clap you in the county jail, for assaulting a free- man ! [Exit, R. Fre. The scarlet apothecary is beneath my notice ; but if the fellow has flurried your nerves, madam, which it is his trade to tranquillise, I'll 23ound him to death in his own mortar ! Emilij. Pray, do not be so violent ; it terrifies me. On your own account, sir, it terrifies me. Fro. On iny account 1 Emily. Yes. It would grieve me to see one, who is ca- pable of such kind actions towards me, hurried into peril by the warmth of his temper. Fre. I will be what you please. Tell me only whither I shall lead you. You are of the neighborhood, I conjec- ture. May I ask your name ? Emily. Emily Worthington, sir. Fre. Worthington ! Tlien you are daughter to the fin- est spirited man I ever met in my life. Emily. Do you think so % Do you, indeed ] I am very glad that you think so. But how came you acquainted ! Fre. Why, I — I had a little business with him ; but somehow or other, I — I went without my credentials. Shall I take you to him 1 Will you trust yourself with me '? Emily. Trust myself! — Oh, yes ! — My dear father shall tlionk you ; I will thank you; andour poor old corporal, who has served in the wars, and followed us through Ame- rica, he will thank you, in tears of joy, when he heai's of this rescue. Fre. The old corporal loves you, then 1 Emily. Certainly he does. He nursed me when my poor mother died, and left me an infant in Gibraltar ; and dearly I love him, too ! SCBBE II.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 53 Fre [Aside] Now, what would T give to be an old cor- poral ! [Aloud.] I attend you— let me see you home. Oh » how would n diminish the number of scoundrels in the w<..rld, if they could but once taste the joy of rescuin^r a lovely female from perdition, and restoring her to her fa- ^^'^'' [Exeunt,!.. Scene II.— Exterior of Farmer HarrowUJs House. Enter Lieutenant Worthington. Wor. Emily not yet returned ! I cannot rest in this suspense ! Every instant I dread the arrival of these offi- cers, to drag me from my family— from my child ! [Look^ '^^S ^Jy ^'■] Ha ! two strangers lurking yonder ! Nay then, I know their errand. Where is my Emily ? Well well; 'tis better, in such a struggle, if the child witness not the anguish of the parent. [Retires up, r. Enter Sir Robert Bramble and Humphrey Dobbins, l. Sir R. So, here we are at last. That hill's a breather ! 1 am sure that was my nephew I saw, hopping over the ploughed land yonder. Dob. Not a morsel like him. Sir R. I wonder if the rogue has found his way here yet. [Seeing Worthington.] Ha ! there's our man, leanino- agamst the stump of the tree there. He seems lost in thought. Go and tap him on the shoulder, Humphrey. Doh. [Advancing to Worthington, and putting his ?iand on his shoulder.] You are wanted. Wor. [Coming forward.] I understand you. Sir R. Your servant, sir. Your name is Worthington they tell ma. ° Wor. It is, friend. Sir R. I have a litt] j business with you ; and it isn't my way to use ceremony. Wor. I expect none from a person of your stamp. Sir R Stamp ! Humphrey, isn't tUt odd ? Dob. Not a bit; the neighbors tell everybody what a rum jockey you are. Sir R. Umph! [To Worthington.] You'll excuse me for talking before old Crabbed here ; he' -n all my affairs; 54 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act IV. the ]5uppy has grown gray with me, and I can't well dc witliout him. Wor. Your follower, I suppose] Sir R. Yes, he's always at my heels. You have served his majesty, I hear, and done your duty nobly. IVor. No matter ; do 7/our duty, and 'tis enough. Sir R. [Aside.] Yes, he's as proud as Lucifer, I see ; hut there's no flattery in that. [Aloud.] The motives that brought me here will prove, I trust, that I don't always neglect my duty. Wor. You may perform it now, then. If my life dc- Dended on it, friend, I could not give you five pounds this moment. Sir R. Give me five pounds ! Who the devil wishes you ] I want to know how I can do you a kindness. Wor. I thank you. In consideration, then, for a gentle- man, and reliance on his honour to acknowledge the obli- gation when in his power, I trust you will place me in an apartment in your own house. Sir R. An apartment in my own house ! Wor. Yes ; where I may have the comft)i t of privacy, and my family about me. Sir R. [Aside.] D — n me, but this is pretty plump for a man, who would sooner see me hanged than ask me a fa- vour ! Wor. You will not, I think, be harsh enough to lodge me among the wretched rabble who are the common in- mates of your gloomy walls. Sir R. My gloomy walls! [Aside.] An infernal, impu- dent old scoundrel ! Squeezes himself and ail his relations into my house, and calls my family a wretched rabble ! Humphrey, did you ever see such brass ! Dob. I always told you, excejit myself, you kept a cjueer set. Sir R. Zounds! I'll— No, I'll keep my temper ! [To Wort/iington.] Pray, sir, what can yoii suppose I am to make of you ] Wor. Make of me ! [Jlside.] These mercenary harpies ! [Ahiid.] I have already told you, friend, ysou can make no- thing of me in my present situation. What you think you may make of me in future, as a man of honour, I leave to your own feolings. ScEWElI.] THE POOR GENTI^EMAN. 55 Sir R. I won't consult my own feelings now, sir ] 1 must proceed upon my judgment. Wor. I know you are proceeding upon a judgment. Sir R. And that judgment is cursedly against you a< this moment, let me tell you. Wor. 'Tis my misfortune. Sir R. If you think that a misfv^tune, you might aft well alter your conduct with me a little ; — I don't see th& drift on't. Wor. Drift! Sir R. Ay ; where's the policy 1 Wor. That expired but a few hours too soon. Sir R. \ Aside] His policy expired but a few ho\s.rrf to< soon ! Why, the man's a maniac ! His distresses have deranged him. [Aloud.] Were you — ahem ! — were you ever wounded in the head ] Wor. Wounded in the head ! Sir R. Yes, in any of the actions you have had ? Wor. Truce with inten'ogations, friend ! I am ready to accompany you. Sir R. You are ; — And, pray where are we to go ? Wor. I told you 1 should give your own house the pre- ference. *S?> R. Curse me, if ever you set your foot over my threshold ! Wor. Lead me where you please, then. You proffered kindness, and I was weak enough to expect it ; but I might have known, that one of your cast is deaf to the petition o( distress. Sir R. The devil I am ! Wor. Familiar with scenes of want, habit hardens your heart, till the very face becomes an index of the mind, and callous inhumanity scowls in every lineament of the hard- featured bailiff. Sir R. Blood and thunder! — IBailil!'! — Humphrey, do I look a bit like a bailiff '? Dob. I don't know but you do. Sir R. Sir — 1 — pardon your mistake, and I like youi spirit ; there's no flattery in it ; — but I'm in a passion for all that. Many a modern Sir .Tacky looks like a prize- fighter; but it's rather hard to take a baronet of the old school for a biim-bailifl' ! 56 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. f Act IV Wor. [Loo/cing of, r.] My daughter ] Sir R. And my sky-rocket of a nephew ! Enter Frederick and Emily, r. — Etnilyruns tohrr father, Fre. Ha ! you are here at last, I perceive, uncle. Wor. (r.) Uncle ! [To Frederick.] Is this Sir Robert Bramble, then — the generous relation of whom you told me 1 Sir R. (c.) Generous ! psha ! — But I am his uncle : though the puppy's smart enough, he's nephew to the hard- featured fellow, whose face is an index of his mind. Emily, (r. c.) Oh, sir, if you are his relation, talk to him, I entreat you — aigue with him — Sir R. Argue with him ! — That I will, with all my heart and soul ! On what subject 1 Emily. On his rash intention, sir, to meet the ruffij^n from whom he has just rescued me. Wor. Rescued you, Emily ! What does this mean 1 Fre. Oh ! a mere trifle — nothing. A gentleman in the fields here, happened to be so very civil to Miss VVorthing- ton, that I took it for rudeness ; so I happened to be so rude to him, that he couldn't take it for civility — that's all. Wor. Rudeness to my child ! Who has dared to — But come in, Emily. [To Sir Robert.] Your pardon, sir; you have found nothing but cojifusion here, and I must retire with my daughter for an explanation. Come, Emily ! Emily. Let us thank this gentleman before we go, sir. Ere. Upon my soul, 1 deserve no thanks, sir. If I dp serve opinion more — Emily. Farewell, sir ; and pray — pray, be cautious ! [Exeunt Worrhington and, Emily into the house, r. Sir R. Frederick, who is the fellow you have been quar relling with ] Fre. (r.) He calls himself Sir Charles Cropland. Sir R. (c.) 1 know him — he's a puppy ! Must you fight him 1 Fre. So he tells me. *S/> R. I'll be your sect^nd. Fre. You ! Sir R. Yes ; fighting's a sort of sharp argument : and, as we defend the cause of insulted innocence, it's cursed ScEin: I.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 5/ hard if we haven't the best on't. But, haikye you doffi don't fall in love with the girl Fre. I have. &ir R, Yoxi haven't ! jFre. Over head and ears. Sir R. Why, you blockhead ! she's a beggar! Fre. So am I : we shall make a very pretty couple. Sir R. And, if you married, how would you support Fre. Perhaps you would support us. Sir R. You sha'n't have a shilling till my death ! Fre. Then I hope we shall have the pleasure of starving together a great while, sir. Sir R. Run back, and order a dinner for a party ; tell old Buncles, the butler, to lug out some claret. Fre.^ Then, after dinner, I'll drink Emily Worthington in a pmt bumper. \ExitL. Sir R. Humphrey, you haven't attended, now, to a word of what was passing. Dod. Every syllable on't. ^zV i2. You'll laugh to see me out in a duel, I suppose 1 Dob. No, I sha'n't ; I'd sooner be shot at myself. Sir R. Umph ! — If my nephew marries this girl, I've a great mind to cut him oft' with a shilling. Dob. No, you won't. Sir R. Why, you know, he's as poor as a rat. Dob. The rat's your relation : it would be plaguy hard to starve him, when you feed all the rest of the rats in :he parish. ^/r ii. Come along, Humphrey : and if ever you star\'e, rank bacon and mouldy pie-crust be my portion ! [Exeunt^ l. END OF ACT IV. AC T V. Scene I. — A Wood and a Fathway. Enter Ollapod, l. Olla. An awkward errand I'm on to Sir Robert Bram* 58 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [AcT ▼ ble*s ; — not quite correct to carry a challenge into x family I've physicked ; but honour, in this case, before medicine ! A leaf of laurel is worth twenty drops of laudanum. Mara is first customer, and d — n yEsculapius ! [Looking off, l.] Ha ! here comes the enemy up the hill from the house.^ — The game meets me half way, as death does the doctor ! \ Retires vp, l Enter Fuederick, musing, r., not seeing Ollapod. Frc. " A pointed pain pierced deep my heart — A swift cold trembling seized on every part.** Olla. \Asidc\ That's an ague ! Fre. " But quickly to my cost I found, 'Twas Love, not Death, had made the wound !" Olla. \Aside?^ Oh, confound that disease ! it's cured with- out an apothecary ! Fre. I've ordered dinner for my old uncle, and now I can't for my life, help loitering about the farm-house. What mind she has in every look ! I would rather be a whale, and flounce about the Baltic, than fall in love with a fine proportioned face of beautiful insipidity. 'Tis a lamp without oil — Heaven in a fog ! Give me those dear, be- witching features, wliere sweet expression always speaks, and sometimes sparkles. Give me a dimpled beauty that — \Seeing Ollapod.] Zounds ! here's that cursed ugly apo- thecary ! Pray, sir, do you know what are some men's antipathies 1 Olla. Yes — cats, rats, old maids, double-tripe, spiders, Cheshire cheese, and cork-cutters. Fre. Now my antipathy, sir, is a pert apothecary. How dare you look me again in the face without trembling? Olla. Trembling ! At what \ Fre. Death. Olla, Pooh ! I've made it my business to look death in the face for fifteen years, and don't tremble at it at all. Fre. Why do you presume, sir, to come across me here ] Olla. Here ! — This is the king's highway, trod on as common as camomile — crowded with all comers, like the Red Cow on a field-day. Besides, I've business at ^lack berry Hall. *Ve. At my uncle's 1 SCEWE I.l THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 59 Olid. Yes ; I've sometliing in my pocket to deli\ or there ; you may guess what it is. Frc. Li{)-salve f(u- tlie maid, perhaps; or rose-water to put into puddings. OJla. D — n Hps and puddings ! I've a letter for you. Fre. You have ? Olla. Yes — to be taken directly. [Giving it.'\ Eh ! isn* that Sir Robert Bramble 1 Enter Sir Robert Bra<^ible, l. *S/V R. I've sprained my bacdc. trying to tVisk over that infernal farmer's hog-trough ! If Humphrey hadn't ar- gued I was too stiff" in the joints to jump, I'd have seen the dog at the devil before I attempted it ! Ha ! Mr. 011a- pod ! Your servant — your servant ! Tell me what brings you this way. Olla. \Aside.] I'll see you in a fever first ! [Aloud.] Dry weather for walking, Sir Robert ; but no news — young partiidges looked for every day — so are six Hamburgh mails. Glad to find our gout is gone, Sir Robert — happy to meet you again on a good footing. Do you take, good sir 1 do you take ? Sir R. I take your jokes as I do your bottles of physic, Master Ollapod. Olla. How is that. Sir Robert 1 Sir R. 1 never take them at all. Olla. Come, that's very well, very well, indeed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you one ! Sir R. Frederick, what are you doing here 1 Fre. Reading a challenge, uncle. Sir R. So, 'tis come, then ! Who brought it 1 Fre. [Pointing to Ollapod.] Pestle and mortar there. [Handing the letter,] Read, uncle, read ! Sir R. [Reading.] " Sir — Mr. Ollapod, of the volunteer corps., will deliver this to you. You will find me, half an hour hence, at the plantation on the heath, tvaiting to receive the satisfaction due to j;ovr humhle servant, Charles Crop- land." Plain aF a demonstration in Euclid! \To Olla- pod.] But how dare you, who have bled my coachman till he can't drive, and juleped my cook till she faints at a fire, administer a challenge to my nephew 1 Olla. Honour is rigid, Sir Robert, and must be minded as strictly as a milk diet. 60 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act T Sir R. You come here, in short as Sir Charles Crop land's friend ] Olla, I do. Gallipots must give way to gallant feelings, and Galen is gagged by Bellona. Sorry to offend the Bramble family ! Shall bring lint, probe, and styptic, along with the pistols. Though sei-ving as second on one side, shall be proud to extract a ball for either party, on as reasonable terms as any in the profession. [Exif, l. Fre. I have been thinking, uncle, and — You sha'n't ac- company me in this Jpusiness. Sir R. I sha'n't ! You puppy ! haven't I a right to smell powder if I please ] Fre. 'Tis an awkward business altogether — perhaps a foolish one. I am a useless fellow, floating through the world like a mere feather : if I am blown out of sight, 'tis no matter. You are of too much value, uncle, to be made the sport of every idle gale. Sir R. Now what, in the devil's name, is the value of a man, if he don't stand by his friend when he wants him 1 Fre. And what, in the devil's name, uncle, is the value of his friend, if he only drags him into a scrape ] Sir R. A scrape ! Fre. Yes. They tell me the law of this country is apt to call killing a man in a duel, murder, and to look on all accessaries as principals. Now, uncle, as 1 am going on an expedition which may end in hanging, I don't think it quite considerate to inveigle an honest friend to be of the party. Sir R. I never heard the argument put in that way be- fore ; — there are few, I fancy, of your opinion. Fre. Oh, a great many ! There are men enough to be found, who would give in the same opinion by twelve at a time. But should I fall in my encounter with this booby of a baronet — Sir R. Fall ! Fre. Why, 'twould be bold to argue, uncle, if a bullet hits in a mortal place, that it won't kill ; and, in case oi Jhe worst, I have a request to make. Sir R. \ Uneasy.] Well. Fre. If I fall, then, uncle, you — you know I have a la- ther. SirR. I Agitated,] Well! fiCKWElI.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN 61 Fre. He is your brother, my dear uncle—an affectionate brother \our tempers may not assimilate, but he loves liml '' ^'''''^' f ^''^""''^ ''"'" ^'''''^'^ ^^ ^ ^^"' remember Sir R {Throwing himself on his nec/c] My dear, dear 1^ rederick ! your death would break my heart ' I have been reasoning all my life, and find that all argument will vanish before one touch of nature. Frc.I fancy you will often find it so, my dear uncle. iiir R. And nature tells me, if you argue for ages, you sha n t prevent the old man's going with you. Come ; we must go home to prepare. You must have my pistols,' and —-Upon ray soul, Frederick, 1 love my brother Job ! Well have him over, and— Zounds ! this will all end in smoke ! And then I'll write to Russia— we'll have a fa- mily party, and be jolly, and— Come, my dear lad! come! [Exeunt, r. Scene U.—The Parlour in Fanner Harrowlijs House, Enter Lieutenant Worthington, l. Wor. This young man may rashly plunge into a quarrel on il^mily's account; 'tis my duty to chastise the insulter of my child. At Sir Robert Bramble's I might learn more and— But in what state of mind should I attend him ! Enter Corporal Foss, r. So, corporal ; have you observed any people about the house ? Foss. No enemies, your honour, unless they are in am- Duscade. Wor. I am strongly inclined to go to Sir Robert's to- day. Foss. I hope your honour will ; they say he is such a good-hearted old gentleman : ten to one but he chives your hoijour a helping hand. ^ Wor. [HaJf-asidc] Then he'll think I come to solicit assistance. 1 will not go ! Foss.. Won't you, your honour ? Wor, I wish to see my daughter again, corporal. Foss I had almost made sure of your honour's goine. 1 have laid opt the red rpquelaire ; and, in case of a dafk 62 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act Y night, Stephen's now in the stable, dusting out the lantern, for me to march home before your honour. Wor. Well, well; send Emily to me. Foss. [Sighing.] Heigho ! [Going.] Oh, here comes my young lady. Enter Emily, r. [Aside to lier.] Make him go to Sir Robert's, Miss Emily bless you, do ! Mollify his honour a bit ; — you don't know half the good may come on't. Do, now ! [Exit, r. Wor. What said the corporal, Emily ] Emily. He bid me press our going to Sir Robert Bram- ble's to-day. Wor. Should you wish me, Emily, to place myself in a situation, where I might be suspected of imploring sup- port 1 E?mli/. Heaven forbid ! But the gentleman who pro- tected me has been so good, so very good, that — Wor. That what, Emily 1 Emily. I should like — to thank him — that's all. Wor, Have we not both thanked him already 1 Emily. Yes, but — not enough, perhaps. Wor. If more be necessary, I may express our further sense of his goodness by letter. Emily. The service he did me, was not by letter, you know, my dear father. Wor. You seem strangely interested here, Emily. Emily. Shouldn't I be so ] I hope I ought ; for indeed, indeed — [ Unable to suppress her tears.] — I — I am very un- easy 1 Wor. My child ! uneasy ! — Compose yourself, Emily ! Open your heart to me — to your father — your friend, Emily ! Emily. Indeed, I never wish to hide my thoughts from you : they often meet your ear, so wild and so unformed, that they resemble dreams. Wor. Alas ! my child, the thoughts of young minds too frequently resemble dreams. Should you love this young man, Emily, it is a dream, from which no reproof of mine shall startle you, but the gentleness of a father shall awak- en you. Emily. Lovr him ! — Oh, no — But he preserved me frore ScEHiII.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 63b danger, and, en that accoun!, I dread he may incur it him- self. IVor. You know not yet what your heart is, Emily. Emily. Yes, indeed I do. I should be grieved if I did not know it dearly loved you. Wor. And you have no such sentiments towards this young man, Emily ] Emily. No, upon my word : the sentiments I feel for him are as different as light and darkness. Wor. My dearest Emily, till you know the world's path bettei, be cautious how you tread. I may soon be snatch- ed from you, Emily — Emily. My father ! Wor. Take, then, my fondest counsel while I live — my best legacy, alas ! should I be hurried from you. Act not too suddenly on ideas. Doubt that passion may mislead you, till reflection justifies your impulse. Wed not for wealth, Emily, without love — 'tis gaudy slavery ; nor for love, without competence — 'tis twofold misery. Glide gently down the stream, with neither too full a sail, nor too slight a freightage ; and may your voyage, my child, be happier — much happier than your father's ! Re-enter Corporal Foss, r. Foss. Madam Mac Tab wants to know if you all dine at Sir Robert's, your honour. Wor. Why does she inquire, corporal ? Foss. It's about putting on some of her trinkums and furbelows, I fancy, your honour. She came in, awhile ago, as muddy as our little pigeon-toed drummer after a long march. War. I have thought on't. Tell her we shall go. Foss. No — will you ] Huzza ! I ha'n't been better pleased since they made me a corporal ! [Exit, r. Emily. You will go, then 1 Wor. Some explanation is necessary there, and I will make up my mind to bury other feelings. Lucretia will go with us ; we must afterwards take our leave of her en- tirely. Emily. Indeed ! Wor. Her conduct, of which you have informed me, wiUi Sir Charles Cropland, has decided me ; and sha will 64 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. j [Act 9 only quit a tottering asylum. I have to tell you, our friend Burtbrd is dead, Emily. Emili/. What ! the friend that — IVor. Yes, Emily ; a worthy — an honourable man ; — but, from the suddenness of his death — 'tis fit I prepare you for the shock — he has left me in involvements, which, in a few houis, may enclose me in a prison. Emilij. A prison ! — You ! — You will take me with you 1 Won't you take me with you 1 Wor. Like the eagle on the rock, Emily, I must shelter my nestling where Providence ordains. Emily. Well, then, do not make yourself unhappy, my dear father ! We shall not be very miserable if we are not asunder. 1 will sit by you — talk to you — listen to you ; and should a tear steal upon your cheek, I can kiss it off, and — [Sobbing involuntarily.] — I am not shocked for myself — pray forgive me ! Woj'. [Folding her in his ar?ns.\ My beloved — my ami- able child ! Enter Miss Lucretia Mac Tab, r. Luc. If we live here for a twelvemonth, I'll never speak to that beastly quack who left me in the ditch, again. Wor. We shall not live here for a twelvemonth, madam. Luc. I am glad of it, for this place is worse than a cow- house. One is up to one's ears in mud, and nothing but brutes are its constant inhabitants. JVor. And, after what has passed, you will feel as little surprise as I mean offence, when I propose to you to re- linquish the fortunes of a man, whose situation, in all places, must be so irksome to you. Lt/c. I — I understand. You are weak enough, then, Mr. Worthington, to wish me to withdraw my countenance from the family 1 Wor. Since the strength of your zeal for my family, ma- dam, has so far outrun my weak notions of its happiness, I confess I do wish you to withdraw it. Luc. 'Tis very well, sir ! Wor. When you are ready, madam, to go to Sir Robert Bramble's, you will find Emily and me in the garden, pre* pared to attend you. Cf>me, my love ! \ Exeunt XVorthington and Emily, L ScKirclI.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 65 Luc, Then the Honourable Miss Lucretia Mac Tab is cut, at last, by a half-pay lieutenant in a marching regi- ment ! Re-enter Corporal Foss, r. Foss. Is your ladyship's honour ready to go ? Luc. Go ! — Are you sent to drum me out, fellow, as you would a deserter ? Foss. I don't come to drum your ladysljip's honour : I want to know if you'll go to Sir Robert's. Luc. Go to-morrow, by break of day, to the post-house; ask if there's a return-chaise there for London. Foss. What am I to do then, an' it please you ] Luc, Secure a seat in it for the Honourable Miss Lucre- tia Mac Tab. Foss, Is your ladyship's honour bundling off, then 1 Luc. Bundling, you brute ! Obey my orders. Foss. That I will, with all my heart and soul, an' please your honour. Luc. I'll withdraw myself from this wretched family : I'll go down to Scotland, and patronize my sixteenth cou- sin, the tobacconist of Glasgow. [Exit, r. Enter Stephen Harrowby, l. Ste. Here be the lantern, Master Corporal ; I ha' made him shine like our barn-door. If you do like a duck, now, for your supper, I ha' shot one of ourn for you, wi' fey- ther's blunderbuss. Foss. How came you to do that, my honest lad 1 Ste. Why, she ware marching before a whole brood of young ones, and looked for all the world like a captain at the head of his attachment. We ha' no herbs to stuff her, for I ha' cut up all our kitchen-garden, to look like a mor- tification. Foss. Well, well, I must attend his honour; but keep a sharp look-out, my good lad ; you know what I told you. Ste. What, about the bum-baileys ? Rot 'um ! I'll blow 'em up wi' gunpowder ! Foss. Keep a good watch, tliat's all. Ste. Dang me, if a soldier's hurt on our premises ! — I've unmuzzled Towzer and Cabbage ; they'll bite all as come, good or bad. Come you along, Mr. Corporal — [Singing,] «* For a soldier — a soldier's the lad for me !*' [Excmit, \!. 66 THE POOR GE.NTLEMAN. [Act I Scene III. — Sir Charles Cropland's Park, Enter Sir Charles Cropland and Ollapod, l. Sir C. We are on tlie ground first. Olla. Perhaps the enemy's subject to a common com- plaint. Sir C. What's that 1 Olla. TrouWed with a palpitation of heart, and can't come. Sir C. He doesn't seem of that sort. What are the odds, now, tliat he doesn't wing me ! These greenhorns generally hit everything but the man they aim at. Olla. Do they 1 — Zounds ! then the odds are, that he'll wing me. I'll be principal, if you please ; for, to say the truth, I never served my time to the trade of a second. Sir C. Psha ! — You must measure the distance when he comes, Ollapod. Olla. VV^liat's the usual distance, Sir Charles 1 Sir C. Eight paces. Olla. Bless me ! men might as well fight across a coun- ter. Does the second always measure the ground ? Sir C. 'Tis the custom. Olla. Then you had better have chosen one a little lon- ger in the legs. If 1 was to fight, I'd come out with a co- lossus. Sir C. \Looking oJf\ l.] I see him coming to the stile. Olla. There ! he has jumped over. Curse him ! he's as nimble as quicksilver. And there's old Sir Robert wad- dling behind him like a badger. Sir C. They are here. Enter Frederick and Sir Robert Bramble, l. Sir R. Gently, Frederick; I tell you I'm out of breath. Frc. We shall be too late, and — Oh ! here's my man. I hope we haven't kept you waiting, sir. They say, in England, when people are to shoot at one another, it's the only engagement in which it's the fashion to be punctual. Sir C. You are pretty exact, sir Frc. Let us lose no time, if you please, then ; for din- ner will he spoiled. Sir C. Perhaps, sir, one of us may never go to dinnef asrain. Scimtlll.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 67 Frc. No ; but my uncle will, and 'twould be pity he should liave his meat over-roasted. Sir C. Mr. Ollapod, be so good as to walk over the ground. Olla. Left foot foremost, as they do in the infantry. Sir R. Hold, Sir Charles ! Perhaps this matter may be brought to an accommodation. Sir C. I don't well see how, Sir Robert. Sir R. If you are alive to fair argument, I think I shall convince you, you have been cursedly in the wrong. Sir C. I didn't come here to argue, sir. Sir R. Didn't you 1 Frederick, you must shoot him : a man that won't listen to argument, deserves to be blown to the devil ! Olla. [Finishing his ineasuremeni.] Five — six — seven — eight ! Frc, We'll take our ground, if you please, sir. Sir C. Give me that, Ollapod; [Taking a pistol from him,] and sucess to hair-triggers ! Sir R. [ To Frederick.] Here is your pistol, my dear lad. Zounds ! my heart is as heavy as a bullet ! Happen what will, I shall never forget poor Job ; and as for you, Frederick — Come ! d — n it : we mustn't blubber now ! [ They take their ground and present. Olla. Stop! here's somebody coming. [Aside.] Medical man never witnessed a finer crisis ! Enter Lieutenant Worthington, l. u. e. Wor. [Coming Jorwa7-d, c] My friend! Sir Robert Bramble, too ! — Pistols ! Fre. (l.) Stand out of the way, my dear sir! Whoever is on his legs after the first fire, will have the pleasure of speaking to you. Wor. Stay, gentlemen ! This business, I believe, re- quires my interference. Sir C. (r.) And pray, sir, what may make your inter- ference so necessary ] Wor. I conceive you to be Sir Charles Cropland ; which argues — Sir R. Don't waste your arguments ; they'll be all Jirown iway upon him. 68 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. [Act V Sir C. 1 am Sir Charles Cropland, sir; and, pray, whc are you 1 Wor. I will tell you, sir. I am an officer in his majes- ty's army, quick to resent a private injury, as I have been ready to face my country's foes. I am one, sir, who am as gratified to meet you, that I may chastise you as you merit, as you have ever been industrious to skulk from me, conscious of the punishment you have deserved. I need not tell you my name is Worth ington. Sir R. D — me ! but that is better than argument, and as unlike flattery as anything I ever heard in my life ! Fre. [To Sir Charles.] Now, pray, sir, are you and I to go home to our dinners, or are we to swallow a forced-meat ball in the fields 1 Sir C. We had better suspend the business, sir. There are ladies coming. Enter Lucretia and Emily, l. s. e. Luc. \Apart to Emili/.] Your father has trotted on, child, as if he was on a forced march. [Looking round.] Bless me ! who have we here 1 Emili/. My father, with Sir Robert, and Ha ! Sir Charles Cropland there 1 Luc. And that brute who left me in the mire. Olla. [Aside.] That's me ! Wor. You and I, Sir Charles, must find another moment for explanation. Sir C. The immediate moment may be the best. [Crosses to Emily.] Miss Worthington, I confess my fault and plead for pardon. You will not only, I hope, afford me your own, but intercede with Mr. Worthington for his also. [To Frederick.] You checked me, rather roughly, indeed, in a career which I have acknowledged to be wrong, sir. In • stead, therefore, of proceeding in resentment, it will be better to offer you my thanks, if you will be pleased to ac- cept them. Fre. Sir, 'tis pleasanter to be thanked than shot at, any time ; and I accept them willingly. Sir C. I take my leave, then. I haven't dashed through this scrape according to present principles : a man's own- ing he is sorry for his vices, may get him laughed at among Scene III.l THE POOR GENTLEMAN. BB a few gay friends, who have more spirits than thought; but I believe he'll hunt the pieasanter for it in Leicester- shire. \Exit, L. Olla. [Advancing, c.J Miss Lucretia Mac Tab, 1 confess my fault, and plead for pardon, since I unluckily left you in a puddle ; and I sincerely hope you'll never be in such a pickle again ! JLuc. Stand away, you brute! Olla. Sir Robert, I hope you won't withdraw your friendship ; and it would give me a deal of mortification to be cut off from your custom. Sir R. Oh, Master Ollapod, your little foibles are like your small quantities of magnesia — they give no great nau- sea, and do neither harm nor good. Olla. Come, that's very well— very well, indeed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you one ! [Aside.] I'll stay, and he'll ask me to dinner. Sir R. And what are you saying there to Miss Worthing- ton, Frederick 1 Fre. Telling her what good cheer there is in Blackberry Hall, uncle ; and what a worthy gentleman is at the head of the table, where I am going to have the pleasure to lead her. Sir R. You are devilish ready to do the honours — isn't he, Mr. Worthington % Wor. To do honour to the human heart, sir, I have found him very ready. Sir R. And have you found him so very ready to doho- nouf to the heart. Miss Worthington 1 Emily. Yes, indeed I have, sir. Sir R. I begin to perceive it. I'm a strange old fellow, fond of argument, they say ; but I have so little time left now in this world, that some of my arguments are a little shorter than they used to be. When I was hobbling over the stile, after Frederick there, and thought that the dog might be shivered to atoms, I made a determination in my own mind, if he happened to survive, that he and your daughter — What's your name, young lady % Emily. Emily, sir. Sir R. Ah ! a pretty name enough. That he and Emilj should make a happy couple. IVor, Never, sir ! 70 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. f Act f Sit R. That's a plump negatur ! We'll argue that point, if you please. iVor. My child, Sir Robert, has heard my opinions very lately ; and hearing the opinions of a friend, she adopts them. Sir R. Does she ? Then she's as little like Humphrey Dobbins in her mind, as she is in her features. ]Vor. To you it may now be necessary to say, that I am poorer even than poor ; but, observe, I disdain all solicita- tions. This very day I have been apprised — Sir R. Oh, I know what you mean — the bond for five hundred pounds. Wor. [Rather haughtily.^ How came you apprised of that bond, sir 1 Sir R. I have paid it. Wor. Paid it ! Sir R. Yes ; while Frederick was loading his pistols in the next room, to come to the field here. Wor. You astonish me ! Sir R. Why so ? I happen to be sheriff of the county; and as all writs are returnable to me, a scrubbyish fellow asked me to sign one against you. I thought it might be as well not to lock up a worthy man in a scurvy room, just as I had asked him, from no common motis'es, to sit down to my tnble ; — so I drew upon my bankers, instead of John Doe and Ricliard Roe ; and you may re-imburse me at your leisure. Fre. My dear, dear uncle, you have been before me here. Sir R. You rogue, if your fortune could serve you as well as your legs, I believe you'd have been before me here, too. Wor. I know not what to say to you, Sit Robert. Sir R. Confess you're a d — d bad physiognomist, and Pm content ! Say a man's countoTiance may a little belie his nature ; though, as sheriff of the county, I own I am head of the bum-bailiffs. Wor. I shall nrn^er be able to repay you this debt, sir, but by lou'T find miserable instalments Str R. You shall give me security, Wor. I wish it — any in my power. Sir R. Miss Emily, pray come here Frederick, yon ScEKE III.] THE POOR GENTLEMAN. 71 dog, come on the other side of me. Let rae appoint you two inistees for a bond Mr. VVorthington shall give me — a bond of family alliance ; fulfil your charge punctually, and Heaven prosper you in your obligations ! Mr. Worthing- ton, what say you 1 War. You overwhelm me — I cannot speak ! [Frederick emhraces Emily. Sir R. The trustees are dumb, too ; but I see they are embracing the obligations pretty willingly. Olla. [Aside.] A marriage between the young ones ! I hope I may be in favour with the family nine months hence ! Luc. Sir Robert, I rejoice at the alliance. The Bram- bles came in with the Conqueror, and are no disgrace to the Mac Tabs. Sir R. I haven't the honour to know exactly who you may be, madam, but I thank you. But, zounds ! our din- ner will be waiting. Make one of the party, if you please, Ollapod. Olla. I'll attack your mutton with all my heart, Sir Ro- bert. [.^side.\ I knew he'd ask me to dinner! Frc. Come, Emily, let me lead you to a house w'nere or»r days may be long — be happy ! You look doubtingly. Emilij. No, indeed. When my father doubted, I have doubted ; but I can read his eyes, as he, I own, not long since, read my heart. You have been my preserver, and I cannot help feeling gratitude. Sir R, Love, you mean, you little devil ! Frederick, we'll have Job a grandfather before he can get from Rus- sia ! Fre. My dear uncle, your hand — Mr. Worthington, suf- fer me to press yours. Emily, you have my heart ; and may hearts, when unvitiated by the world, meet the hap- piness I expect, and the approbation of the virtuous ! THE EPILOGUE, SPOKEN RY THE CHARACTERS. Olla. Dull Care, avaunt ! — All here are now content. S/r K. Hold ! that admits, perhaps, of argument. Some may be sickened here. Imc, B-.it how txT knoSv ^ •/2 THE POOR GENTLEMAN. jXcT ? OUa. Their pulses must be felt before they go. Sir R. Their pulses felt ! — That should be done by you. Olla. That's very well ! — Thank you, good sir — I owe you two ! \To the audience. Hold up your heads ! — Ahem ! — The patients smile, And don't seem troubled very much with bile. I dose men's spirits to their proper pitch j As Cornet, every female 1 bewitch. JjUc. Not when you leave a lady in the ditch! Wor. As father, I each father's favour court. Emily. As daughter, 1 from daughters ask support. Olla^ Apothecaries, cheer me with your bounty ! Sir R. Bum-bailiffs, me, as sheriff of the county. Fre. I deprecate the cruel critic's stabs. Luc. And I, by all the blood of the Mac Tabs ! Wor. And if, to-night, our efforts should succeed, Then The Poor Gentleman is rich indeed ! DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN. Luc. Wor. Emily. Fre Sir R. OubA E.] lb znx sifo LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 456 059