PR 45«fl II5F5 UBR ABY OF CONGRESS 01 4 490 062 5 E MILES OFF; R 4549 806 opy l FINGER POST^ a JFatce, IN THREE ACfS. BY TfDIBDIN, Author of Will for the Deed, Thirty -thousand, Cabinet, English Fleet, Family Quarrels, Valentine and Orson, 11 Bundocani, Five Thousand a Year, Guilty or not Guilty, Sfc. $>;c. AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRES HA Y-MA R KE T and NE W-Y R K. NEW-YORK : PUBLISHED BY D. LONGWOITH) St Hje Dramatic depositor)?, . Sha kspeare-Galkry. 1S06. a \ ?\ 1 1, / ( PROLOGUE. WRITTEN BY G. COLMAN, ESQ. SOME hypercritic cries, in every age, * How rich the past, how poor the present stage J f So undertakers say, on corpses fed, * Ah there's no man of value till he's dead f Some self made Aristarchus ever sits, Like a judge Jejferies, over modern wits, Bullies upon the bench — his upright plan, First to abuse, then execute the man. Still thrives our stage, still seems there vigor {n't ; For you smile here, while cynics scowl in print, Plain proof you think, vjhate'er our stage may be, Such critics infinitely worse than we ; Yet far from us, one murmur to repeat, When liberal censure fills the judgment seat, We thank the hand that points, with gentle art, The wholesome lancet to some morbid part ; The butcher with his hatcliet, tis we hate Who kills where skilful surgeons amputate. If we give trash, as some few pertlings say, Why flocks an audience nightly to the play ? If we be found immoral in our scene, What does the lazv's restraint on drama J s mean ? To state the first they laugh at you alone — To state the last is libelling the throne* Truth is when impulse can be fairly roused, Smile, tear, or grin, by you our arts espoused. However pedants preach, you'll think those fools, Who laugh or cry by Aristotle's rules. And while a laugh or cry is to be had, Authors and actors can't be very bad- Oh ! may this doctrine be allow'd to-night, And be a lavgh — broad laugh — your chief delight ; Look not with eyes of critical disdain, But favor one zvho strives to entertain. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Hay -market. New-York. Squire Flail Mr. Chapman Mr. Tyler Sordid Grove Shapter Kalendar Fawcett Twaits £d ward Rae Robinson Luckless Decamp Manin Andrew Noble Hallam Sprit^ins Mathews H °gg O'Gimlet Den man Harwood 11: urish Liston Darley Biack Bob Hatton Allen Dapper Menage Sau here Robert Parsloe Oiiff Thomas Johnston Chambers Dick Godwin, jr. Cliff Mrs. Prue Mrs. Powell Mrs. Simpson Mary Flail Mathews Miss White Jenny Gibbs Mrs Villiers Laura Luckless Miss Tyrer Miss DeJlinger FIVE MILES OFF; OR THE FINGER POST. A C T I. scene, a park lodge-^sun-riss. enter edward. Ediv WITH what exhilarating freshness does the breath of morn enliven the surrounding landscape, and how eagerly do the sweets of nature seem to start from their luxuriant beds, to hail the rising sun ; tis thus the cheering blaze of prosperity gladdens all, except the wretched few, who, like myself, are doomed to wither in the shade of poverty '. (knocks) who have I to blame? the man who unjustly surfers, has innate virtue to sus- tain his fortitude, while I— enter an drew from lodge. Well, my old foster father ! And. My poor young master— —and on foot too? Ediv. 1 have come hither in hopes — & And. Which wont help you on your way back— — your ill-used father Ediv. Mention him not— I scarcely have recovered the shock his death has given me. And. It was a bad day for his tenants, a woeful hour for his servants. Ediv. Yet they were happy— they did not offend b 2 e FIVE MILES OFF, OR [ T . sibdik him ; but 1 had not the legacy of a parting blessing, nor the consolation of thinking I deserved one. And. As to what he left to others — well, well, mr. Sordid, his rich steward, may have a marble monument ■when he dies, and fine veiseson it too, but 1 saw on your father's tombstone, somewhat that beats all the poetn I ever read. Edw His epitaph, already I am I the last to pay a tribute to his memory ? from what hand came it? And. From the heart, young master. His name was honored with a poorman's tear! the old curate said, that words may be cut in marble, and if such maiks as I saw, dont last here so long, it is because they are gone to be read in a better place. Edw When his son dies, if truth inscribe his epitaph, twill be the record of his follies. Has Sordid seized on all ? And. All. There were bonds and mortgages, which no one dreamt of till your father died. Edw My father has been as much misled as I have been ; tho his errors have been on the score of friendship ——mine of foil). And. 1 hope you'll call old Sordid to account ? Edw. I'll to him instantly a short visit will suffice for what I'd settle with him then for one interview elsewhere, a; d after that a musket, Andrew. Ana bir! Ediv Nay, fear not — 1 have been my own enemy too long, and dare not turn my rage against myself, while my country has a foe to vent it on. [exit And Poor lad ! I know whose house he means to go to next, and there he'll find the door shut against him : ah, if he knew who a certain person was going to be married to, he'd—— bless my heart— why neighbor' > enter s p r i g g i n s , zvith a letter. Sprig. Not much of a nighbor, now it's a long ■walk from our house to your's. I live with maister Kal- endar, the great star-gazing gentleman as gives his ad- act i] THE FINGER-FOST 7 vice to all his neighbors, and makes all the clipses of the moon— —and I have brought a letter ■■ And From him ? Sprig. No, not from him. And. Well, but for me? Sprig. No, for young mr. Edward Frankland, in case he should call on you ; it be a secret who it comes from. And. And who does it come from ? Sprig- Why, that ^ou been't to mention — nor you mustn't tell him ab teach their betters — so [ wish you a pleasant walk : here be only four roads to choose, and if you take but one at 12 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdikt a time, its nineteen to nothing, but you'll find the right way without axing any body, (going J Sor. What an inhuman clodhopper ! Sprig, (returns J I forgot to say, sir, that there's Gaf- fer Goreham's bull has a knack o' running at folks, and black Bob, brother to him as hangs in chains yonder, do swear vengeance on all as do pass this here way. Sor, Any thing else ? Sprig, Only a line dark cloud over head, and I ha* talk'd mysel too dry, to stand here to get wet for any body [exit Sor. A mad bull ! a robbery ! and a thunderstorm ! curse all cross roads and stage-coachmen ! to leave me at the mercy of Black Bob and his brother; for here they certainly come, and one of them bringing the gibbet with him. [exit. enter flourish and o'gimlet, carrying afinger-pGst O'Gim. There's a delightful direction-post, made by me, mr. O'Gimlet. Flou. And beautified by me, Solomon Flourish. O'Gim. Which is to stand here, and point to four roads at once, like the picture of three-finger'd Jack. Wait until [ move the stone turf that covers the hole { dug for it; there, down with it. (they fix it) Flou. Verily, friend, it is already too low ; the heads of the passengers will come bump against it, and the fin- gers thereof will poke out the eyes of all who look there- upon. O'Gim. And haven't I made the top loose, honey, that, if you tip it the least touch, it gets out of the way before you can say chips. Flou. (putting it round J Thou hast made it like un- to a turnstile ! O'Gim. To be sure. Would you have a poor tired foot passenger on horseback, walk about a post to read his way, when he may twirl it round as azy as nothing, to which of the four roads he plases. Flou. And from which every puff of wind will turn it, as it were a weathercock. act i] THE FINGER-POST 13 O'Gim. If your tongue wags about weathercocks, I'll put a spoke in the wheel of it. You're not at home, now, mr. Flourish, talking about the clearness of paint and provisions ; you may look big among little children, and tread upon every beadle in the parish ; but you dont humbug mr. O'Gimlet. Flou Thou art a stupid mortal. O'Gim. No more a mortal than yourself. I was bom in the family bed-room, my father made me his foreman when I was a boy ; gave me a hammer down upon the nail, and taught me the use of a saw, before I hadcut my teeth. Flou. Have I not also been a pains taking man ? O'Gim. Yes, and a panes-breaking man too. You're the village glazier, and crack bushels of windows for the benefit of trade. Flou. Have I not painted every sign in the village? where has thou seen a better dun cow than I have made? O'Gim. Guy of Warwick never kilt a dun cow more completely ; — I've seen you make a bull too ; for when you was ax'd to paint the arms of man, you stuck up the three legs. Flou. Verily, friend, the parish will not put up with this treatment of one of its respectable inhabitants. O'Gim. A parish that puts up your signs, will put up any thing — so pay me on the spot for this job, or I'll let a few of your glass tricks be seen through, for the gcocl of the corporation. — There, (shozvs a iong bill) there's a few items to begin with. Flou. It should begin with imprimis. O'Gim Oh, you'll put priming enough in your own bill, mr. Painter. Flou. (reads) c Item, a fatfge post — it'etii, timber for ditto— item, screws -item, three days and a quarter work —and three hundred long nails,' — Three hundred ! O'Gim. To be sure ; I couldn't make thzjingers with- out nails, you know, honey. Flou. ' Glue '.'—that article is charged more than all. thereat, friend. s 14 FIVE iMILES OFF, OR [t. dibdi* O^Gim. All owing to the high price of putty — Pm fol- lowing your own example. Jobs come so seldom, that, if it wasn't for a bit of glue, things would never be able to stick together at all at all. FLou. VVell ; make this thing fast, (turning it round) or I'll not pay thee one farthing. O'Gim. "You may make it fast yourself. Flou. 1 have not the craft. O'Gim. Oh, you've craft enough ; so take it to your own house; and, if you dont make it fast there, it will be the best used person in the family. [exit Flcn. It appertaineth not unto my business to set it right — he hath left it pointing to the paths of error ; and 1 will bear witness against him, when the traveller he may lead astray, shall seek redress from the men of wigs and long suits, whoare termed lawyers; who perplex us like the labyrinths of the little person called Cupid, in- to whose clutches I was once betrayed. SONG. Yea, I fell in the pit of love, With a ti turn ti. The spirit then began to move With a ti turn tt« Quoth I, ' fair maiden, ne'er deride, For verily, when thou'rt my bride, JLo, I will cleave unto thv side. With a ti turn ti.' ' Behold,' said Ruth, ' there is a grove With a ti turn ti. Where birds, call'd turtles, coo and love With ati lum ti.' Lo ! then I thought her truly mine ; 13ut when of love she gave the sign, She proved a cruel Phi— lis — tine, With a ti turn ti. act i] THE FINGER-POST 15 For she another suitor had, With a ti turn ti. Profanely call'd a flashy lad With a ti turn ti. And when I reacht the grove assign'd He came, before I Ruth could find, And kick'd me ruth — less — ly behind With a toe turn ti. [exit re-enter sordid. Sor. I've done it ; I'm a wise man : I have hid my money beyond yon clump. There are certain bonds, mortgages, and securities, too— —how came I by them ? no matter ; I've as much right to 'em as a highwayman, and wont be robbed. A pretty journey I've had for nothing ! can't find my son, so 1 have advertised him. Had the rogue known he had a rich father, he'd not have run away. What's here ? why they have put up a guide. (reads)'' To Harvest hall, Jive miles* Oh, 1 can man- age that pretty well. This post will point out the spot, when I return for my treasure in the morning : I've kept a trifle about me, in gold, silver and paper, to prevent ill usage; and, if I am robb'd, it shall only be of an odd- looking one pound note, a suspicious seven shilling piece, and a Brummagem six-pence. {exit enter black bob, in a great-coat. Bob. That man talkt of money ; I'll follow him.— — What's this ? a road-post ? I took it for something else. What a hard thing it is a man can't begin his daily oc- cupation, without being put in mind of what will be the end of it ! [exit after Sordid enter mary flail and jenny. Jen. Now doey, miss Mary, blesse, doey come on a bit vaster ; we shall never get home ; and I be all over Rightfulness and consternation, for vear o'these vootpads and highway robberies, that do walk about all night, and theie be put in the newspapers every morning. 16 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin Mary. There's no cause for fear, Jenny ; and I must rest a moment, {sits on a bank) Jen. Now doan'tye go to stop, whatever ye do. If we be overtaken here by strange men, there'll be desparte work, I promise ee. Mary. I haven't much to lose, and should make no resistance. Jenny. No more haven't I, miss, except this trifling token ; and, if they offerd to touch that, I be but a weak girl, but they should have all the assistance 1 could gi, I warrant 'em. Mary. Is it a love token, Jenny ? Jen. I do hope it be, miss ; and I'm sure you dont think there is anv harm in love tokens, or you would ne- ver have ventur'd out so far without your vather's know- ing it, at this time o'night. Mary. Perhaps you think me to blame, Jenny? Jen. Not at all for that, miss ; to be sure, when I were at home, I couldn't stir a voot without vather's leave; and as he never would give it me, I staid at home, like a dutiful child. Mary. Could you never get an opportunity ? Jen. No, miss, a poor cottage like ours, had but one door to't — now, your father's, squire Flail's fine hall, ha' got so many, there's hardly finding the way in or out for 'em. Mary. I was much happier before my father was so rich ; and I liked the company of our honest neighbors, better than all the gentlemen who now pay court to us. Jen. So did I, miss. The young men of our village did use to do their best to entertain a young woman at a fair or a feast ; but gentlemen do send their sweethearts away from the table along wi' the cloth, that they may keep all the good things a'ter dinner to themselves ; and yet your sweetheart was a gentleman too. Mary. And is so stili, by birth. Imprudent Edward! Low early in life to have effected his ruin ! Jen. He had better have ruin'd any body else! Mary. If my father had not sanctioned our meetings, act i] THE FINGER-POST 17 when we were poor, and Edward thesupposetl heir to his father's wealth, I shouldn't have ventured this act of dis- obedience. I'm sorry we didn't see him ! Jen. Never mind, miss, my sweetheart, John Sprig- gins, lias given the letter, long afore this. Mary. As it contain'd money, to spare his feelings, I didn't say from whom it came. Jen. 1 was afraid o'that, miss ; and, thinking that, in all matters of true love and courtship, there ought never to be no deceit; and that nothing ought to be done that nobody shouldn't be ashamed on, why, 1 — 1 — thought — Alary, {with apprehension) You thought 1 well ! ——and——— Jen. I put in a bit of a note, which, as he knows 1 can't write, he'll never inspect whence it came. Mary. Worse and worse ! — imprudent girl ! — who wrote it ? Jen. Nobody as knows its meaning. Cousin Rem- nant, the tailor, be a poet, and famous for what he do call Ids measures, and distiches, and hemstiches ; so I axd'n to write down only three lines, as 1 had mad out o'mv own head. Mary. Three lines! Jenny. Yes — he said three lines are call'd a driblet : so he wrote'n, and I slipt'n into the paper that had the blank notes in un. Mary. Do you remember them ? Jen. Yes, miss. ' When secret love does thus prevail, * Remember thereby hangs a tale — * Your humble servant, Mary Flail.' Mary. Mary Flail! why, you're a ridiculous- — I — my very name at the bottom, too ! Jenny. No, miss; I told un there must be no name at the bottom ; so he put two lines a'ter that, (a noise heard) Alary. Hark ! some one is making his way through the thicket. Come, Jenny ; how can you loiter here ; we shall be insulted. s 2 18 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin Jen. I told ee how 'twould be, miss ; but there's no cause for taar, you know ; so, pray, do stop, and hear the rest of my cousin's poetry. Mary. Nonsense ! we are followed. Come, girl, come. [runs off Jen. There, that comes o'fme talking. When danger be at a distance, volks laugh at 'n ; for my part, I ha' got more courage than to run away at my own shadow. 1 dare say it be only a (going to look, immediately returns') Oh, missi stop, for 1 1 — we shall be robb'd — we shall be kill'd — we shall be oh, dear, dear, dear, miss Mary! [exit, bawling reenter black bob. Bob, I thought I heard the squall of a woman. I fear some one is poaching on my manor ; it must be some new hand ; for gemmen footpads of the old school have too much honor to break into one another's walks.— Let's see— i made but a poor prize of that old traveller; and this unlucky greatcoat may happen to betray me. I'll not venture to the village in't. The old man look'd plaguy hard at it— if he had been a young one, I'd have knock'd him down. I'll leave the coat here, (throws it over the jinger-post) I have taken one pound, seven shillings, and sixpence — lor which I must leave my coat behind me: it's rather hard ; and, if times dont alter for the better, I shall begin to think a man may as well live honestly, if it's only for the sake of his own interest. END OF THE FIRST ACT, ACT II. scene continues, enter luckless (shabbily genteel) Luck. I thought I saw some one to ask the way of— (takes out a newspaper) Let me see — (reads) * If Law act ii] THE FINGER-POST 19 rence Luckless, formerly of ' ay, my native place, sure enough \ will apply to Firebrand Flail, esquire, or' Harvest-hall, he will hear of something to his advan- tage.' It's high time I should — I've had my share of disadvantages ; but, hang despair ! it's as shabby as my own appearance. I have just made my dinner and my toilet, by the road-side — brushed up my best— yes, my very best coat! and want nothing but a shower of rain to blacken my hat: — and then to the Hall, like a gentle- man, (going, sees the post, with the coat on it) Eh ! what the devil's that? a thief, or a scare-crow ? enter edward. Edw. Neither, my boy ; but an old friend, who is equally glad and surprised to meet you. Luck, if I wasn't afraid of making one of my usual blunders, I'd swear, that of all other men in the world, you were my once merry companion, Edward. Edw. You may swear it with a safe conscience. I knew you at a distance, by your walk, which, like your ideas, is never in a straight line. I could not be mista- ken, though I had so little light to see you by. Luck, (looking at his dress) Why, you have seen me in a better light than this, 1 confess, Ned ; however, you are very little altered — you seem to be as ready to ac-? knowledge a distrest friend as ever you were. Edw. Heaven forbid I should be otherwise I but I shall be truly sorry if you are distrest ; I hope you dont want much assistance. Luck. Indeed ! why ? Edw. Because, pshaw I because it would not be in my power to afford it you. Luck. No ! the heir of a fine estate ; the life and soul of all your acquaintance ; favorite of the lasses — any of the lads ; darling of the tenants; and best cricket player in Christendom ! Edw. As the poet says — ' I cannot but remember such things were, and were most dear to me ;' but, now I'm ruin'd — ruin'd by the artifice of my late father's steward, 2» FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin and who is now bis sole executor. Luck. Well, but how * Edw. Guilty of irregularities, which he in private abetted, 1 became so much his dependent for support and secrecy, that he was, at length, enabled to alienate me from my father's affection. Luck. But — in your father's dying moments— Edw. I was artfully kept from him — was disinherited —but, damn the money — had 1 but seen my father— Luck. Bear up, my boy, and wish with me, that some quick claw'd devil may fiy away with old Sordid ; wherever he is, may this spot prove the place of his pun- ishment, and may his ill-gotten goods be transferred to the lawful owner, as unexpectedly as he obtained them. Edzv. Rather let me blame my own want of confi- dence in a parent. If you wouldn't laugh at my mo- rality, 1 would say, happy is the child, who, by acknow- ledging a first failing, avoids the necessity of a thousand more, to keep that one a secret. Luck. For my part, I never knew a parent to confess my failings too ; if I had, there'd have been plenty to have acknowledged ; but I keep up my spirits, and, though 1 was unlucky before I was born, I dont remem- ber that I cried a bit the more for it. Have you no mo- ney ? Edw. None that I can call my own. Luck. Can't you borrow ? Edzv. No, for 1 know not when I can repay. Luck. Which is the very reason why some people do borrow. Edw. It's not the loss of wealth that I regret, but the artful viper, in the person of his son, would deprive me of my love. Luck. Has he a son ? Edw. One never owned till now. He is to marry the girl who — but I must hasten to return the contents of this letter, which her disinterested affection would have deceived me into accepting. Luck. What, you hare money, then? Edw. Yes, and it has been most curiously conveyed act ii] THE FINGER-POST 21 to me — but I have pride, also ; an honest pride, which, while I have youth and strength, forbids me to appropri- ate to my own use, the hard earn'd savings of those who may want them in their old age, or to profit by the art' less attachment of an inexperienced female; but, come, accompany me to Harvest-hall. Luck. The very place I'm going to. I'll tell you a few of my adventures on the road, and if what I am promised there to my advantage, can be thrown into your scale, you shall share it, or take it all and welcome. {rain heard) Ediv. You're a generous lad ; let's see what way are we in. (looking rouud) Luck. In a way to be wet through, if we dont make haste. Ediv. Come along, then, (going) Luck. Not that path — look here, here's a guide for the road, and a coat for the weather. Ediv. No matter for the guide — I know the road lies here. Luck. Does it? why, then the post lies here ; for look —as for this coat Edw. Come ; it has been hung to dry by some one. Luck. Who will thank me for taking it out of the wet. I've been curst unlucky all my life, and never found a prize before, (takes it down : screams are heard) Edzu. The voices of women in danger !— follow me, friend. [exit Luck, (as he puts on the coat) That I will. Why, Edward ? — —which road has he taken? no matter; for when a female wants assistance, the devil take him who can't find the way without a finger-post. [exit, after Edward scene, a hall at squire Flail's. enter mrs. prudence and flail. Mrs. Prue. It's to no purpose being angry. I tell you she has gone out, mr. Flail. 22 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t.dibdin Flail. Gone out, cousin Prue ? my daughter gone out, without my leave, or your company ? Mrs. Prue. Ay, cousin ; and heaven knows where she is gone : nay, if 1 didn't scorn to carry tales, I could tell you who's gone with her. Flail. Not that spendthrift, Edward, I hope? if the hussey has dared — Mrs. Prue. No, no ; trust to my care for that ; Jane has gone with her — the wench you have given her as own maid— own maia indeed ! there was no such thing in the family, when 1 had the care of it. Flail. Jt gets plaguy late — I'll go look for her — I ex- pect old Sordid and his son every moment — I think they might have come a little earlier. Kal. {without) Wind N. E. by north. Mrs. Prue. Here's neighbor Kalendar. Flail. With some of his impertinent advice, I sup- pose ; 1 remember the fellow when he hadn't a shilling. Mrs. Prue. Hush ! or he may remember the same of you. Flail. When he lived by making almanacks, and when you turn'd up your nose at him. Mrs. Prue. Ay, he was poor then, but now enter kalendar. Kal. Here's alteration in the weather !—— ah ! mrs. Prue ? how do, Prue ? Mrs. Prue. Prue ! sir, I am——— Kal Rather frosty this evening — old Firebrand, your fist ; the barometer of fortune has risen with us both, but shouldn't alter either of us. Flail. No; you'll be a walking weather-glass as long as you live. Kal. Better that than be a weather-cock, eh! mrs. Prue ; it's time the mercury in our veins should stick at temparate. Mrs. Prue. It may with elderly people, mr. Kalen- dar ; but I shall go and see if that thoughtless girl is returned. O ! mr. K. for all your cold looks, there was 3 time when you little thought of change. [exit act ii] THE FINGER-POST 23 Kal, Change ! that was when I hadn't a guinea ; but, come, friend flail, I want to counsel you — I fear you've had bad advisers. Flail, Never took any advice but my own. Knl. That's just what I mean. Flail. Sir, I've money in my pocket — good tenants on my land — a line girl of a daughter— -and a delightful pack of hounds -then what do I want with advice? Kal. To learn how to spend your money — manage your tenants— marry your daughter — and choose friends to go a hunting with. Flail. VV ho s to teach me ? Kal. Vox stellar urn—study the stars— do you take in my new almanack ? Flail. Not I ; I was a farmer twenty years, and never knew one right in my life; they always snow when they should rain, and if they promise sun shine, they make such thundering mistakes, that all the beer in the cellar gets sour'd by 'em. Kal. There are times and seasons for all things ;--I come to speak of your daughter. Flail. She shall marry whom I please; and what says your almanack to that, old Weather-wise ? Kal. Why it says that girls should be transplanted from the garden of good education- Flail. 1 gave ninety pounds a year. Kal. To be grafted on some healthy stock— Flail. Well, and dont I say—— Kal. While those, who from the hot beds of false re- finement—— Flail. Whew! come down from your cabbage stalks, and dont compare my family to sprouts and parsly beds; be she girl, or be she garden-stuff, she marries the son of old Sordid. Kal. Which is wedding Virgo to Capricorn. Flail. Now he's got out of the ground into the skies — didn't you say just now, there were seasons for every thing? Kal. Truly ! — in childhood, to get wisdom and whip- 24 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdi* ping — in youth, sow wild oats — in manhood, marry ; and meet with other misfortunes — in old age— Flail. We're too wise to miss the tide, by looking at the moon. Kal. That's a hit at my old trade; never mind— I come of a family who— Flail Now for their whole chronology; I knew but two of your forefathers, and they Kal. Resided here before 1 was born, which happen- ed on new-year's day, one thousand seven hundred and nfty-five,# sixteen minutes and a half past three in the morning, as per grandmother's gold watch, then lying on a claw table in a corner of the room. Flail. Psha ! Pve heard that the first of your family came into this country — Kal. Anno twelve hundred and fifty-two, at the very time when Roger Bacon invented the magic lanthorn. Flail. Ay, they carried it about, I suppose, and taught their children the art of magnifying. Kal. Sir, my ancestors were never obliged to the fam- ily of the Flails, even for a thrashing. Flail. And as for yourself — Kal. I was sent to school in the year sixty-three— made prodigious progress in every thing they didn't wish me to learn — was 'prenticed to a spectacle-grinder in sixty-nine, where I learn'd to make almanacks, and predicted every thing but my own good luck, till a dis- tant relation came from abroad, with more money than health, who was so overjoyed at my foreboding him a long life, that he died directly and left me every shilling. Flail. And now you give advice grata"*. Kal. I do ; and would have you give your daughter where you promised her — you've had your fortunate planet as well as me, and should remember that liberal- ity is a sun-beam which ought never to be eclipsed by avarice. Flail. Sir, I seorn to reflect on any body, but Kal. I know you do— and while you refuse to shale with others, the light which is only reflected on yourself, your lucky star will dwindle to a rush-light, and, when act ii] THE FINGER-POST 25 the extinguisher of old Time puts you out, you'll eva- porate in smoke, old Firebrand. Flail. Put me out, sir 1 I'll put you Kal. Into any thing but a passion ; look, yonder's your daughter, all agitation, like a pond before rain ;— • bless me ! (looking at his ivatch) Venus and Jupiter are on the point of a conjunction ; I'll just take an observa- tion through the next room window, and be back in a twinkling. Flail. Take care, lest in making your observations, you make some of your usual errors. Kal. I understand you ; you're always twitting me with experimental mistakes — such as flying electrical kites in a thunderstorm — and giving such a red-hot focus to the school-master's spectacles, that they set his wig on fire and what then ? it's natural to make mis- takes in anv art, and when the intention is not erroneous, he's a plaguy ill-natur'd fellow who wont make allow- ance for 'em. [exit Flail. Let a parent act as honestly as he may, folks wiil blame him ; I dare not wed my daughter to a spendthrift, nor will 1 force her to marry where she has no liking ; and, if Sordid's son should not prove to be the man I take him for — perhaps—but I wont be taik'd out of my reason, for people, never know the value of indulgence half so well as when it comes from authority that knows how to make itseif respected. enter mary and edward. Mary, (running to her father) Oh I my dear father, such an escapel I owe my life, nay more, perhaps, to the gallantry of Edward. Flail. Gallantry ! hark'ye, sir, if you have served my daughter, I thank you, and so we part friends. (leads M ary to the other side) Mary He saved me from a ruffian, who — Flail. How came you from home ? Mary. I was to blame to go without your knowledge — but— I- -I meant no harm. c *r means Flail. And are yet so mad as to expect I will match you with my daughter ; sirrah 1 sirrah ! before young folks accuse fathers and grandfathers of cruelty and hold 'em up to ridicule in stage plays and romances, they should look at home, and think on the greater cruelty of exposing an honest man's child to suifering and po- verty for the sake of their own selfish gratification, \_exit Edzv. His arguments are not to be opposed, and I should be a scoundrel were 1 to proceed. What's to be done ?— resign her to a lival ? — no ! — a house and land before to-morrow — oh, had I time, I'd overcome all obstacles > and ravish from fortune by industry and per- severence, the minor gifts of wealth, as mere steps to the prize I aim at— but now tis impossible. re- enter kalendar. Kal What's impossible to a lover ?— if he had ordered you on an errand to Abyssinia, or bid you fetch a glass of spring-water from the source of the Nile, you'd have hired horses, and been off directly ; but when he only asks what's done eveiy day, Edzv. Sir! Kal. Why, I've heard all ; and, from friendship for your poor old father, should like to serve you, and chouse old Sordid Bless my soul ! has nobody got a little freehold to dispose of ? Edzv. I thought you saw no difficuly ? Kal. None but what I can— you're sure you cant buy one f Edzv. Should people without money buy estates ; Kal. People without money have most occasion for 28 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin 'em. Stay, I think I have it ; old Flail has affronted me ; spoken disrepectfully of my forefathers ; abused my al- manack ; slighted my advice, and ridiculed my predic- tions ; but I'll be even with him. You shall take him at his word, force him to give you his daughter's hand, and obtain his consent against his inclination. Edw. This is a paradox ! Kal. I deal in paradoxes. Come home with me, and I'll make it as clear to you as the sun in his meridian. Edtv. Remember, he has a bosom of flint. Kal. Then do you have a heart of steel, and my brain shall be the tinder-box, to light a match he little dreams of. Come, it would be hard indeed, if 1 who have made a model of the moon, added stars to the orrery, and furnisht fine weather to the whole country, couldn't predict the end of an affair like this. I had a sweetheart myself once, and for her sake would have conquer'd ten times your difficulties. Oh, those were happy times, when 1 dreaded no storms but in love's almanack, when I set down frowns for foul weather, smiles for sun shine, and every billet-doux for a red-letter day [exeunt scene, Kalendar's study and library. an orrery, telescopes, electrical apparatus, chairs, fyc. spriggins awe? jenny discovered. Jen. Lord, now, mr. Spriggins, if any of the folks at our house knew I was here, at your master's, mr. Kalen- dar's, what would they say to it ? Sprig. Why, they'd say as you corned a courting to me, or else as you wanted your fortin told by him. Jen. I'm sure I only came to ask advice about poor young mistress ; she'll be lock'd up, and fed upon bread and water, if she dont marry the strange young man that's expected. Sprig, Well, and how's my master to help that ? act n] THE FINGER-POST 20 Jen. Why, can't he cast some of their nativities, and look through a sagnifying-glass, and tell about stars and iiery dragons. Sprig. A s%nifying-glass ! — a horoscope, you mean. Lord help you! why, you be as ignorant as you be pret- ty- Jen. Yes; I'm very ignorant. Are these all his books? Sprig. Yes : he do know what's o'clock all over ihe ■world ; geography be is hobby-horse ; and when he s once up, iie rides like a witch on a broomstaff. Jen. Mercy on us ! and what's that ? (pointing to the orrery) Sprig. That's a horrary— that's Jupiter and his set o' ligfits—' and Satan and Lucifer, and the rest of the hea- venly bodies. Jen I thought Venus was a heavenly body. Sp}ig. Yes; and this shows ail her motions; and this is a comet ; and these suns be all moons. Jen (going to the electrical machine) And what's this ? — be this music ? Sprig. No; dont touch that ; if you turn that handle round, you'll do mischief — it be put there to be ready against mr. Roundabout, the gouty tax-gatherer comes to be collectrified. Jen. Never mind — is the old gentleman coming up? Sgrig. No ; but if you meddle with that infer'naj ma- chine, you may bring the old gentleman up in good ear- nest. Jen. Mercy on us ! and so these are your masters tools to tell fortunes with. Sprig. No ; this is the way to tell fortunes— give me your hand. Jen. La, mr. Spriggins 1 Sprig. Let me see— ay, you'll be married to a tall- thin young man, about my age. Jen. Indeed ! Sprig. Yes ; you will marry a batchelor ; and your first husband will live to have two wives. Jen. What— at one time f c 2 30 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin Sprig. Oh, no. Jen. No! why, then, I dont think you understand fortune-telling at all. 1 have been told better ; and I would not die and leave the best husband in England, if I could help it. Sprig. Then you shall marry me. I've forty pounds a-year, besides wagers ; and, if master would put us into a new public-house, by gemini, we'd set up the seven signs of the zodizvac. Jen. There's too many signs in the village already ; the half moon's never full, and there's nobody in the sun from morning till night. Sprig. Well ; and, if so be as — (Jenny lets fall a baro- meter, which breaks) there, you've broke one of the best weather-glasses — there'll be a fine storm when master comes home— he'll be all over in a constellation. Jen, Twas all along o' you : what did you talk such nonsense to me for— about seven signs at one public house ? Kal. {without) What the devil are you all at there ? Jen. O, dear ! o dear ! what shall 1 do r I dare not face him ; I shall be kill'd! Sprig. Run in here, and I'll take the fault all on my- self, (puts her in a closet) enter kalendar, followed by edward. Kal. Here's a chaos! hey-day! who has done this ? Sprig. Not Jenny, sir— it were I, sir. I wear look- ing for the great bear, sir ; and, when 1 saw you coming, I were so frightful o' your being angry, that I knockt un over, sir. Kal. Out of my sight, you plague of Egypt. Sprig. Dear, dear, how will Jane get out of the clo- set ! [aside and exit Kal Every thing in confusion ; not a planet in it's orbit ; the globe upset ; the glass fallen— and I shall be ruined. There, I must put my stars out of their reach. act n] TH£ FINGER-POST 31 (stands on a chair, and puts the orrery on a high shelf) i think nobody will get at that again. Edw. Unless they stand in that high chair, as you did. Kal. I'll put that in its place too. {puts the chair in a recess, behind a curtain, and fixes a chain to it, from the electrical machine) There, lhat chair is charged with electric fluid; and, if any one touches thai, a single turn of this handle will tickle their tobies. John Spriggins I enter spriggins. Sprig. I be here, sir. Kal, Run to O'Gimlet, the carpenter, and bid him make haste, where 1 told him, and do you go and help him. Sprig. Yes, sir. [exit Kal And, John ! Sprig, (re-entering) Yes, sir. Kal. Take Flourish, the painter, in your hand, and bid 'em both make haste. Sprig. Yes, sir. Dear, dear, how will Jane get out of the closet. [exit Kal. And, Spriggins I — re-enter spriggins. You dont know of any body that has a little freehold to part with ? Sprig. Vreehold ! no, sir! I have forty pounds a-year, besides wagers ; but Kal. Dont stand chatter'ng there. [exit Spriggins Now, ar'nt you all impatience to know what I'm about. {to Edward,) Edzv. Rather anxious, 1 confess. Kal. You observed, that, in our transit hither, I touch'd at the carpenter's, bricklayer's, and painter's? Edw, I dont see how that relates to me. Kal. No J did you never hear of my book upon forest charters, and rights of common? (reaches a folio J 32 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdin Ediv. No, sir ; and, at a time like this, I had rather be excused attacking so large a volume. Kal Large ! heaven forbid a free public should ever countenance any abridgment of their common rights ! no, no ; here's the passage shall explain this my Leryj Ediv. It isn't long I hope, sir ? Kal. Silence I (reads) * By virtue'of one of our forest charters, if a man do build a dwelling upon common land, from sun-set to sun-rise, and inclose a piece of ground, wherein there shall be a tree growing, a beast feeding, a fire kindled, a chimney smoaking, and provi- sion in the pot, such dwelling shall be freely held by the builder, any thing herein to the contrary, neverthe- less notwithstanding. Edw. But how ? Kal Dont interrupt me; I've bargain'd for the wood- en billiard-room at the Crown. We'll cany it to the forest, build a chimney at one end of it, plant a tree from my garden, and to-morrow shall make a freeholder of you. Edw. Sir, your zeal for my service makes you forget, that, when the means are unworthy of the end — Kal. That we ought to stop in the middle? psha! there are spots in the sun ; and when we can't snow ■white, we must snow brown. Look at that team : (takes him to window) there go three parts of your mansion, upon four wheels. Your star is in its altitude. I've hired Charles' wain to carry your house and sietfortuna dornus. Edw. Yet, ere we go further — Kal. We must buy a cow and a kitchen range. Edw But when mr. Flail comes to know — Kal. That you've got a good fire and a piece of beef, he'll give you something to make the pot boil. Edw* Your plan is romantic. Kal. If it was not I'd have nothing to do with it : the times are romantic, and I always accord with the seasons, from one year's end to another. Edw. Always ? 1 act in] THE FINGER-POST 33 Kal. Yes; I bring in the new-year, and eat twelfth- night cake in January ; write valentines in February, March, in procession with st. David, and dine with the sons of st. Patrick ; make fools in April ; dance with the chimney-sweepers in May; drink the king's health in June ; and take the longest day to pay my bills. Jump into ocean in July ; cut my corn in August ; go hopping and popping in September ; brew in October; chair Guy Faux, and my lord mayor in November; while,, in December, roast beef, plumb pudding, old port, blindman's buff, romps, riddles, and kissing the pretty girls under tne misletoes ; wind up our Christinas gam- bols, and set us all agog to begin the new year again. [exeunt END OF THE SECOND ACT. ACT III. scene, an apartment at squire Falils. enter Robert and luckless. Rob. Who, sir, shall T. say wants master ? Luck. Mr. Lawrence Luckless from Rob. Yes, sir; mr. Lucky Lawrence, from— —from where did you say, sir ? Luck, (giving a newspaper) Here, that will do instead of a card ; say its the gentleman described in that paper. Rob. Gemieman ! 1 must tell him that or he wont find it out I fear. [aside and exit Luck. With my usual good fortune, 1 lost my friend Edward as soon as I found him ; forgot what he told me about the finger-post, and have come some miles out of 34 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t. dibdiw way. I believe what one finds on the highway is one's own, and, I'm not a little obliged to the owner of this coat for leaving it where he died; it hides my shabby habiliments, and gives me so much the air of a horse- dealer, that I look quite like a man of fashion in it. enter flail zvith the paper. Flail. Servant, sir; a well looking lad. (aside) Glad to see you, and as you are brought here by this promise, '(showing paper) dare say you're not sorry to see me. Luck. Nor yet a little impatient to hear you, sir, on the subject of that promise. Flail. I'll satisfy you directly ; sit down and tell your history. Luck: Nay, sir, tis T who came to listen. Flail. Indeed ! and how am 1 to know whether you are the person here meant ? Luck Sir, I am the sou of a mother who died soon af- ter 1 was born— of a father who never owo'd me ; and have been left to a guardian, who, between friends is one of the greatest — Flail. Hush ! you dont know who you are abusing. Luck. I was so pointed at by the village boys as the child of nobody, that I quitted the place of my birth, was overtaken by my guardian, whom 1 have never seen since, and sent to a cheap school at a great distance. Flail So far so good. __Luck. Perhaps not ; the schoolmaster was extravagant- ly fond of boxing and rural sports, and paid me so much attention, that I was quickly grounded in the elements of Walton's Angler— could knockdown any boy in the first form -and never underwent even the correction of a fishing-rod. Flail Nay, if -you run away from your story' Luck. It will be exactly what I did from my school; where as soon as I could beat the master at his own les- sons, he beat me in return ; I fled to the cottage, where jnr. Edward Frankland, a former play-fellow, was at his studies ; and my guardian forgave me, because the 'fc act in] THE FINGER-POST 35 schoolmaster dare not demand his money, and because I got the rest of my education for nothing. Flail. With Edward Frankland ? Luck. As an humble companion, we exchanged our mutual accomplishments; and though I may not be so good a classic as he wishtto make me, yet it is my pride to say, that I taught him to tickle a trout in a stream, or put in a belcher at a boxing match with any man on globe. . Flail. You next went 'prentice ? Luck. To one who detested latin, and hated boxing, so I ran away again from the prejudice of education, and have been left to my own resources, till your public invi- vitation procured me the honor of this private audience. Flail. Your story proves you the right person : now hear mine. Luck. lam quite satisfied of your identity, and would rather be told of what relates to myself. Flail. Listen, sir. A careful middle aged man, who had been uncommonly severe on the faults of others, committed one himself. Luck. That I haven't the least doubt off. Flail. The partner of his folly died, and left a son : the father, fearing to offend a patron on whom he then de- pended, pass'u for the guardian of this boy, whom he brought up to bustle with the world ; — the patron is dead— the father is rich— and \ou— you are the son and heir. Luck, His son ? son to old Sordid ! Flail. You are not ashamed of a rich father ? Luck. Ashamed? no, but you are not joking, are you? Flail. Joking! Luck. I have heard him so spoken of, that — that as he is my father, I must forget it. I have not been used to the name of father, but I know my duty— and— I never shali be able to thrash half the people that I have heard abuse him. Flail. Well, but he has offer'd you as my son-in law. Luck-, I heard that before I knew who I was. 36 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [t.dibdin Flail. And as you have given a true account of your- self, perhaps I don't like you the worse for it. Luck. $ut as to being your son-in-law, Sir, I have a friend who must be consulted. Flail. Aye, you mean Edward, I suppose. Luck. He would furnish a reason against it : but I have another— my wife might possibly have some ob- jection. Flail. Married ! Luck. Yes ; I can't say she's much of a wife, being hardly higher than your cane, but her's is an engage- ment I never intend to run away from. Flail. And where is she ? Luck. Ten miles off only — at a little inn, where she waits the intelligence my visit seemed to promise. Flail. And what do you mean to do ? Luck. Why the best thing I can do will be to what do you think ? Flail. Umph !— My advice will be soon given — Ro- bert, (enter Rob.) saddle my daughter's horse and mine, (exit Rob. You shall fetch your wife, and meet your father. — You'll eat and drink first ? Luck. I have little appetite. Flail. Why ? Luck. Because I have fasted nearly the whole day : and a pleasant change is so new to me, that though I have always kept my spirits when in trouble, they seem to think now I have no further occasion for them. Flail. Oh ! well ; a good glass of wine will bring you up again. Luck. Perhaps it may. — I thought good luck was coming when I found this coat ; and now I have found this father of mine. Flail. Speak of him with respect. — No son shall for- get his duty in my presence. Luck. Aye, Sir ; but when a parent has taken so lit- tle pains to make other folks speak well of him act in] THE FINGER-POST 3? Flail. He has the more need to be defended by his children. [exeunt scene, Kalendar's study, as before, jenny, (passing from the closet.) Jenny. Its mortal cruel of John Spriggins to let me stay here so long. — Nobody seems to be in the way ; so, I'll go, without even saying good bye to him. — I'll be hang'd if here isn't mrs. Prudence, old master's cousin. — If she catches me here, it will be as much as my plan is worth. — I'll be bound she comes to find me out. — What a mean thing it is for people to be so cu- rious. — I'll hide again, and try if I can't overhear what she wants, (returns into the closet J enter mrs. prudence. Mrs. P. Why the house is quite deserted. — I'm sure I traced that hussey Jane to the door ; and whether she comes to see John Spriggins, or to consult mr. Kalen- dar, I'm determined to discover. — I hope its John ; for, if she dare have any design on his master its a shame for young women to be trying to decoy men who bless me, here's mr. Kalendar, and I don't think I ever look'd so shocking in all my life, {runs to a glass and adjusts herself) enter kalendar. Kal. The work goes bravely forward — bricklayer., carpenter, painter, glazier, and gardener, all busy ; and I'll bet Herschell's telescope to an opera glass, that our plan will be accomplished within time. — Ah, mrs. Prudence, this is an honor. Mrs. P. {simpering) Do you really think so, sir ? Kal. Any particular commands ?— came home in a hurry to electrify the gouty tax gatherer, and must be off again directly. 7) S3 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [Dibdin Mrs. P. I shan't detain you, sir. — I neither want my fortune told, nor my nativity cast. Kdl. Cou'dn't do that if you did. — Ladies must tell their age, you know. Mrs. P. You have been taken in then. {Jenny peeps out-, mrs. P. sees her) Kal. Oh, yes; the dear deceivers have played me a thousand tricks Mrs. P. {eyeing the closet) Indeed ! I thought as much. Kal. Yes : there was your neighbor, mrs. Wizen- face, came here t'other day. Mrs. P. {still watching the closet) An impudent hussey. Kal. No, not impudent, but as fine as a rainbow, and as crooked, into the bargain : — she gave me a wrong age, and I prophesied all the good things that have since happened to her grand daughter. Mrs. P. Its a great shame. Kal. But what can I do ? — I don't know how to dis- pose of half the females who come to me. Mrs. P. No ! — have you no convenient room, mr. Ka'.endar, you could contrive to put a lady into? Kal. Oh, mrs. Prudence ; fie, for shame ! why you wou'dn't think of such a thing ; would you ? Mrs. P. {bridling) Me! no, sir ; but there are some whom you might lock up, with their own consent too. Kal. I keep no key for any such purpose ; my clo- sets are ail full of curiosities of every age ; 3nd I wou'dn't put a woman among 'em for the world. Mrs. P. {significantly) Is there no curiosity in that closet ? Kal. A great many:— it contains all the rarities of the seventeenth century ! from the time cauliflowers were first planted in England, trunk hose gave way to modern inexpressibles, judges began to wear wigs, and Peter the great went prentice to a ship carpenter. Act III] THE FINGER-POST &9 Mrs. P. And, pray, when were invisible girls in- vented r Kal. In the reign of queen Elizabeth, you could on- ly see a lady from Forehead to her chin ; but now no- thing is invisible but the petticoats. Mrs. P. Weil, sir, you may talk as you please; but I say enter a boy. Boy. — Sir, master can't get out of his gouty chair; and wants to speak to you at the door. Kal. That's lucky ; I shall the sooner get back to my job in the forest, {aside) Excuse me mrs. Prue.— Go along Dickey, {exit boy) I'll follow. Mrs. P. But, sir, I must say one word. Kal. I'll be back directly, but can't stop long : in the mean time, perhaps you may take a peep at the ^. planets; or, if you'd like to see my new conductor, you may step up to the top of the house, and treat yourself with a flash of lightning : and when I'm less busy, I'll show you every natural curiosity in my whole collection. [exit Kal, Mrs. P. I'll make bold to see one of 'em novv.~ No, no, I'll take no peep at the planets — my discoveries shall be of more importance, — But stop— the hussey wi;l deny she came to him, though its*plain enough why he wanted me out of the way : — he said he'd re- y turn — so, I'll just hide behind this curtain. — When he thinks me absent, miss will be let out ;— but I'll stop their tete a tete, I warrant, {goes into the recess-) where Kalendar had put his electrical chair) re-enter kalendmi. Kal. So! — one plague's got rid of; — and now to send off the other. — Eh ! gone ! — I didn't see her come out ; but I suppose she siipt by, when I was talking to the old gentleman. 40 FIVE MILES OFF, OR [Dibdiu Jenny. (. You — tickle me ! sir — I am so angry, s© choaked with passion V Act III] THE FINGER-POST 4i Kal. That you seem quite electrified. Jenny. Indeed, dear madam — I — Mrs. P. Out of my sight, you hussey !— Jenny. Oh ! I wish he'd stuff her into one of his great telegraphs. , [exit. Mrs. P. This is the gouty tax gatherer you came to, sir. Kal. No, it isn't. Mrs. P. What business had she in that closet ? Kal. To see what you were doing in that corner. Mrs. P. But my cousin shall know, and she shall leave the house directly. Kal. You're welcome to do the same; and next time you come here to make experiments, take care you don't get another curtain lecture. Mrs. P. Sir, if you had a single spark of good breed- ing Kal. If I had, I'd recommend him to you directly — but you have extinguished all my sparks, and I wish you much benefit from the operation. Mrs. P. I'll see the young hussey punished, that I Will, [exit. Kal. And I'll see the old woman safe out of the house. Egad, if every time I turn this handle, it produces such a sudden squali as it did just now, it will be un- safe to touch it : what between the old woman in the recess, and the young one in the closet, I was com- pletely galvanised ! [exiu scene, the entrance of a rustic inn. enter LAURA luckless, from the house. Laura. No, I can see nothing of him.-— I wish I had gone with him : what a misfortune it is to have a hus- band that's always unlucky. — I dare say this fine pro- mise in the newspapers, was only a trick, and he'll 'n w.i, blowing, young flow'rets were gay, Primroses we:e «rowin°, birds sung on each spiay, Bui sweeter sung my .rue love. f.:r sv. eeter to my ear, ' J'm waiting here tor you iove, 'us the spring time of the year.' In summer I yielded, my li ve's bride to be made, But js leaves droop 'n autumn, our joys too will fade, Fi r ove with ut riches is chul'd b\ the host, And ere winter, a a^ ! ab my pleasures were lost. enter sordid. Sord. Bless my heart ! bless my heart! five miles! why I do think I've traveli'd fifteen, and this is the first house I've met with ; — I can't have much farther to go. Oh ! there's a female, — young woman ! Laura. Young woman ! Sord. Well then, miss. Laura. Sir, I'm married. Sord. Why then, madam, do tell me how far it is to Harvest Hall. Laura. Its ten miles, sir, — and long ones too, if I may measure by the absence of my husband. Sord. Ten miles ! it was only five, three hours ago. Laura* Which way did you come, sir ? Sard. I came by the post. Laura. Then perhaps you have been mis-sent by a wrong direction. Sord. Mis-sent ! so I've walk'd off my legs, broke my appointment with old Fiail ; risk'd some of my property ; lost the rest, — and here comes the very man that robb'd me of it. Laura. Oh there he is ! my dear, dear fellow — I'll fly to meet him — I'm sure he's been lucky, for he's got a new coat already. [exit- Act 111] THE FINGER-POST 43 Sord. Oh ho ! she's a confederate — I'll get assist- ance from the house, recover my loss, get forty pounds for apprehending a highwayman, and that hussey's dear fellow shall be hanged. [exit into the house enter luckless and laura. Luck, to Robert. Give the horses a full feed, my lad, and we'll be back to your masters directly. Well ! my dear little Laura ! Laura, Well, Laurence — do tell me all. Luck. Directly ; I guess your impatience, and — did they give you any dinner in this devil of a dog hole ? Laura. If they had, I cou'dn't have eat it for anxi- ety. — Well, you went to the hall, and found — Luck. An old friend, a new coat, and a father I Laura. A father ! Luck. Aye, and a rich one too, you little rogue. Laura. A rich one ! well, I don't know how it was, but it always would run in my head, that you must have had a father, though you never found him out. sordid enters from the house . You see, sir, I have not deceived you— our common friend has enabled me to claim your promise. Flail. And do you mean to claim it on such grounds ? Kal. Such grounds would make a beautiful figure in an auctioneer's catalogue ; four prospects at one view — spacious enclosure— one head of live lamb, and a garden full of wall fruit ; and do you think he means to have all this trouble and expense for nothing ? Edw. At least, sir, I hope you will not give Mary to my rival ? Flail. Why, no ; I wont for two reasons ; in the first place, he's married already ; in the next, if you give proof of continuing so industrious, I Kal. Why, who the devil have we here, I wonder ? enter sordid and countrymen — he runs to flail, and stares about him while he shakes hands. Sord. My dear old friend—you'll bear me speak I'm sure— I've been so used, that — why this can't be the place where I hid my money, (aside) Flail. I don't wonder at your gazing about — I can hardly believe my own eyes. Kal. (to Edward) There's Mary, run and meet her. [exit Edw. 1^ 48 FIVE MILES OFF, OR Wibditi enter luckless and laura. "Luck, (to Flail) Ah, sir, we've met half way ; — here is the lady of whom I told you — and there is a crazy old man who accuses me of robbing him. (pointing to sordid, who is searching and peeping about for his money.) Flail. Shall I never teach youth to be respectful ; that cnzy old man is your father. Luck. Found at last, and in this place too ? Sord. Found, is it found f where is it ? give it me directly. Flail. Why that's your son, and that's his wife. Kal. And that seems to be the long and the short of it. Sord. I said it was my son — but married ' do come this way ? (Flail, Sordid, Luckless and Laura go up the stage) enter spRIGGins, with a dirty bundle from the house # Sprig, (to Kalendar) Here be a dirty bundle in a black handkerchief, kicking about among the rubbish — it do chink as th'of 'twere money. Sord. Give it me— its mine — its — Kal. (snatching it) No, its not your's ; whatever is found in that house belongs to its owner. Here Ed- ward, (Edward re-enters with Mary) you're lord of the manor; perhaps this is a prize for you. (Gives him the bundle-— Mary goes to her father — fenny enters and runs to Spriggins, who in dumb show, points to the new house, &c.) Sord. A prize indeed tis mine — tis money, mort- gages, and above all there are the writings and titles of his father's estate. Kal And where have the title deeds of a deceased father, a better right to be than in the hands of his son ? they were found under his roof Ait III\ THE FINGER-POST. Sord They were under no roof — when I buried them {aside) Luck Father seems to have brought a pretty ho; over his head Ed-zu Take your money, sir; these papers must be examined elsewhere Flail So, so ; he'll get his estate back {aside) Why Mary, what do you hang on me for I I know you'd rather take his arm by half; go Mary I obey you, sir, with pleasure Flail To be sure — see how I bring up my children Kal. Ah you always said she was a good girl Sprig {to jmny And what do you hang upon J for ? Jenny I hanging on you : why I'll be whipt it" he hasn't been a sweet hearting o' me as hard as ever he could ever since I came into the place Kal Come, let's into our new dwelling, and try to compromise. Sord But what's to be done with the m^.n who robb'd me ? Flail Done with him ? take hira to the village and lock him up : I'll make him leave off his roguish habits Luck And when he does leave off his habits, don't let it be w r here I may pick them up again Edw Among these papers is oue of no pecuniary worth, but to me a prize above them all Sord You may keep that — its of no use but to the owner {aside) Edte! f Fair Penitent, t Matrimuin, c. 0. 25 31 Dunlap 25 Holcrojt 18 St a) ke 25 Dunlap 25 Allingham 12 Boa den 25 Hoare 31 Cobb IS Adihgham 25 Caiman, jr. 18 Kenney 18 Dunlap 31 Dibdin 31 Cherry 31 Leivis 31 O'Keefe 12 Dimond,jr 12 Arnold 18 Tob/'n 31 O'Keeffe 18 Morton 12 Obher 31 Bickerstaffe 12 Hoare 12 Shak peare 31 Otxvay 25 Co/man. jr 31 Jej)hsou 12 R 'lie 25 Kenney 12 LIST OK PLAYS. i II Bondocani, c. o. B iud Liar gain, c. Fir&t Floor, v "loo maii> cuokS, c o. Famil) Quarrels, c. o. Will for the deed, C Venetian Outlaw, d. (trans.) Spoii'd Child, c. o. Valentine and Orson, M r d. S uIof's Daughter, c Piccolomini, h. d. (from Schiller) 'I empest, c. Duenna, c. o. Cheap living, c. Cabinet, c o. Quaker, c o Aiy grandmother, c. o. \\ auclerer, c \\ a\s and means c. Blue Beard, m. d r. {second edition) John Bull, c. R "up, c o C iravan, r d. Del iKjihiit, c. "\\ eathe cock, c. o. Lock and ke\ , c. o. Sc.ioo! for friends, c. Honest thieves, f. Antdrno, t Chjld of Nature, c. Paul and Virginia, m. E. S hool for Arrogance, c. Inkle and Yarico, c. o. M "uutainetrs, c. o. V\ il i oat-, c Road to ruin, c. Revenge, t. Dihdin \t Rtyn >lds 25 Cobb 18 Keimey 12 D-bdni 25 J Jib tin 18 Eliiston 25 Home 12 Dibdin 12 Cumberland 25 Coleridge 56 Shitkspeare ?l Slieiidan 31 Reynolds 25 Dibdin 25 Dibdin, sen. 12 Hoare 12 a gentleman of j\ . Y 37 Cotm>m,jr. 25 Col/nan, jr ' $ Colman,jr >l Bicker si.ajfe 12 Reynolds 1 2 Reynolds 25 J*()n»hum 12 Hot ne 18 Chambers 3 1 Knight 1 2 Godwin 25 J if hb ltd 19 Cobb 12 E f croft 31 C>iman,jr. 25 Co man jr 25 Ketffe 31 II dcrofi 25 Young 25. L ^ngs in Glory of Cot fOf Age lorn >rn»w e iVlore Ways lhan on**, LoJjlaugh atlockMnii C< m -ntrv Girl, c (alu D-ugias t Rule a vuf- and have a ingi-r Post Deserted Daughi< LIST OF LIBRARY OF CONGRESS \ if a PR 45^ J5F5 UBRARY OF CONGRESS 0U490 062 5