Kitty, My dear father! I have been cheated | poem in praise of that virtue, which I beg leave and abused. to present to you, and hope you will receive it kindly. [Gives him the poem. Sir John. I hope your virtue is untouched? Kitty. That I will always preserve. Sir John. Then I forgive you any thing. how shall we be revenged on this scoundrel knight? But SCENE III.-Another Room. Enter SIR JOHN and the King, disguised as a collegiate. Sir John. No compliments, I tell ye, but come to the point: What is your business? King. As I appear to you in the habit of a collegiate, you may fancy I am some queer pedantic fellow; but I assure you, I am a person of some birth, and had a liberal education. I have seen the world, and kept the best company. But living a little too freely, and having spent the greatest part of my fortune on women and wine, I was persuaded, by a certain nobleman, to take orders, and he would give me a living, which he said was coming into his hands. I was just closing with the proposal, when the spiteful incumbent recovered, and I was disappointed. Sir John. Well, and what's all this to me. King. Why, sir, there is a living now fallen, which is in the king's gift, and I hear you have so good an interest with his majesty, that I am persuaded a word from you, in my favour, would be of great service to me. Sir John. And what must that word be, pray? King. Nay, that I leave to you. Sir John. Sir, I am not used to these things: I don't understand them at all; but let's see[SIR JOHN reads.] A poem in praise of the incomparable sincerity and uncommon honesty of the worthy Sir John Cockle,' &c. Enough, enough!--a poem in praise of sincerity, with a fulsome compliment in the very title, is extraordinary indeed! Sir, I am obliged to you for your kind intentions; your wit and your poetry may be very fine, for ought I know; but a little more common sense, I believe, could do you no harm. King. He is not to be flattered, I find; but I'll try what bribery will do. That, I'm afraid, hits every body's taste. [Aside.]-Shall I beg one word more with you? Sir, you are a gentleman of the greatest sincerity and honour I ever met with, and, for that reason, I shall always have the highest regard for you in the world, and for all that belongs to you. I hear your daughter is going to be married; let me beg leave to present her with this diamond buckle. Sir John. Sir, you surprise me very much; pray, what may the value of this be? King. That's not worth mentioning-about five hundred pounds, I believe. Sir John. Why, did not you tell me, just now, that you had spent all your fortune? King. I did so: but it was for a particular reason; and you shall find I am not so poor as I represented myself. I Sir John. I am glad of it. But, pray, how am to return this extraordinary generosity? King. I expect no return, sir, upon my ho our; though you have it in your power to oblige me very much. Sir John. Don't mention the living, for that I have told you already you are not fit for. King. I won't. But there is a certain place at court of another kind, which I have long had a mind to: 'Tis true, there is a sorry, insignificant fellow in possession of it at present; but he's of no service; and I know your power with the king; a word or two from you would soon dispossess him. Sir John. But what must he be dispossessed for? King. To make room for me, that's all. Sir John. You are in the right; and I'll tell you what it shall be. That you, being a senseless, idle-headed fellow, and having ruined your-me-here, take it again; and let me tell you, I self by your own folly and extravagance, you am not to be flattered into a foolish thing, nor therefore think yourself highly qualified to teach bribed into a base one. mankind their duty. Will that do? King. You are in jest, sir. Sir John. Upon my word, but I am in earnest. I think he that recommends a profligate wretch to the most serious function in life, merely for the sake of a joke, gives as bad a proof of his morals, as he does of his wit. King, Sir, I honour your plain-dealing. You exactly answer the character I have heard of your uncommon sincerity; and, to let you see that I am capable of something, I have wrote a King. [Discovering himself.] Then thou art my friend, and I will keep thee next my heart. Sir John. And is it your majesty. King. Be not surprised; it is your own maxim, that a king cannot be too cautious in trying those whom he designs to trust. Forgive this disguise-I have tried thy honesty, and will no longer suspect it. Enter GREENWOOD. Green. Sir, I am come to let Miss Kitty know privately, that my master will be here, disguised, immediately. Sir John. Will he? Well, go into the next room, a nd tell her so. If your majesty will be so good as to retire into this chamber a while, you will hear something, perhaps, that will divert you. Enter JOE. Joe. Sir, here's a maid-servant come to be hired. Sir John. Let her come in. I'll speak to her presently. [Exit with the King. Enter SIR TIMOTHY, disguised as a maid-servant. Sir Tim. Well, I am obliged to the dear girl for this kind contrivance of getting me into the house with her. 'Twill be charmingly convenient Re-enter SIR JOHN. Sir Tim. Sir, heard that the young lady, your daughter, wanted a servant, and I should be proud of the honour to serve her. Sir John. My daughter will be here presently. Pray, my dear, what's your name? Sir Tim. Faith, I never thought of that; what shall I say? [Aside.]-Betty, sir. Sir John. And pray, Mrs. Betty, who did you live with last? Sir Tim. Pox on his impertinence! he has non-plussed me again.-[Aside.] Sir, I-I-lived with Sir Timothy Flash. Sir John. Ah, a vile fellow that! a very vile fellow, was not he? Did he pay you your wages? Sir Tim. Yes, sir-I shall be even with you for this by and by. [Aside. Sir John. You was well off, then; for they its what he very seldom does. Sad pay!say I can tell you, one part of your business must be to watch that villain, that he does not debauch my daughter: for I hear he designs it. But I hope we shall prevent him. Sir Tim. I'll take care of her, sir, to be sureI burst with laughter to think how charmingly we shall gull the old fellow! Sir John. Kate! Enter Miss KITTY. [Aside. well. Hold up your head, child. O Lord! Mrs. Betty, you have got a beard, methinks. [Strokes her under the chin. Kitty. What! has Betty got a beard? Ha, ha, ha! Ah, Betty! why did not you shave closer? But I told ye you was a fool! Sir John. Well-and what wages do you expect, my dear? Kitty. Ay, what work do you design to do, my dear? Sir John. How cleverly you have bit the old fool, ha! him by and by, ha! Kitty. And how charmingly we shall laugh at Sir John. Now don't you think you a puppy? look like Kitty. Poor Sir Timothy ! are you disappointed, love? Come, don't be nangry, and I'll sing it a song. SONG. Ah, luckless knight! I mourn thy case: Kitty. Ha, ha, ha! Sir Tim. Zoons! am I to be used in this manner? And do you think I will bear it unrevenged? Kitty. And have you the impudence to think you are not well used? Sir John. Nay, nay, if he's not satisfied, instead of the entertainment he expected, suppose we give him what he deserves. Who's within, there? Enter three or four Servants, SIR TIMOTHY runs off, and they after him. Sir John. They'll overtake him; and I don't doubt but they'll give him the discipline he de serves. Enter King, GREENWOOD, and Courtiers. King. After what you have told me, I think they cannot use him too ill. Madam, I wish you joy of your escape from the ruin which threaten Here's a maid for you, Kate, if you like her. Kitty. Pray, child, what can you do? Sir Tim. I hope I shall, madam, if you please to try me. Kitty. No, I durst not try you, indeed, a fool. Sir John. Nay, my dear, don't abuse the young woman; upon my word, I think she looks mighty Kitty. The king! I thank your majesty. King. And I am glad to hear that you are reconciled to an honest man that deserves you. Kitty. I see my error; and I hope, by my future conduct, to make amends for the uneasiness I have given to so good a father. Sir John. My dear child, I am fully satisfied: and I hope thou wilt every day be more and more convinced, that the happiness of a wife does not consist in a title, or fine appearance of her husband, but in the worthiness of his sentiments, and the fondness of his heart. King. And now, my good old man, henceforth be thou my friend. I will give thee an apart-nest, and my affection to your majesty sincerement in my palace, that thou mayest always be but as to my abilities, alas! they are but small: near my person. And let me conjure thee ever yet, such as they are, if it clash not with my duty to preserve this honest, plain sincerity. Speak to the public, they shall always be at your mato me freely, and let me hear the voice of truth.jesty's service. If my people complain, convey their grievances faithfully to my ear; for how should kings redress those ills, which flatterers hide, or wicked men disguise? Sir John. I thank your majesty for the confidence you have in me: my heart, I know, is ho King. I'd have you just to both. But let your country's good be first your aim ; SCENE I-GAYLESS's lodgings. ACT I. Enter GAYLESS and SHARP. Shap. How, sir, shall you be married to-morrow! eh? I'm afraid you joke with your poor humble servant. Gay. I tell thee, Sharp, last night Melissa consented, and fixed to-morrow for the happy day. Sharp. 'Tis well she did, sir, or it might have been a dreadful one for us in our present condition: all your money spent; your moveables sold; your honour almost ruined, and your humble servant almost starved; we could not possibly have stood it two days longer-But if this young lady will marry you, and relieve us, o' my conscience I'll turn friend to the sex, rail no more at matrimony, but curse the whores, and think of a wife myself. | to rely on so great uncertainty as a fine lady's mercy and good-nature. Gay. I know her generous temper, and am almost persuaded to rely upon it. What! because I am poor, shall I abandon my honour? Sharp. Yes, you must, sir, or abandon me. So, pray, discharge one of us; for eat I must, and speedily too : and you know very well, that that honour of yours will neither introduce you to a great man's table, nor get me credit for a single beef-steak. Gay. What can I do? Sharp. Nothing, while honour sticks in your throat. Do, gulp, master, and down with it. Gay. Pr'ythee leave me to my thoughts. Sharp. Leave you! No, not in such bad company, I'll assure you. Why, you must certainly be a very great philosopher, sir, to moralize and Gay. And yet, Sharp, when I think how I have declaim so charmingly as you do, about honour imposed upon her, I am almost resolved to throw and conscience, when your doors are beset with myself at her feet, tell her the real situation of bailiffs, and not one single guinea in your pocket my affairs, ask her pardon, and implore her pity. to bribe the villains. Sharp. After marriage, with all my heart, sir; but don't let your conscience and honour so far get the better of your poverty and good sense, as Gay. Don't be witty, and give your advice, sirrah. Sharp. Do you be wise, and take it, sir. But, to be serious, you certainly have spent your fortune, and out-lived your credit, as your pockets and my belly can testify. Your father has disowned you; all your friends forsook you, except myself, who am starving with you. Now, sir, if you marry this young lady, who, as yet, thank Heaven, knows nothing of your misfortunes, and by that means procure a better fortune than that you have squandered away, make a good husband, and turn economist, you still may be happy, may still be sir William's heir, and the lady too no loser by the bargain. There's reason and argument, sir. Gay. Twas with that prospect I first made love to her; and, though my fortune has been ill spent, I have at least purchased discretion with it. Sharp. Pray, then, convince me of that, sir, and make no more objections to the marriage.You see I am reduced to my waistcoat already; and when necessity has undressed me from top to toe, she must begin with you, and then we shall be forced to keep house and die by inches. Look you, sir, if you won't resolve to take my advice, while you have one coat to your back, I must e'en take to my heels while I have strength to run, and something to cover me. So, sir, wishing you much comfort and consolation with your bare conscience, I am your most obedient and half-starved friend and servant. [Going. Gay. Hold, Sharp! You won't leave me? Sharp. I must eat, sir; by my honour and appetite, I must. Gay. Well, then, I am resolved to favour the cheat; and as I shall quite change my former course of life, happy may be the consequences: at least of this I am sure Sharp. That you can't be worse than you are at present. very persons who led me to my ruin, partook of my prosperity, and professed the greatest friendship. Sharp. [Without.]-Upon my word, Mrs. Kitty, my master's not at home. Kitty. [Without.]-Look'e, Sharp, I must and will see him. Gay. Ha! What do I hear? Melissa's maid; What has brought her here? My poverty has made her my enemy, too-She is certainly come with no good intent-No friendship there without fees-She's coming up stairs-What must I do? I'll get into this closet and listen. [Exit GAYLESS. Enter SHARP and KITTY. Kitty. I must know where he is; and will know, too, Mr. Impertinence. Sharp. Not of me ye won't.-[Aside.]-He's not within, I tell you, Mrs. Kitty; I don't know myself. Do you think I can conjure? Kitty. But I know you will lie abominably; therefore, don't trifle with me. I come from my mistress, Melissa: you know, I suppose, what's to be done to-morrow morning? Sharp. Ay; and to-morrow night too, girl. Kitty. Not if I can help it.-[Aside.]-But come, where is your master? For see him I must. Sharp. Pray, Mrs. Kitty, what's your opinion of this match between my master and your mistress? Kitty. Why, I have no opinion of it at all; and yet most of our wants will be relieved by it, too: for instance, now, your master will get a good fortune; that's what I'm afraid he wants: my mistress will get a husband; that's what she has wanted for some time; you will have the pleasure of my conversation, and I an opportuGay. [A knocking without].—Who's there?nity of breaking your head for your impertiSharp. Some of your former good friends, who favoured you with money at fifty per cent. and belped you to spend it, and are now become daily memento's to you of the folly of trusting rogues, following whores, and laughing at my advice. nence. Sharp. Madam, I am your most humble servant. But I'll tell you what, Mrs. Kitty, I am positively against the match: for was I man of iny master's fortune Gay. Oh, the devil, what a question was there! [Aside. Kitty. You'd marry if you could, and mend it Gay. Cease your impertinence! To the door!-Ha, ha, ha! Pray, Sharp, where does your If they are duns, tell them my marriage is now master's estate lie? certainly fixed; and persuade them still to forbear a few days longer, and keep my circumstances a secret, for their sakes as well as my own. Sharp. O never fear it, sir: they still have so much friendship for you, as not to desire your rain to their own disadvantage. Gay. And, do you hear, Sharp, if it should be any body from Melissa, say I ain not at home; lest the bad appearance we make here, should make them suspect something to our disadvantage. Sharp. I'll obey you, sir; but I am afraid they will easily discover the consumptive situation of our affairs, by my chop-fallen countenance. [Exit SHARP. Gay. These very rascals, who are now continually dunning and persecuting me, were the Sharp. Lie! Lie! Why, it lies--faith, I can't name any particular place; it lies in so many. His effects are divided, some here, some there; his steward hardly knows himself. Kitty. Scattered, scattered, I suppose. Bus hark'e, Sharp, what's become of your furniture? You seem to be a little bare here at present. Gay. What, has she found out that, too? |