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loss of a sleeve-button, or some such idle matter. And so he passes his days, “ dropping in," as he calls it, from house to house at the most unreasonable times, to the annoyance of every family in the village. But I 'll soon get rid of him.

Enter PRY, L., with umbrella, which he places against the wall. Pry. Ha! how d' ye do, Mr. Doubledot? Doub. Very busy, Mr. Pry, and have scarcely time to say

Pretty well, thank ye.” (Turns from him as if writing in memorandum book. Simon advances.).

Pry. Ha, Simon! you here? Rather early in the morning to be in a public house. Been taking a horn, eh? Sent here with a message

from your master, perhaps ? I say, Simon, when this wedding takes place, I suppose your master will put you all into new liveries, eh? Simon. Can't


sir. Pry. Well, I think he might. (Touches Simon's sleeve.) Between ourselves, Simon, it won't be before you want 'em, eh?

Simon. That's master's business, sir, and neither yours nor mine.

Pry. Mr. Simon, behave yourself, or I shall complain of you to the colonel. By the way, Simon, that is an uncommon fine leg of mutton the butcher has sent to your house. It weighs thirteen pounds five ounces. Doub. And how do


know that? Pry. I asked the butcher. I say, Simon, is it for roasting or boiling?

Simon. Half and half, with the chill taken off. There's your answer.

(Exit Simon, R.) Pry. That 's an uncommon ill-behaved servant! Well, since you say you are busy, I won't interrupt you; only, as I was passing, I thought I might as well drop in.

Doub. Then you may now drop out again. The London coach will be in presently, and

Pry. No passengers by it to-day, for I have been to the hill to look for it.

Doub. Did you expect any one by it, that you were so anxious ?

Pry. No; but I make it my business to see the coach come in every day. I can't bear to be idle.

Doub. Useful occupation, truly !
Pry. Always see it go out; have done so these ten years.

Doub. (Going up.) Tiresome blockhead! Well; good-morning to you.

Pry. Good-morning, Mr. Doubledot. Your tavern doesn't appear to be very full just now.

Doub. No, no. I

Pry. Ha! you are at a heavy rent? (Pauses for an answer : after each question.) I've often thought of that. No supporting such an establishment without a deal of custom. If it's not an impertinent question, don't you find it rather a hard matter to make both ends meet when Christmas comes round?

Doub. If it is n't asking an impertinent question, what's that to you?

Pry. O, nothing; only some folks have the luek of it: they have just taken in a nobleman's family at the opposition house, the Green Dragon.

Doub. What's that? A nobleman at the Green Dragon !

Pry. Traveling carriage and four. Three servants on the dickey and an outrider, all in blue liveries. They dine and stop all night. A pretty bill there will be to-morrow, for the servants are not on board wages.

Doub. Plague take the Green Dragon! How did you discover that they are not on board wages ?

Pry. I was curious to know, and asked one of them. You know I never miss any thing for want of asking. T is no fault of mine that the nabob is not here, at your house.

Doub. Why, what had you to do with it?

Pry. You know I never forget my friends. I stopped the carriage as it was coming down the hill — brought it to a dead stop, and said that if his lordship - I took him for a lord at once

that if his lordship intended to make any stay, he could n't do better than go to Doubledot's.

Doub. Well ?

Pry. Well, — would you believe it? — out. pops a saffron, colored face from the carriage window, and says, “ You ’re an impudent rascal for stopping my carriage, and I'll not go to Doubledot's, if there 's another inn to be found within ten miles of it!"

Doub. There, that comes of your confounded meddling! If you had not interfered I should have stood an equal chance with the Green Dragon.

Pry. I'm very sorry; but I did it for the best.

Doub. Did it for the best, indeed! Deuce take you! By your officious attempts to serve, you do more mischief in the neighborhood than the exciseman, the apothecary, and the attorney, all together.

Pry. Well, there's gratitude! Now, really, I must go. Goodmorning.

(Exit Paul Pry.)



Doub. I'm rid of him at last, thank fortune! (Pey reënters.) Well, what now?

Pry. I've dropped one of my gloves. Now, that's very odd - here it is in my hand all the time! Doub. Go to confusion !

(Exit). ! · Pry. Come, that 's civil ! If I were the least of a bore, now, it would be pardonable-but-Hullo! There's the postman! I wonder whether the Parkins's have got letters again to-day. They have had letters every day this week, and I can't for the life of me think what they can — (Feels hastily in his pockets.) By the way, talking of letters, here's one I took from the postman last week for the colonel's daughter, Miss Eliza, and I have always forgotten to give it to her. I dare say it is not of much importance. (Peeps into it --- reads.) "Likelyunexpected — affectionate.” I can't make it out.

No matter ; I'll contrive to take it to the house — though I've a deal to do to-day. (Runs off and returns.) Dear me! I had like to have gone without my umbrella.

JOHN POOLE (altered).


Cristiern. How now, Gustavus ? An insurgent? Thou ?
In arms against me — me, thy lawful king ?
Hast counted well the chances ? Are the lives
Of my misguided people held so light
That thus thou 'dst push them on the keen rebuke
Of guarded majesty; where justice waits,
All awful and resistless, to assert
The impervious rights, the sanctitude of kings,
And blast rebellion!

Gustavus. Justice, sanctitude,
And rights ! O, patience! Rights! what rights, thou tyrant ?
Yes, if perdition be the rule of power,
If wrongs give right, 0, then, supreme in mischief,
Thoù wert the lord, the monarch of the world,
Too narrow for thy claim! But if thou think'st
That crowns are vilely propertied, like coin,
To be the means, the specialty of lust,
And sensual attribution; if thou think'st
That empire is of titled birth or blood;
That nature, in the proud behalf of one,
Shall disenfranchise all her lordly race,

And bow her general issue to the yoke
Of private domination; then, thou proud one,
Here know me for thy king. Howe'er, be told,
Not claim hereditary, not the trust
Of frank election;
Not even the high anointing hand of Heaven,
Can authorize oppression, give a law
For lawless power, wed faith to violation,
On reason build misrule, or justly bind
Allegiance to injustice. Tyranny
Absolves all faith ; and who invades our rights,
Howe'er his own commence, can never be
But a usurper. But for thee — for thee
There is no name. Thou hast abjured mankind,
Dashed safety from thy bleak, unsocial side,
And waged wild war with universal nature.

Cris. Licentious traitor! thou canst talk it largely.
Who made thee umpire of the rights of kings
And power, prime attribute as on thy tongue
The poise of battle lay, and arms of force,
To throw defiance in the front of duty ?
Look round, unruly boy! Thy battle comes
Like raw, disjointed mustering, feeble wrath,
A war of waters, borne against the rock
Of our firm continent, to fume, and chafe,
And shiver in the toil.

Gus. Mistaken man!
I come empowered and strengthened in thy weakness;
For though the structure of a tyrant's throne
Rise on the necks of half the suffering world,
Fear trembles in the cem'ent; prayers, and tears,
And secret curses, sap its mouldering base,
And steal the pillars of allegiance from it;
Then let a single arm but dare the sway,
Headlong it turns and drives upon destruction.

Cris. Profane, and alien to the love of Heaven !
Art thou still hardened to the wrath divine,
That hangs o'er thy rebellion ? Know'st thou not
Thou art at enmity with grace, cast out,
Made an anath'ema, a curse enrolled
Among the faithful, thou and thy adherents
Shorn from our holy church, and offered up
As sacred to perdition ?

Gus. Yes, I know,

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When such as thou, with sacrilegious hand,
Seize on the apostolic key of heaven,
It then becomes a tool for crafty knaves
To shut out virtue, and unfold those gates
That Heaven itself had barred against the lusts
Of avarice and ambition. Soft and sweet,
As looks of charity, or voice of lambs
That bleat upon the mountains, are the words
Of Christian meekness! mission all divine !
The law of love sole mandate.

Cris. No more of this !
Gustavus, wouldst thou yet return to grace,
And hold thy motions in the sphere of duty,
Acceptance might be found.

Gus. Imperial spoiler!
Give me my father, give me back my kindred,
Give me the fathers of ten thousand orphans,
Give me the sons in whom thy ruthless sword
Has left our widows childless! Mine they were,
Both mine, and every Swede's, whose patriot breast
Bleeds in his country's woundings. O, thou canst not,
Thou hast outsinned all reckoning! Give me, then,
My all that's left my gentle mother, there,
And spare yon little trembler !

Cris. Yes, on terms
Of compact and submission.

Gus. Ha! with thee?
Compact with thee? and mean'st thou for my country,
Compact, submission, thraldom, for my country, -
For Sweden? No! So hold my heart but firm,
Although it wring for 't, though blood drop for tears,
And at the sight my straining eyes start forth -
All of my kin that's left shall perish first !

BROOKE (altered).

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Characters. — SWIPES, a brewer ; CURRIE, a saddler; FRANK MILLINGTON,


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

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

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