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SYLVESTER DAGGERWOOD.

219

know, is to do away with old prejudices, and to rescue certain characters from the illiberal odium with which custom has marked them. Thus we have a generous Israelite, an amiable cynic, and so on. Now, sir, I call my play "The Humane Footpad." Dag. What?

Fus. There's a title for you! Is n't it happy? Eh! how do you like my "Footpad "?

Dag. Humph! I think he'll strike—but, then, he ought to be properly executed.

Fus. O, sir, let me alone for that. An exception to a general rule is the grand secret of dramatic composition. Mine is a freebooter of benevolence, and plunders with sentiment.

Dag. There may be something in that, and, for my part, I was always with Shakspeare- "Who steals my purse, steals trash." I never had any weighty reasons for thinking otherwise. Now, sir, as we say, please to “ leave off your horrible faces, and begin."

Fus. My horrible faces!

Dag. Come, we'll to 't like French falconers.
Fus. (Reading.) Scene first. . . .

Dag. A very awful beginning.

. . A dark wood, night.

Fus. (Reading.) The moon behind a cloud.

Dag. That's new. An audience never saw a moon behind a cloud before-but it will be very hard to paint.

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Fus. Don't interrupt; where was I?-O! behind a cloud.
Dag. "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces -
Fus. Hey, the deuce! What are you at?

Dag. Beg pardon; but that speech never comes into but it runs away with me.

Fus. Enter. (Reading.)

Proceed.

Dag. "The solemn temples."

Fus. Nay, then, I've done.

Dag. So have I. I'm dumb.

Fus. Enter Egbert, musing. (Reading.)
Dag. O. P.?*

Fus. Pshaw! what does that signify?

Dag. Not much.

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Fus. (Reading.) Egbert, musing. Clouded in night I comeDag. (Starting up.) "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples," &c. &c. &c.

Fus. (Gets up.) He's mad! a bedlamite! raves like a Lear, and foams out a folio of Shakspeare without drawing breath! I'm almost afraid to stop in the room with him.

*Stage initials for Opposite Prompter.

Enter SERVANT.

O! I'm glad you're come, friend! Now I shall be delivered; your master would be glad to see me, I warrant.

Servant. My master is just gone out, sir.

Fus. Gone out!

Dag. "O, day and night, but this is wondrous strange."

Fus. What! without seeing me, who have been waiting for him these three hours?

Dag. Three hours!

ings, in this old arm-chair.

1

pooh I've slept here these five morn

Fus. Pretty treatment! Pretty treatment, truly! to be kept here half the morning, kicking my heels in a manager's anteroom, shut up with a mad Dunstable actor.

Dag. Mad! Zounds, sir! I'd have you to know that "when the wind is northerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw." Fus. Tell your master, friend, tell your master, - but no matter; he don't catch me here again, that's all. I'll go home, turn my play into a pageant, put a triumphal procession at the end on 't, and bring it out at one of the winter theaters. (Exit.) Dag. Young man, you know me. I shall come to my old chair again to-morrow, but must go to Dunstable the day after, for a week, to finish my engagement. Wish for an interview inclination to tread the London boards, and so on. You remember my name- Mr. Sylvester Daggerwood, whose benefit is fixed for the eleventh of June, by particular desire of several persons of distinction.

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Serv. I shall be sure to tell him, sir.

Dag. "I find thee apt;

And duller wouldst thou be than the fat weed

That rots itself at ease on Le'the's wharf,

Wouldst thou not stir in this." Open the street door.

Go on! I'll follow thee.

COLMAN.

XII. PAUL PRY.

Enter DOUBLEDOT and SIMON, L.

Doubledot. Plague take Mr. Paul Pry! He is one of those idle, meddling fellows, who, having no employment themselves, are perpetually interfering in other people's affairs.

Simon. Ay, and he's inquisitive into all matters, great and

small.

Doub. Inquisitive! Why, he makes no scruple of questioning you respecting your most private concerns. Then he will weary you to death with a long story about a cramp in his leg, or the

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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.

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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." (Turn from him as if writing in memorandum book. SIMON advances.)

Pry. Ha, Simon! you here?

to be in a public house.

Rather early in the morning 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 say, 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's an uncommon fine leg of mutton the butcher has sent to your house. It weighs thirteen pounds five ounces.

Doub. And how do you know that?

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

answer.

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

Your tavern does n't

Pry. Good-morning, Mr. Doubledot.

appear to be very Doub. No, no.

full just now.

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 luck 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. 'Tis 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?

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Pry. Well, would you believe it? out pops a saffroncolored 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.)

GUSTAVUS AND CRISTIERN.

223

Doub. I'm rid of him at last, thank fortune! (PRY reënters.)

Well, what now?

Pry. I've dropped one of my gloves. odd here it is in my hand all the time!

Doub. Go to confusion!

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Now, that's very

(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 unbrella.

JOHN POOLE (altered).

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Enter GUSTAVUS, Right, CRISTIERN, Left.

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, O, then, supreme in mischief,

Thou 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,

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