resolution?-Where are my clogs and my bonnet? I'll go out to my brother in the fields; I'm a fool, you know, child, now let's see what the wits will think of themselves-don't hold me— Luc. I'm not going; I have thought of a way to be even with you, so you may do as you please. SCENE V. HODGE. Well, I thought it would come to this, I'll be shot if I didn't-So here's a fine job-But what can they do to me-They can't send me to jail for carrying a letter, seeing there was no treason in it; and how was I obligated to know my master did not allow of their meetings.—The worst they can do, is to turn me off, and I am sure the place is no such great purchase-indeed, I should be sorry to leave Mrs. Rosetta, seeing as how matters are so near being brought to an end betwixt us; but she and I may keep company all as one; and I find Madge has been speaking with Gaffer Broad wheels, the wagoner, about her carriage up to London: so that I have got rid of she, and I am sure I have reason to be main glad of it, for she led me a wearisome life-But that's the way of them all. AIR. A plague on those wenches, they make such a pother, When once they have let'n a man have his will; They are always a-whining for something or other, And cry he's unkind in his carriage. What tho'f he speaks them ne'er so fairly, Still they keep teazing, teazing on: You cannot persuade 'em 'Till promise you've made 'em; Their character's blasted, they're ruin'd, undone; There is but one cure, Sir, SCENE VI-A Greenhouse. Enter YOUNG MEADOWS. Y. Mea. I am glad I had the precaution to bring this suit of clothes in my bundle, though I hardly know myself in them again, they appear so strange, and feel so unwieldy. However, my gardener's jacket goes on no more.-I wonder this girl does not come: [Looking at his watch.] perhaps she wont come- -Why then I'll go into the village, take a post-chaise, and depart without any further ceremony. AIR. How much superior beauty awes, To sense and sweetness join'd. The casket, where, to outward show, Is doubly valued, when we know Hark! she comes. SCENE VII. Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWs, and Haw THORN. Y. Mea. Confusion! my father! What can this mean? Sir W. Tom, are you not a sad boy, Tom, to bring me a hundred and forty miles here-May I never do an ill turn, but you deserve to have your head broke; and I have a good mind, part ly-What, sirrah, don't you think it worth your while to speak to me? Y. Mea. Forgive me, Sir; I own I have been in a fault. Sir W. In a fault! to run away from me because I was going to do you good-May I never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if I did not pick out as fine a girl for him, partly, as any in England; and the rascal run away from me, and came here, and turned gardener. And pray, what did you propose to yourself, Tom? I know you were always fond of Botany, as they call it; did you intend to keep the trade going, and advertise fruit-trees and flowering shrubs, to be had at Meadows's nursery? Haw. No, Sir William, I apprehend the young gentleman designed to lay by the profession; for he has quitted the habit already. Y. Mea. I am so astonished to see you here, Sir, that I don't know what to say; but I assure you, if you had not come, I should have returned home to you directly. Pray, Sir, how did you find me out? Sir W. No matter, Tom, no matter; it was partly by accident, as a body may say; but what does that signify-tell me, boy, how stands your stomach towards matrimony; do you think you could digest a wife now? Y. Mea. Pray, Sir, don't mention it: I shali always behave myself as a dutiful son ought: I will never marry without your consent, and I hope you wont force me to do it against my own. Sir W. Is not this mighty provoking, Master Hawthorn? Why, sirrah, did you ever see the lady I designed for you? Y. Mea. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's merit; but at present, I am not disposed— Haw. Nay, but young gentleman, fair and softly, you should pay some respect to your father in this matter. Sir W. Respect, Master Hawthorn! I tell you he shall marry her, or I'll disinherit him! there's once. Look you, Tom, not to make any more words of the matter, I have brought the lady here with me, and I'll see you contracted before we part; or you shall delve and plant cucumbers as long as you live. Y. Mea. Have you brought the lady here, Sir? I am sorry for it. Sir W. Why sorry? what then you wont marry her? we'll see that! Pray, Master Haw. thorn, conduct the fair one in.-Ay, Sir, you may fret, and dance about, trot at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, if you please, but marry whip me, I'm resolved. SCENE VIII. SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, YOUNG MEADOWS, and ROSETTA. Haw. Here is the lady, Sir William. Sir W. Come in, Madam, but turn your face from him-he would not marry you because he had not seen you: but I'll let him know my choice shall be his, and he shall consent to marry you, before he sees you, or not an acre of estate-Pray, Sir, walk this way. Y. Mea. Sir, I cannot help thinking your conduct a little extraordinary; but since you urge me so closely, I must tell you my affections are engaged. Sir W. How, Tom, how! Y. Mea. I was determined, Sir, to have got the better of my inclination, and never have done a thing which I knew would be disagreeable to you. Sir W. And pray, Sir, who are your affections engaged to? Let me know that. Y. Mea. To a person, Sir, whose rank and tortune may be no recommendations to her: but whose charms and accomplishments entitle her to a monarch. I am sorry, Sir, it's impossible for me to comply with your commands, and I hope you will not be offended if I quit your presence. Sir W. Not I, not in the least: go about your business. Y. Mea. Sir, I obey. Sir W. Give her to you! ay, that I do, and ty blessing into the bargain. Y. Mea. Then, Sir, I am the happiest man in the world; I inquire no farther; here I fix the ut most limits of my hopes and happiness. AIR. Y. Mea. All I wish in her obtaining, Ros. Ros. Here my faith and truth I plight, Constant still, and kind, and tender, May our flames burn ever bright. And, under favour, I'll salute you too, if there's Haw. Give you joy, Sir, and you, fair ladyno fear of jealousy. Y. Mea. And may I believe this ?-Prythee tell me, dear Rosetta. Ros. Step into the house and I'll tell you every thing I must entreat the good offices of Sir Wil [ROSETTA advances, YOUNG MEADOWs liam and Mr. Hawthorn, immediately; for I am turns round and sees her. AIR. Ros. When we see a lover languish, And his truth and honour prove, Sir W. Well, Tom, will you go away from me now. Haw. Perhaps, Sir William, your son does not ke the lady and if so, pray don't put a force upon his inclination. Y. Mea. You need not have taken this method, Sir, to let me see you are acquainted with my folly, whatever my inclinations are. Sir W. Well, but Tom, suppose I give my consent to your marrying this young woman. Y. Mea. Your consent, Sir! Ros. Come, Sir William, we have carried the jest far enough; I see your son is in a kind of embarrassment, and I don't wonder at it; but this letter which I received from him a few days be fore I left my father's house, will, I apprehend, expound the riddle. He cannot be surprised that I ran away from a gentleman who expressed so much dislike to me; and what has happened, since chance has brought us together in masquerade, there is no occasion for me to inform him of. Y. Mea. What is all this? Pray don't make a jest of me. Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, if it is not truth; this is my friend's daughter. Y. Mea. Sir! Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In short, you have not been a more whimsical gentleman than I have a gentlewoman; but you see we are designed for one another 'tis plain. Y. Mea. I know not, Madam, what I either hear or see; a thousand things are crowding on my imagination; while, like one just awakened from a dream, I doubt which is reality, which delusion. Sir W. Well then, Tom, come into the air a bit, and recover yourself. Y. Mea. Nay, dear Sir, have a little patience; do you give her to me? in the utmost uneasiness about my poor friend, Lucinda. Haw. Why, what's the matter? Ros. I don't know, but I have reason to fear I left her just now in very disagreeable circumstances; however, I hope, if there's any mischief fallen out between her father and her lover— Haw. The music-master! I thought so. Sir W. What, is there a lover in the case? May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, so I am; for we'll make a double wedding; and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to London, to show the brides some of the pleasures of the town. And, Master Hawthorn, you shall be of the party-Come children, go before us. Haw. Thank you, Sir William; I'll go into the house with you, and to church to see the young folks married; but as to London, I beg to be cused. AIR. ex JUSTICE WOODCOCK'S Hall. Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, MRS. DEBORAH WOODCOCK, LUCINDA, EUSTACE, and HODGE. Mrs. Deb. Why, brother, do you think I can't hear, or see, or make use of my senses? I tell you. I left that fellow locked up in her closet; and, while I have been with you, they have broke open the door, and got him out again. J. Wood. Well, you hear what they say. Mrs. Deb. I care not what they say; it's you encourage them in their impudence-Hark'e hussy, will you face me down that I did not lock the fellow up? Lac. Really, aunt, I don't know what you | vantages than I could reap from any imposition mean; when you talk intelligibly I'll answer you on your unsuspicious nature. Eust. Seriously, Madam, this is carrying the jest a little too far. Mrs. Deb. Well, brother, what have you to say for yourself now? You have made a precious Mrs Deb. What then, I did not catch you to-day's work of it! Had my advice been taken! gether in her chamber, nor overhear your design Oh I am ashamed of you, but you are a weak of going off to-night, nor find the bundles packed man, and it can't be helped: however, you should uplet wiser heads direct you. Eust. Ha, ha, ha! Luc. Why, aunt, you rave. Mrs. Deb. Brother, as I am a Christian woman, she confessed the whole affair to me from first to last; and in this very place was down upon her marrow bones for half an hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you. Hodge. Oh lord! oh lord! Mrs. Deb. What, sirrah, would you brazen me too! Take that. [Boxes him.] Hodge. I wish you would keep your hands to yourself; you strike me because you have been telling his worship stories. J. Wood. Why, sister, you are tipsy! Mrs. Deb. I tipsy, brother!--that never touch a drop of any thing strong from year's end to year's end; but now and then a little anies-seed water, when I have got the cholic. Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complaining of the stomach ache all day; and may have taken too powerful a dose of your cordial. J. Wood. Come, come, I see well enough how it is; this is a lie of her own invention, to make herself appear wise; but, you simpleton did you not know I must find you out? SCENE X. Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, ROSETTA, YOUNG MEADOWS. Y. Mea. Bless me, Sir! look who is yonder. Sir W. Cocksbones, Jack, honest Jack, are you there? Eust. Plague on't, this rencounter is unlucky -Sir William, your servant. Sir W. Your servant again, and again, heartily your servant; may I never do an ill turn, but I am glad to meet you. Luc. Dear papa, pardon me. Sir W. Ay, do, Sir, forgive her; my cousin Jack will make her a good husband, I'll answer for it. Ros. Stand out of the way, and let me speak two or three words to his worship.-Come, my dear Sir, though you refuse all the world, I am sure you can deny me nothing: love is a venial fault-You know what I mean.- -Be reconciled to your daughter, I conjure you, by the memory of our past affections-What, not a word! AIR. Go, naughty man, I can't abide you; What would have been my hopeful lot. But here I charge you-make them happy; Bless the fond pair, and crown their bliss: Come be a dear good natured pappy, And I'll reward you with a kiss. Mrs. Deb. Come, turn out of the house, and be thankful my brother does not hang you, for he could do it, he's a justice of peace;-turn out of the house, I say: J. Wood. Who gave you authority to turn him out of the house-he shall stay where he is. Mrs. Deb. He sha'nt marry my niece. J. Wood. Sha'nt he? but I'll show you the difference now, I say he shall marry her, ad what will you do about it? Mrs. Deb. And you will give him your estate too, will you? J. Wood. Yes, I will. Mrs. Deb. Why I'm sure he 's a vagabond. J. Wood. Pray, Sir William, are you acquaint-him a vagabond. ed with this person? Sir W. What, with Jack Eustace! why he's my kinsman: his mother and I were cousin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very worthy young fellow, may I never do an ill turn, if I tell a word of a lie. J. Wood. Well, but, Sir William, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter; this man is a music-master; a thrummer of wire, and a scraper of cat-gut, and teaches my daughter to sing. Sir W. What, Jack Eustace a music-master! no, no, I know him better. Eust. 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to carry on this absurd farce any longer;-What that gentleman tells you is very true, Sir; I am no music-master indeed. J. Wood. You are not, you own it then? Eust. Nay more, Sir, I am, as this lady has represented me. [Pointing to MRS. DEBORAH.] your daughter's lover; whom, with her own consent, I did intend to have carried off this night; but now that Sir William Meadows is here, to tell you who, and what I am, I throw myself upon your generosity, from which I expect greater adVOL. II....2 G 20* Mrs. Deb. Brother, brother! Haw. Come, come, Madam, all's very well, and I see my neighbour is what I always thought him, a man of sense and prudence. Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, but I say so too. J. Wood. Here, young fellow, take my daughter, and bless you both together; but hark you, no money till I die; observe that. Eust. Sir, in giving me your daughter, you be stow upon me more than the whole world would be without her. Ros. Dear Lucinda, if words could convey the transports of my heart upon this occasion Luc. Words are the tools of hypocrites, the pretenders to friendship; only let us resolve to preserve our esteem for each other. Y. Mea. Dear Jack, I little thought we should ever meet in such odd circumstances--but here has been the strangest business between this lady and me Hodge What then, Mrs. Rosetta, are you turned false-hearted, after all; will you marry Thomas the gardener; and did I forsake Madg for this? ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE: A FARCE, IN TWO ACTS. BY ISAAC JACKMAN. REMARKS. THIS laughable after-piece was first refused at Drury Lane; but the applause, bestowed at a benefit, induced the managers to purchase it as a stock-piece, a preference to which its merit fairly entitles it. Diggery's frenzy for converting his various avocations to the purposes of histrionic action, furnishes much drollery and an instructive lesson. The subordinate characters are well introduced; the testy country knight, angry with. the fouies of his servants, who are encouraged by his niece; the amorous old maid, his sister, duped by the young officer, whose friend marries Miss Kitty-all tend to the main purpose of the piece, and to show the extravagancies of a misunderstood dramatic mania. ACT I. SCENE I-An Inn at Shrewsbury. CHARLES STANLEY and HARRY STUKELY at breakfast. Har. Faith, Charles, I cannot think as you do on this subject. drummers, &c. &c. &c. and as to the rank and file, they are given to you in the lump; one hundred, or one thousand, just as it happens. Har. But their memories live for ever in the hearts of their countrymen.-How comes it, Charles, that with these sentiments you ever wore a cockade? Cha. I'll tell you:--whenever I receive the pay of my sovereign, and am honoured with the character of his trusty and well-beloved, I will faithfully, and I hope bravely, discharge the confidence he reposes in me. But, Harry, you have no serious objection to matrimony; if you have, we had better proceed no farther; our project has a period. Cha. I am sorry for it; but when you have served two or three campaigns more, take my word for it, Harry, you will have the same opinion of the army, that I entertain at this moment Har. 'Tis impossible; the army is the only profession, where a great soul can be completely gratified; after a glorious and well-fought field, Har. Not in the least, I assure you: I think the approbation of my sovereign, with the accla-myself capable of engaging in both the fields of mations of my brave untrymen, are rewards, love and war. I will marry, because it has its amply repaying whole years of service. Cha. True; but the honours we gather, very often adorn the head of a commander, who has been only an ear-witness to this well-fought field.' conveniences. Har. Ay, but every individual has his share. Cha Of the danger I grant you; and when a return is made of the killed, wounded, &c. you see in every newspaper a list of them in the fol-à-propos. lowing order: three captains, seven lieutenants, welve ensigns, killed: so many wounded; then comes in order, the sergeants, sergeant-maiors Cha. 'Egad, Harry, that speech puts me in mind of a letter I received from Miss Kitty Sprightly the fair ward of my uncle, Sir Gilbert |