RALPH

Why, Dobson; he may do what he will, and we will do what we list. A little instruction and practice will make us wicked enough, I dare warrant thee. Sha, Dobson; thy mind's upon nothing but dirt. It should be COVENTGARDEN; but it's much altered since I was here last. I could be content to have the tother sm cke at oh r Gillian the Dairy-maids sugarcandy— Kill me fi st, and then challenge me! for a kiss or two! nay, good Dobsox; she has lips big enough to serve us both. Prithee lets not fallen oh to and Beatrice one another: these people would but laugh at us for't. I scarce think they are all of one Parish, neither do they go to one Church. They come only for and eve ning recreation oh S e COVENTGARDEN. And a God y one too if rumour lie not. I think mews for hawks, or airings for gen tles. Other hawks are not here in any request. I hope so: we shall then be n ere the Cock-p to, and see a Play now and then. No, Dobson; they are men of credit, whose acti ons are beheld by every one, and allowed for the most partly with commendations. They make no yearly Progress with the Anatomy of a S mpter-horse, laden with the sweepings of Long-lane in a dead Vacation, and purchased at the exchange of their own whole Wardrobes. They buy not their Ordinary for the Copy of a Prologue; nor insinuate themselves into the acquaintance of and admiring Ningle, who for his free coming in, is at the expense of a Tavern Supper, and rinses their bawling throats with Canary. The duller Ass though . Nay, prithee fellow Dobson; if we abuse our selves sometime, it'll be the better taken when we a b see others. You wish and impossibility, unless the Pillory were more terrible. But it's a dangerous way through a Scriveners conscience. Had he but cares then, he might make a very good Puritan horse. But their doing sometime, begets a hotter zeal in the Sisterhood. Pray Master, know you hereabout any conve nient Lodgings? Which is not usual backwards. What if it be not in my Commission to tell you? But I must not tell you, till I have a mind to . You may be the agent to and Informer: do you not cor respond with the Summer and Apparitour, to keep your self off some deserved punishment. Not unlikely, I have herd there are many such in Coventgarden. If a downright Country thing will please you. This interest then, and— Why then you must seek you a more proporti oned Schoolmaster to enter you farther, and teach you my Master's name. The Wine stays, and I want it. What again! Fare you well, I have forgotten it. I rather think he shall have her that pleases her best, else I shall doubt her for a woman. But how can S e concern our goods? your instance. A Woman's word! it's not worth and ounce of feathers. Beside, you may be under covert bairn. Have you not a Husband? What's his profession? His word may be taken in the term for a gown-facing or so: but to do any man good, is worth a double fee, if he perform it. Mistress, if you must know my Ma sters name, go to Carterton in the County of Sussex, and there in the Church-Register you shall find, that Roger the son of Roland Dungworth of Dirtall Farm in the Parish of Carterton aforesaid, was baptised—But stay, I'll know first if he be resolved to continue a Christian; it's ordinary to change names with religion. Beside, he means to be a Knight; and Dungworth will stink in the de licate nostrils of a Lady: it may make the heraul S give him a mock-coat with three kennell-rakers. Farewell sweet Mistress, and if my Master chance to lie at your house, I should be glad if I might lie over your Daughter. This is the virtue of Sack boy. Who would toil in dirt for whay and buttermilk, or the windy juice of Pome-waters upon Sundays? Now could I be as valiant as—nothing. I could take the wall of three times three Tay lors, though in the morning, and at a Bakers stall. If I should throw down three or four posts. What then! why, I would not stay to take them up. Give me and armour of Sack; I am shot-free. What say you pretty pair of Wagtails? do you want Play-mates? Within doors, or without? We see something, but they may as well be flocks. How are we sure they are Cowards? To kill them and not hurt them? Call upon Sack, Dobson: I begin to be afraid. I can perceive his sword; he shakes it fearfully. Sirrah, thou man of fear and trembling. Call upon Sack, Dobson. Not so gentle neither. We are fiery furious, and command thee in the name of Sack, resign thy uvea Pon, and submit to be corrected by our valour. A handsome beating shall assuage our fury. Our mercy may be brought to a composition. But should we be pitiful, could you be content, since you cannot fight in your own defence, to lie in our defence. That we did Beatrice you? Depart then, and praise us. Sirrah, you Rascal. Then thou abuser of wit and good clothes, be mannerly, and uncover to thy betters. We will be satisfied with a small diminution of your plentiful Wardrobe. We know you have more Cloaks and Beavers at home. Why then thank our mercy and depart, while we Like honest thieves share our booty. And many a one is hanged for it. Not much of the gallows without a hangman. For women and children let me alone: if I fallen upon the one, I'll soon get the other. Without his staff of authority, or a fortifica cion of Sack. A Constable may be valiant when he come mands others what he cannot do himself. He hath never a sword. Sirrah, thou man of presumption, that hast profaned our incomparable valour, redeem thy forfeited life of our mercy with some gold or silver pictures out of thy silken pockets. He looks terribly Dobson. Call upon Sack. Mere Country Animals. We have valour to steal a Maypole, or rob the Parson S Hens-nest: but to kill a man as far from our intents or daring, as pity from and Executioner, or bashfulness from a Jingo. With all our hearts: we had rather any body should have them, then the hangman both them and us for them. Come Dobson, we have God the money yet; and a little sack will animate us again. My soul's under foot; I must raise it: But if ever I quarrel again by Moon shine unless I am drunk, valour forsake me. It's a fine Chamber, it shines Like a Goldsmiths shop in Cheapside. Yes; for we rid Like mad men. No Dobson, they be of all tribes. Some are Jews, and some are Gentiles. Some are noble both in blood and condition, and some in neither. Some study Arts of use; some of delight; some conceive well, but talk wickedly. Some wear Plush that others pay for. Some love Sack, and some love wenches. Few will die of the Alderman's Gout, and some will never be cured of their own— Tut man; I lived in London before now; was servant to one that conversed much with the wits, and kept and Academy of Music. I tell thee Dobson, I have picked up more e learning among the crumbs of a broken biscuit, after one of their meetings at a Tavern, then would make twenty Ballad-makers commence Po tasters; and with the overplus indoctrinate ten Justices Clerks, and and undersheriff. And make a leg. This Vintner sure hath had very mannerly breeding. he came not from the Banks side, where the surly Watermen live. Mr. Littleword and Mris Tongall! very good. Sure this woman had a Frenchman to her Father. Mistress, you said I should have your daughter. Who then shall my Master have? A right woman: so her tongue go, no mat ter what she says. Else we loose both our share of the Sack, and our Hope's of her daughter Iinny. It's for us, Dobson. You are welcome Sir, and I pray be gone. I tell you Constable, there are none here, but can break the peace, as well as you that are a Con stable. But they may suffer us, and that's a word for hanging. Well, it's a rare thing to be a Justice. Were I but swelled with a little authority, me thinks I could cry, you Rogue, you Rascal, or you Constable, most gravely. Then if I fit you not for a Justice. Can you write and read young gentleman? Then you shall be my Worships Clerk. And so I assume authority. (hem, hem) (hem, hem,) what are you sirrah? You were the Constable; but your dignity is justly taken from you, and conferred upon honest John Dobson. Thou hast been a rascal sirrah, a corrupt Con stable. Thou hast conversed with deeds of darkness, would ting the all light, but wenches and a lanthorn: which a married Constable can never want at midnight. Thou hast watched little and prayed less: thou shalt therefore fast thy self into amendment. And so I commit thee with thy guard of Bill-men to the mercy of a Shrove-tuesdays rebellion. (hem, hem.) N w Sir, what are you? O, I know you sirrah. You write true Latin, not to be understood by the Wor shipfull bench. Make his Mittimus and send him to school; (hem, hem,) what are you Sir? You are a Malki of mock-Gentry; made up of silk and vainglory. You begin to grow out of fa shion. I will therefore have you stitched into a case of come plements, and commended to some thrifty housekeeping Lady in the Country, where you may save her Ladyship the charge of a Tailor; and if you can read, serve for a house-chaplain in rainy weather. (hem, hem.) Bring that Country Gentleman before me. You are a Country Gentleman; a Gallant out of fashion all the year; but especially at See zions, and upon high Holidays, when your satin doublet draws away the eyes of the simple, and distracts their devoti on almost into Idolatry: giving it more worship then the Heralds ever gave your Ancestors. You intend as I understand to come forth in a new Edition: and when the Mercers and Tailors have new printed you; and that some gentile wit may be read in your Character to marry a Wife in the City. You shall then have a pass sealed up on her by a Courtier; be ship't at Cuckolds haven, and so transported into Cornwall. (Hem, hem.) Now Sir, what are you? never a wise word to answer a Ju stice? There is a tempest in her tongue able to shake the foundation of the wisest Justiceship. Madame, I have herd complaints of your La diship, that you rise early every morning before noon, and are ready before night, unless there be a mask at Court. You are likewise a great frequenter of the balls, merely out of charity to the poor Fiddlers. Stop your ears Gentlewomen, here's a foul business towards. But you may tell the man, the time and place, though not the manner. Give it me; I'll keep it. Many a Justi in the City keeps children are none of his own. (Drinks.) And now for you Gentlemen. You are of the wits that give Poets Sack and old Beavers, and vent their conceits in Taverns for your own. How's that! a Justice take bribes! the exam ple is too frequent, and I will have it mended. Bribes have purchased more then the whole raze of A dermen since Luds time. It's time indeed, when I will not take bribes to be a Justice Quondam. Why then forward: call upon sack, Dobson, sack. No interruptions. Some break jests; some break pates; some break Tailors; and some break their fasts with Duke Humphrey. Why dost thou tremble so Dobson? I dare be whipped if these be not some kin to the Gentle woman that sent us hither from the thing at yonder house.