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Sca. Why faith, madam, I'm never shy to my friends: my business is, in short, like that of all other men of business, diligently contriving how to play the knave, and cheat to get an honest livelihood.

Cla. Certainly men of wit and parts need

never be driven to indirect courses.


Sca. Oh, madam! wit and honesty, like oil and vinegar, with much ado mingle together, give a relish to a good fortune, and pass Cough far sauce, but are very thin fare of themselves. No, give me your knave, your thoroughpaced knave; hang his wit, so he be but rogue enough.

Luc. You're grown very much out of humour with wit, Scapin; I hope your's has done you no prejudice of late?

Sca. No madam; your men of wit are good for nothing, dull, lazy, restive snails; 'tis your undertaking, impudent, pushing fool, that commands his fortune.

Cia. You are very open and plain in this proceeding, whatever you are in others.

Sra. Dame Fortune, like most others of the female sex (I speak all this with respect to your ladystup), is generally most indulgent to the ninible mettled blockheads; men of wit are not for her turn, ever too thoughtful when they should be active: Why, who believes any man of wit to have so much as courage? No, ladies, it yo've any friends that hope to raise themselves, advise them to be as much fools as they can, and they'll never want patrons: and for honesty, if your ladyship think fit to retire a little farther, you shall see me perform upon a gentleman that's coming this way.

Cia. Prithee, Lucia, let us retreat a little, and take this opportunity of some divertisement, which has been very scarce here hitherto. Enter SHIFT, with a Sack.

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Oh, sir, sir, shift for yourself! quickly sir! quickly sir! for Heaven's sake!

Gripe. What's the matter, man?

Sca. Heaven! is this a time to ask questions? Will you be murdered instantly? I am afraid you will be killed within these two minutes! Gripe. Mercy on me! killed! for what?

Sca. They are every way looking out for you.
Gripe. Who? who?

Sca. The brother of her whom your son has married; he's a captain of a privateer, who has all sorts of rogues, English, Scotch, Welch, Irish, French, under his command, and all lying because you would null the marriage: they run in wait now, or searching for you to kill you


and down crying, Where is the rogue Gripe? Where is the dog? Where is the slave Gripe? They watch for you so narrowly, that there's no getting home to your house.

will become of me? Gripe. Oh, Scapin! what shall I do? What

Sca. Nay, Heaven knows; but, if you come will tear you in pieces! Hark! within their reach, they will De Wit y you; they

Gripe. O Lord!

Sca. Hum! 'tis none of them.

Gripe. Canst thou find no way for my escape,

dear Scapin.

Sca. I think I have found one.

Gripe. Good Scapin, show thyself a man, now. Sca. I shall venture being most immoderately beaten.

bounteously: I'll give the this suit, when I have Gripe. Dear Scapin, do: I will reward thee worn it eight or nine months longer.

Sca. Listen! who are these?

Gripe, God forgive me! Lord have mercy

upon us!

Sca. No, there's nobody: Look, if you'll save your life, go into this sack presently.

Gripe. Oh! who's there?

whatever happens: I'll carry you as a bundle Sca. Nobody: Get into the sack, and stir not, of goods, through all your enemies, to the major's

house of the castle.

Gripe. An admirable invention ! Oh! Lord! quick. [Gets into the sack. Sca. Yes, 'tis an excellent invention, if you knew all. Keep in your head, Oh, here's a rogue coming to look for you!

SCAPIN counterfeits a Welshman.

Do you hear, I pray you? Where is Leander's father, took you?


In his own voice.

How should I know? what would you have with him?-Lie close. [Aside to GRIPE, Have with him! look you, hur has no creat pus'ness, but hur would have satisfactions and reparations, look you, for credit and honours; by St. Tavy, he shall not put the injuries and affronts upon my captains, look you now, sir. He affront the captain! he meddles with no


You lie, sir, look you, and hur will give you beatings and chastisements, for your contradictions, when hur Welse plood is up, look you, and hur will cudgel your pack and your nootles for it; take you that now. [Beats the sack. Hold, hold; will you murder me? I know not where he is, not I.

Hur will teach saucy jacks how they provoke hur Welse ploods and hur collars: and for the old rogue, hur will have his guts and his plood, look you, sir, or hur will never wear leak upon St. Tavy's day more, look you.

On! he has mauled me! a damned Welsh


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Now, the Devil take me, I swear by him that made me, if thou dost not tell where is Gripe, but I will beat thy father's child very much indeed!

What would you have me do? I cannot tell where he is. But what would you have with him?

What would I have with him? By my shoul, if I do see him, I will make murder upon him for my captain's sake.

Murder him? he'll not be murdered.

If I do lay my eyes upon him, gad I will put my sword into his bowels, the devil take me indeed. What hast thou in that sack, joy? By my salvation, I will look into it. But shall not. you

Gripe. You! the blows fell upon my shoul-it. ders. Oh !

Sca. 'Twas only the end of the stick fell on you; the main substantial part of the cudgel lighted on me.

Gripe. Why did you not stand further off?
Sca. Peace-Here's another rogue.

In a Lancashire dialect.

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Why, Imun knock him down with my kibbo, the first bawt to the grawnt, and then I mun beat him to pap, by th' mess, and after ay mun cut off the lugs and naes on 'em, and ay wot, he'll be a pretty swatley fellce, baat lugs and naes. Why, truly sir, I know not where he is; but he went dowu that Lane.

This lone, saun ye? Ays find him, by'r lady, an he be above grawnt.

So, he's gone; a damned Lancashire rascal! Gripe. Oh! good Scapin! go on quickly. [GRIPE pops in his head.

Sca. Hold; here's another.

What have you to do with

By my soul, joy, I will put my rapier into it! Gripe. Oh! oh!

What, it does grunt, by my salvation, the devil take me, I will see it indeed.

You shall not sce my sack; I'll defend it with my life.

Then I will make beat upon thy body; take that, joy, and that, and that, upon my shoul, and so I do take my leave, joy.

[Beats him in the sack. A plague on him,he's gone; he has almost kill

ed me.

Gripe. I can hold no longer the blows all fell upon my shoulders.

Sca. You can't tell me; they fell on mine: oh my shoulders.

Gripe. Your's? Oh my shoulders.
Sca. Peace! they're coming.

In a hoarse Seaman's voice.

Where is the dog? I'll lay him on fore and aft, swinge him with a cat-o'-nine tail, keel haul and then hang him at the main yard.

In broken French English.

If there be no more men in England, I vill kill him; I vill put my rapier in his body. I vill give him two tree pushe in de gutte.

Here SCAPIN acts a number of them together.

We must go this way-'o the right hand ? no to th' left hand-lie close-search every where— by my salvation, I will kill the damned dog-and we do catch 'em, we'll tear 'em in pieces, and I do hear he went thick way-no, straight for ward. Hold, here is his man; where is your master-Damn me, where ? In hell? Speak

Hold, not so furiously--and you don't tell us
where he is, we'll murder thee-

Do what you will, gentlemen I know not.
Lay him on thick; thwack him soundly.
Hold, hold; do what you will, I will ne'er betray

my master.

Knock 'en down; beat 'en soundly; to'en, at 'en, at 'en, at

[As he is going to strike, GRIPE peeps out, and SCAPIN takes to his heels. Gripe. Oh, dog, traitor, villain! Is this your plot? Would you have murdered me, rogue? Unheard of impudence!


Oh, brother Thrifty! You come to see the loaden with disgrace; the villain Scapin has, as I am sensible now, cheated ine of 2001. This beating brings all into my memory.

Tarifly. The impudent varlet has gulled me of the same suin.

my father, and all our fears and troubles are at an end.

Thrifty. Lo ye now, you would be wiser than the father that begot you, would you? Did not I always say you should marry Mr. Gripe's daughter? But you do not know your sister Luce.

Oct. Unlooked for blessing! Why, she's my friend Leander's wife?

Thrifty. Ilow? Leander's wife!
Gripe. What! my son Leander?
Oct. Yes, sir; your son Leander.

Gripe. Indeed! Well, brother Thrifty, 'tis true the boy was always a good-natured boy.Well, now am so overjoyed, that I could laugh till I shook my shoulders, but that I dare not, they are so sore. But look, here he comes.


Lean. Sir, I beg your pardon; I find my marriage is discovered; nor would I, indeed, have longer concealed it; this is my wife, I must own her.

Gripe. Brother Thrifty, did you ever see the like? did you ever see the like? ba!

Thrifty. Own her, quotha! Why, kiss her,

Gripe. Nor was he content to take my money, but has abused me at that barbarous rate, that I am ashamed to tell it; but he shall pay for it suverely. Thrifty. But this is not all, brother; one mis-kiss her, man; odsbodikins, when I was a young fortune is the forerunner of another: Just now fellow, and was first married, I did nothing else I have received letters from London, that both for three months. our daughters have run away from their goverDesses, with two wild debauched young fellows, that they fell in love with.

Enter LUCIA and CLARA.

Luc. Was ever so malicious impudence seen? Ha! Surely, if I mistake not, that should be my father.

Cla. And the other mine, whom Scapin has used thus.

Luc. Bless us! returned, and we not know of it?

Cla. What will they say to find us here?
Luc. My dearest father, welcome to England.
Thrifty. My daughter Luce?
Luc. The same, sir.
Gripe. My Clara here, too?

Cla. Yes, sir; and happy to see your safe ar


Thrifty. What strange destiny has directed this happiness to us?

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Gripe. Hey-day!

Thrifty. Oh, so! I have a wife for you.
Oct. Good father, all your propositions are
in; I must needs be free, and tell you I am

Thrifty. Look you now: is not this very fine? Now I have a mind to be merry, and to be friends with you, you'll not let me now, will you? I tell you, Mr. Gripe's daughter, here

Oct. I'll never marry Mr. Gripe's daughter, sir, as long as I live: No, yonder she is, that I must love, and can never entertain the thoughts of any other.

Clu. Yes, Octavian, I have at last met withi

Gripe. Well, 'tis his father's nown child. Just so, brother, was it with me upon my weddingday; I could not look upon my dear without blushing; but when we were a-bed, Lord ha' mercy upon us!--but I'll no more.

Lean. Is, then, my father reconciled to me? Gripe. Reconciled to thee! Why, I love thee at my heart, man, at my heart; why, 'tis my brother Thrifty's daughter, Mrs. Lucy, whom I always designed for thy wife; and that's thy sister Clara, married to Mr. Octa, there.

Lean. Octavian, are we then brothers? There is nothing that I could have rather wished, after compleating of my happiness with my charming


Thrifty. Come, sir, hang up your compliments in the hall at home; they are old, and out of fashion: Shift, go to the inn, and bespeak a supper may cost more money than I have got to pay for it, for I am resolved to run in debt to-night.

Shift. I shall obey your commands, sir.

Thrifty. Then, d'ye hear, send out and muster up all the fiddlers, blind or not blind, drunk or sober, in the town; let not so much as the roaster of tunes, with his cracked cymbal in a case, escape you.

Gripe. Well, what would I give now for the fellow that sings the song at my lord mayor's feast: I myself would make an epithalamium by way of sonnet, and he should set a tune to it; it was the prettiest he had last time.

Enter SLY.

Sly. Oh, gentlemen, here the strangest accident fallen out!

Thrifty. What's the matter?

Sly. Poor Scapin! Gripe. Ha! Rogue, let him be hanged! I'll hang him myself.

Sly. Oh, sir, that trouble you may spare; for, passing by a place where they were building, great stone fell upon his head, and broke his skull so, you may see his brains. Thrifty. Where is he?

Sly. Yonder he comes.

pressible grief that I should dare to lift

my hand

Gripe. Hold thy peace, or die quickly; I tell thee I have forgot all

Sca. Alas! How good a man you are! But, sir, d'ye pardon me freely, and from the bottom of your heart, those merciless drubs that

Gripe. Prithee, speak no more of it; I forgive thee freely; here's my hand upon't.

Sca. Oh, sir, how much your goodness re[Pulls off his cap.

Enter ScAPIN between two, his head wrapt up in vives me!

linen, as if he had been wounded.

Sca. Oh me! Oh me! Gentlemen, you see me, you see me in a sad condition, cut off like a flower in the prime of my years; but yet I could not die, without the pardon of those I have wronged; yes, gentlemen, I beseech you to forgive me all the injuries that I have done; but more especially I beg of you, Mr. Thrifty, and my good master, Mr. Gripe.

Thrifty. For my part, I pardon thee freely; go, and die in peace.

Sca. But 'tis you, sir, I have most offended, by the inhuman bastinadoes which

Gripe. Prithee, speak no more of it; I forgive thee, too.

Sca. 'Twas a most wicked insolence in me, that I should, with vile crabtree, cudgel

Gripe. Pish! no more; I say I am satisfied.
Sca. And now so near my death, 'tis an inex-

Gripe. How's that! Friend, take notice, I pardon thee; but 'tis upon condition, that you are sure to die.

Sca. Oh me! I begin to faint again.

Thrifty, Come, fie, brother! never let revenge employ your thoughts now; forgive him, forgive him without any condition.

Gripe. A deuce on't, brother! as I hope to be saved, he beat me basely and scurvily, never stir he did: but, since you will have it so, I do forgive him.

Thrifty. Now then, let's to supper, and in our mirth drown and forget all troubles.

Sca. Ay, and let them carry me to the lower end of the table;

Where, in my chair of state, I'll sit at ease, And eat and drink, that I may die in peace. [A dance.]

[Exeunt omnes.

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A lawyer's is an honest employment; so is mine: like me, too, he acts in a double capa

PEACHUм sitting at a table, with a large book of city, both against rogues and for them; for

accounts before him.

AIR.-An old woman clothed in gray.

THROUGH all the employments of life,
Each neighbour abuses his brother,

Whore and rogue they call husband and wife;
All professions berogue one another:
The priest calls the lawyer a cheat,
The lawyer beknaves the divine,

And the statesman, because he's so great,
Thinks his trade as honest as mine.

'tis but fitting that we should protect and encourage cheats, since we live by them.

Enter FILCH.

Filch. Sir, Black Moll hath sent word her trial comes on in the afternoon; and she hopes you will order matters so as to bring her off.

Peach. Why, as the wench is very active and industrious, you may satisfy her, that I'll soften the evidence.

Filch. Tom Gagg, sir, is found guilty.
Peach. A lazy dog; when I took him the

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