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You must this cobler's wife transform, Thou first broke the commandement,
And, to the knight's, the like perform :

In honour of thy wife :
With all your most specific charms,

When Adam heard her say these words,
Convey each wife to different armis ;

He ran away for life.
Let the delusion be so strong,

Lady, Why, husband! Sir John! will you
That none may know the rightfrom wrong. suffer me to be thus insulted?
Within in thunder,lightning, and a storm.

Job. Husband ! Sir John! what a-pox, has

she knighted me? And my name's Zekel too! a [Thunder. good jest, faith!

Lady. Ha! he's gone ; he is not in the bed. SCENE V.-Changes to the Cobler's house. Heaven! where am I? Foh! what loathsome

JOBson at work. The bed in view. smells are here? Canvass sheets, and a filthy Job. What devil has been abroad to-night? I ragged curtain; a beastly rug, and a flock bed. never heard such claps of thunder in my life. I Ain I awake? or is it all a dream? What rogue thought my little hovel would have flown away; is that? Sirrah! Where am I? Who brought ine but now all is clear again, and a fine star-light hither? What rascal are you? morning it is. I'll settle myself to work. They Job. This is amazing! I never heard such say winter's thunder bring summer's wonder.

words froin her before. If I take my strap to

you, I'll make you know your husband. I'll teach AIR.—Charming Sally.

you better manners, you saucy drab! Of all the trades from east to west,

Lady. Ob, astonishing impudence! You my The cobler's, past contending,

husband, sirrah? I'll have you banged, you Is like in time to prove the best,

rogue! I'm a lady. Let me know who has given Which every day is mending.

me a sleeping-draught, and conveyed me hither,

you dirty varlet? How great his praise who can amend

Job. A sleeping-draught ! yes, you drunken The soals of all his neighbours,

jade; you had a sleeping-draught with-a-pox to Nor is unmindful of his end, But to his last still labours,

you. What, has not your lambs-wooll done workLady. Heyday ! what impudent ballad-singing husband put me! Lucy! Lettice! Where are

Lady. Where am I? Where has my villainous rogue is that, who dares wake me out of my

my queans? sleep? I'll have you flead, you rascal!

Job. Ha, ha, ha! what, does she call her Job. What a pox! does she talk in her sleep? or is she drunk still?

maids, too? The conjurer has made her mad as [Sings.

well as drunk. AIR.—Now ponder well, ye parents dcar, Lady. He talks of conjurers; sure I am be

witched. Ha ! what clothes are here? a lindsey. In Bath, a wanton wife did dwell, As Chaucer he did write,

woolsey gown, a calico hood, a red bays petti

coat ! I am removed from my own house by Who wantonly did spend her time

witchcraft. What must I do? What will become In muny a fond delight.

of me? All on a time sore sick she was,

[Horns wind without.

Job. Hark! the hunters and the merry horns
And she at length did die,
And then her soul at paradise

are abroad. Why, Nell, you lazy jade, 'tis break Did knock most mightily.

of day! to work, to work! come and spin, you

drab, or I'll tan your hide for you! What-a-pox, Lady. Why, villain, rascal, screech-owl! who must I be at work two hours before you in a makest a worse noise than a dog hung in the morning? pales, or a hog in a high wind; where are all their dost thiou not know me, you rogue?

Lady. Why, sirrah, thou impudent villain, servants? Somebody come, and hamstring this

[Knocks. Job. Know you! yes, I know you well enough, rogue.

Job. Why, how now, you brazen quean! You and I'll make you know me before I have done must get drunk with the conjurer, must you? I'll give you money another time to spend in Lady. I am Sir John Loverule's lady; how

caine I here? lamb's-wooll, you saucy jade, shall I? Lady. Monstrous! I can find no bell to ring.

Job. Sir John Loverule's lady! no, Nell; not Where are iny servants ? They shall toss hin in quite so bad, neither; that damned stingy, fanaa blanket.

tic whore, plagues every one that comes near Job. Ay, the jade's asleep still; the conjurer ber; the whole country curses her. told her she should keep her coach, and she is

Lady. Nay, then, I'll hold no longer; you rogue! dreaming of her equipage.

[Sings. you insolent villain! I'll teach you better manners.

[Flings the bedstaff, and other things, at him. I will come in, in spite, she said,

Job. This is more than ever I saw by her; I Of all such churls os thee,

never had an ill word from her before. Come, Thou art the cause of all our pain,

strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I warOur grief and misery :

rant you, quean. (He straps her, she flies at him.

with you.

Lady. I'll pull your throat out; I'll tear out The cobler has nought to perplex him; your eyes! I am a lady, sirrah. O murder ! Has nought but his wife murder! Sir John Lorerule will hang you for To ruffle his life, this; murder! murder!

And her he can strap if she ver him. Job. Come, hussy, leave fooling, and come to your spinning, or else I'll lamb you; you ne'er He's out of the power was so lambed since you were an inch long. Of fortune, that whore, Take it up, you jade.

Since low as can be she has thrust him; (She flings it down, he straps her.

From duns he's secure, Lady. Hold, hold! I'll do any thing.

For being so poor, Joh. Oh! I thought I should bring you to There's none to be found that will trust him. yourself again.

Lady. What shall I do? I can't spin. [Aside. Heyday, I think the jade's brain is turned! What, Job. I'll into my stall; 'tis broad day, now. have you forgot to spin, hussy?

[Works and sinys. Lady. But I have not forgot to run. I'll e'en

try my feet; I shall find somebody AIR.—Come, let us prepare.

sure, that will succour me. [She runs out.

Job. What, does she run for it?' i'll after her. Let matters of state

[He runs out. Disquiet the great,

the town,

ACT II. SCENE I.-Changes to Sir John's house. Let. Now's my time! what, to have another

tooth beat out ! - Madam! NELL in bed.

Nell. What dost say, my deer-O father! Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had to- what would she bave! night! Methought I was in paradise, upon a bed

Let. What work would your ladyship please of violets and roses, and the sweetesi husband to have done to-day? Shall I work plain work, by my side! Ha! bless me, where am I now? or go to my stitching? Wbat sweets are these? No garden in the spring Nell. Work, child ! 'tis holiday; no work tocan equal them: Am I on a bed ? The sheets are day. sarsenet sure ! no linen ever was so fine. What Let. Oh, mercy! am I, or she awake? or do a gay silken robe have I got? O Heaven! I we both dream? Here's a blessed change? dream! Yet, if this be a dream, I would not wish Lucy. If it continues, we shall be a happy fato wake again. Sure, I died last night, and went mily. lo Heaven, and this is it.

Let. Your ladyship's chocolate is ready.

Nell. Mercy on me! what's that? Some garEnter Lucy.

ment I suppose? [Aside.] --Put it on then, sweetLucy, Now must I awake an alarm, that will

heart. aot lie still again till midnight, at soonest; the

Let. Put it on, madam! I have taken it off; frst greeting, I suppose, will be jade, or whore. 'tis ready to drink. Madam! madam!

Nell. I mean, put it by; I don't care for drinkNell. O gemini! who's this? What dost say, ing now. sweetheart?

Enter Cook. Lucy. Swectheart! Oh lud, sweetheart! the best names I bave liad these three months from Cook. Now go I like a bear to the stake, to her, lave been slut, or whore.-- What gown know her scurvyladyship's coinmands about dinand ruffles will your ladyship wear to-day? ner. How many rascally names must I be called.

Nell. What does she mean? Ladyship! gown! Let. Oh, John Cook! you'll be out of your and ruffles ! Sure I am awake: Oh! I remember wits to find my lady in so sweet a temper. the cunning man now.

Cook. What a devil ! are they all mad? Lury. Did your ladyship speak?

Lucy. Madam, here's the cook come about Neli

. Ay, child; I'll wear the same I did yes-dinner. terday.

Nell, Oh! there's a fine cook! He looks like Lucy. Mercy upon me!-Child !--Here's a

one of your gentle folks. [Aside. ]-Indeed, ho

nest man, I'm very hungry now; pray get me a Enter LETTICE.

rasher upon the coals, a piece of one milk cheese,

and some wbite bread. Let. Is my lady awake ? have you had her Cook. Hey! what's to do here? my head turns shoe or her slipper flung at your head yet? round. Honest man! I looked for rogue or ras

Lucy. Oh no, I'ın overjoyed; she's in the kind-cal, at least. She's strangely changed in her diet, est bumour ! go to the bed, and speak to her; as well as her humour. (Aside.)-I'm afraid, Dow is your time.

madam, cheese and bacon will sit very heavy on

miracle!

If you

your ladyship’s stomach, in a morning.

Sir John. This is astonishing! I must go and please, madam, I'll toss you up a white fricasee inquire into this wonder. If this be true, I shall of chickens in a trice, madam; or what does rejoice indeed. your ladyship think of a veal sweetbread? But. 'Tis true, sir, upon my honour. Long

Nell. 'E'en what you will, good cook. live Sir John and my lady; huzza! [Ereunt.

Cook. Good cook! good cook! Ah! 'tis a sweet lady!

Enter NELL.
Enter Butler.

Nell. I well remember the cunning man warn

ed me to bear all out with confidence, or worse Oh! kiss me, Chip, I am out of my wits: We he said, would follow. I am ashamed, and know have the kindest, sweetest lady!

not what to do with all this ceremony: I am But. You shamming rogue, I think you are out amazed, and out of my senses. I looked in the of your wits, all of ye; the maids look merrily, glass, and saw a gay fine thing I knew not; metoo. Lucy. Here's the butler, madam, to know your seen at home, in a piece of looking glass fastened

thought my face was not at all like that I have ladyship's orders. Nell.Oh! pray Mr. Butler ! let me have some have flattering glasses, that shew them far unlike

upon the cupboard. But great ladies, they say, small beer when my breakfast comes in. But. Mr. Butler! Mr. Butler! I shall be turn them e'en just as they are.

themselves, whilst poor folks glasses represent ed into stone with amazement! [Aside. ]Would not your ladyship rather have a glass of Frontiniac, or Lacryme?

AIR.-When I was a dame of honour. Nell. O dear! what hard names are there!

Fine ladies, with an artful grace, but I must not betray myself. [ Aside.]-Well, Disguise each native feature ; which you please, Mr. Butler.

Whilst flattering glasses shew the face,

As made by art, not nature ;
Enter Coachmau,

But we poor folks in home-spun grey, But. Go, get you in, and be rejoiced as I am.

By patch nor washes tainted, Coach. The cook has been making his game I

Look fresh and sweeter far than they, know not how long. What, do you banter, too?

That still ure finely painted. Lucy. Madam, the coachman.

Lucy. O madam! here's my master just reCoach. I come to know if your ladyship goes turned from hunting. out to-day, and which you'll have, the coach or chariot.

Enter Sir John. Nell. Good lack-a-day! I'll ride in the coach, Nell. O gemini! this fine gentleman my busif you please.

band ! Coach. The sky will fall, that's certain. (Exit. Sir John. My dear, I am overjoyed to see my Nell

. I can hardly think I am awake yet. How family thus transported with exstasy which you well pleased they all seem to wait upon me! O occasioned. notable cunning man! My head turns round! I Nell. Sir, I shall always be proud to do every am quite giddy with my own happiness. thing, that may give you delight, or your family

satisfaction. AIR.- What though I am a country lass.

Sir John. By Heaven, I am charmed! dear Though late I was a cobler's wife,

creature, if thou continuest thus, I had rather In cottage most obscure-a.

enjoy thee than the Indies. But can this be real? In plain stuff-gown, and short-eared coif, May I believe my seoses? Hard labour did endure-a :

Nell. All that's good above can witness for The scene is changed, I'm altered quite,

me, I am in earnest. And from poor humble Nell-a.

Sir John. Rise, my dearest! Now am I happy I'll learn to dance, to read, and write,

indeed -Where are my friends, my servants ? And from all bear the bell-a. [Erit. call them all, and let them be witnesses of my

happiness. Enter Sir John, meeting his Servants.

Nell. O rare, sweet man

an! he smells all over But. Oh, sir, here's the rarest news ! like a nosegay. Heaven preserve my

wits! Lucy. There never was the like, sir! you'll be overjoyed and amazed.

AIR.—'Twas within a furlong, $c. Sir John. What are ye mad? What's the mat- Nell. O charming cunning man! thou hast been ter with ye? How now ! here's a new face in my

wondrous kind, family; what's the meaning of this?

And all thy golden words do now prove But. Ob, sir! the family's turned upside down.

true, I find ; We are almost distracted; the happiest people!

Ten thousand transports wait, mes Lucy. Ay, my lady, sir, my lady.

To crown my happy state, 2. Sir John. What, is she dead?

Thus kissed, and pressed, But. Dead! Heaven forbid ! O! she's the best

And doubly blessed woman, the sweetest lady!

In all this

pomp

and state :

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life.

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New scenes of joy orise,

Nell. Dear sir, you make me proud :
Which fill me with surprise ;

Be you but kind,
My rock, and reel,

And you shall find
And spinning-wheel,

All the good I can boast of
And husband I despise ;

Shull end but with
Then Jobson, now adieu,

Sir John. Give me thy lips ;
Thy cobling still pursue,

Nell. First let me, dear sir, wipe them ; For hence I will not, cannot, no, nor must not, Sir Jolin. Was ever so sweet a wise ! buckle to. [Exit.

[Kisses her. Nell. Thank

you,

dear sir ! SCENE II.- Jobson's house.

I vow and protest,

I ne'er was so kissed;
Enter Lady.

Again, sir !
Lady. Was ever lady yet so miserable? I can't Sir John. Again, und nguin, my dearest !
make one soul in the village acknowledge me;

O muy it last for life! they sure are all of the conspiracy. This wicked

What joys thus to enfold thee! husband of mine has laid a devilish plot against Nell, What pleasure to behold thee! me. I must at present submit, that I may here

Inclined again to kiss ! after have an opportunity of executing my de- Sir John. How ruvishing the bliss ! sign. Here comes the rogue; I'll have him Nell. I little thought this morning, strangled; but now I must yield.

'Twould ever come to this.

[Da Capo. Enter Jobson.

Enter Lady. Job. Come on, Nell; art thou come to thyself

Lady. Here's a finc rout and rioting! You, Lady. Yes, I thank you, I wonder what I ailed; sirrab, butler, you rogue ! this cunning man has put powder in my drink,

But. Why, how now! Who are you? most certainly.

Lady. Impudent varlet! Don't you know your Job. Powder! the brewer put good store of lady? powder of malt in it, that's all. Powder, quoth But. Lady! here, turn this mad woman out of sbe! ha, ha, ha!

doors! Lady. I never was so all the days of my life. Lady. You rascal ! take that, sirrah ! Job. Was so ! no, nor I hope ne'er will be so

[Flings a glass at him. again, to put me to the trouble of strapping you

Foot. Have a care, hussy! there's a good pump sa devilishly:

without; we shall cool your courage for you. Lady. I'll have that right hand cut off for thai, Lady. You, Lucy, have you forgot me too, rogue. (Aside.}-You was unmerciful to bruise you miox?

Lucy. Forgot you, woman! Why, I never reJob. Well, I'm going to Sir John Loverule's; membered you; I never saw you before in my all his tenants are invited; there's to be rare

life. feasting and revelling, and open house kept for

Lady. Oh, the wicked slut! I'll give you cause three months.

to remember me, I will, hussy. Lady. Husband, shan't I go with you?

[Pulls her headcloths of: Job. What the devil ails thee now? Did I not Lucy. Murder ! Murder ! Help! tell thee but yesterday, I would strap thee for Sir John. How now! What uproar's this? desiring to go, and art thou at it again, with a Lady. You, Lettice, you slut! Won't you pox?

know me, neither?

[Strikes her. Lady. What does the villain mean by strap

Let. Help, help! ping, and yesterday!

Sir John. What's to do there? Job. Why, I have been married but six weeks, But. Why, sir, here's a madwoman calls her and you long to make me me a cuckold already self my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all Stay at home, and be hanged ! there's good cold round. pye in the cupboard; but I'll trust thee no more Sir John. (To Lady.)-Thou my wife ! poor with strong beer, hussy.

[Erit. creature! I pity

thec! I never saw thee before. Lody. Well, I'll not be long after you; sure I

Lady. Then it is in vain to expect redress from shall get some of my own family to know me; thee, thou wicked contriver of all my misery. they can't be all in this wicked plot.

[Erit.

Nell. How am I amazed! Can that be 1,

there in my clothes, that have made all this disSCENE III.-Sie John's.

Lurbance? And yet I am here, to my thinking,

in these fine clothes. How can this be? I am so SIR Joun and company enter. confounded and affrighted, that I begin to wish

I was with Zekel Jobson again.
DUETT.

Lady. To whom shall I apply myself, or wheSir Joho. Was ever man possessed of

ther can I fly? Heaveu ! What do I see ! Is not So sweet, so kind a wife?

that I, yonder, in iny gown and petticoat I wore

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yesterday? How can it be! I cannot be in two Sir John. Oh, wretch! thou hast undone me! places at once.

I am fallen from the height of all my hopes, and Sir John. Poor wretch! She's stark mad! must still be cursed with a tempestuous wife; a

Lady. What, in the devil's name, was I here fury whom I never knew quiet since I had ber. before I came? Let me look in the glass. Oh Doc. If that be all, I can continue the charm Heavens! I am astonished! I don't know my- for both their lives. self! If this be I that the glass shews me, I never Sir John. Let the event be what it will, I'll saw myself before.

hang you if you do not end the charm this inSir John. What incoherent madness is this!

stant.

Doc. I will this minute, sir; and, perhaps, Enter Jobson.

you'll find it the luckiest of your life; I can asLady. There, that's the devil in my likeness, sure you, your lady will prove the better for it. who has robbed me of my countenance. Is he Sir John. Hold; there's one material circum. bere, too?

stance I'd know, Job. Ay, hussy; and here's my strap, you

Doc. Your pleasure, sir? quean.

Sir John. Perhaps the cobler has--you anderNell. O dear! I'm afraid my husband will beat stand me? me, that am on t'other side the room, there. Doc. I do assure you, no; for ere she was

Job. I hope your honours will pardon her; she conveyed to his bed, the cobler was got up to was drinking with a conjurer last night, and has work, and he has done nought but beat her ever been mad ever since, and calls herself my lady since. And you are like to reap the fruits of Loverule.

his labour. Hie'll be with you in a minute; bere Sir John. Poor woman! take care of her; do he comes. not hurt her, she may be cured of this. Job. Yes, and please your worship, you shall

Enter Jobsoy. see ine cure ber presently. Hussy, do you see Sir John. So, Jobson, where's your wife? this?

Job. Avd please your worship, she's here at Nell. O! pray, Zekel, don't beat ine. the door, but, indeed, I thought I had lost her

Sir John. What says my love? Does she infect just now; for as she came into the hall, she fell thee with inadness, too?

into such a swoon, that I though she would neNell. I am not well; pray lead me in. ver come out on't again; but a tweak or two by

[Ereunt Nell and Maid. the nose, and half a dozen straps, did the busiJob. I beseech your worship don't take it ill of ness at last. Here, where are you, housewife? me; she shall never trouble you more. Sir John. Take her home, and use her kindly.

Enter Lady, Lady. What will become of me?

But. (Holds up the candle, but lets it fall [Ereunt Jobson and Lady. when he sees her.]—0 heaven and earth! Is this

my lady? Enter Footman.

Job. What does he say? My wife changed to Foot. Sir, the doctor, who called bere last my lady? night, desires you will give him leave to speak Cook. Ay; I thought the other was too good a word or two with you upon very earnest busi- for our lady. ness.

Lady. [To Sir John.]—Sir, you are the perSir John. What can this mean? Bring him io. son I have most offended, and here I confess I

have been the worst of wives in every thing, but Enter Doctor.

that I always kept myself chaste. If you can Doc. Lo! on my knees, sir, I beg forgiveness vouchsafe once more to take me to your bosom, for wbat I have done, and put my life into your the remainder of my days shall joyfully be spent hands,

in duty, and observance of your will. Sir John. What mean you ?

Sir John. Rise, madam; I do forgive you; and Doc. I have exercised my magic art upon your if you are sincere in what you say, you'll make lady; I know you bave too much honour tu me happier than all the enjoyments in the take away my life, since I might have still con- world, without you, could do. cealed it, bad I pleased.

Job. What a pox! Am I to lose my

wife thus? Sir John. You have now brought me to a glimpse of misery too great to bear. Is all my

Enter Lucy and LETTICE. happiness then turned into a vision only. Lucy. Oh, sir! the strangest accident has hap

Doc. Sir, I bey you, fear not; if any harm pened! it has amazed us; my lady was in so comes of it, I freely give you leave to hang me. great a swoon, we thought she had been dead.

Sir John. Inform me what you have done. Let. And when she came to herself, she pror.

Doc. I have transformed your lady's face so, ed another woman. that she seems the cobler's wife, and have charm- Job. Ha, ha, ha! A bull, a bull! ed her face into the likeness of my lady's; and Lucy. She is so changed, I knew her not; I last night, when the storm arose, ny spirits con- never saw her face before : o lud! Is this my veyed them to each other's bed.

lady?

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