CHILDHOOD. BLANK VERSE. In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse That reverend form bent down with age and And rankling malady. Yet not for this Down which the child would roll; to pluck gay For she had studied patience in the school Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand THE GRANDAME. ON the green hill top, Of Christ; much comfort she had thence derived, THE SABBATH BELLS. THE cheerful sabbath bells, wherever heard, Whom thoughts abstruse or high have chanced Forth from the walks of men, revolving oft, Well-earn'd, the bread of service:-hers was else Of controversy, where no end appears, A mountain spirit, one that entertain'd With what a zeal she served her master's house; No clue to his research, the lonely man Him, thus engaged, the sabbath bells salute FANCY EMPLOYED ON DIVINE SUBJECTS. "Twere some relief to catch the drowsy cry Of health, and active life-health not yet slain, And finds no comfort in the sun, but says an end. 'Tis darkness and conjecture all beyond; Weak Nature fears, though Charity must hope, And Fancy, most licentious on such themes Where decent reverence well had kept her mute, Hath o'er-stock'd hell with devils, and brought down By her enormous fablings and mad lies, heels In heav'n, the saint nor pity feels, nor care, ACT THE FIRST. SCENE-A Servants' Apartment in Woodvil Hall. Servants drinking-TIME, the Morning. A Song, by DANIEL. "When the King enjoys his own again." Peter. A delicate song. Where didst learn it, fellow? Dan. Even there, where thou learnest thy oaths and thy politics-at our master's table.Where else should a serving-man pick up his poor accomplishments? Mar. Well spoken, Daniel. O rare Daniel ! his oaths and his politics! excellent! Fran. And where didst pick up thy knavery, Daniel ? Peter. That came to him by inheritance. His family have supplied the shire of Devon, time out of mind, with good thieves and bad servingAll of his race have come into the world without their conscience. men. Mar. Good thieves, and bad serving-men! Better and better. I marvel what Daniel hath got to say in reply. Dan. I marvel more when thou wilt say any thing to the purpose, thou shallow serving-man, whose swiftest conceit carries thee no higher than to apprehend with difficulty the stale jests of us thy compeers. When was't ever known to club thy own particular jest among us? Mar. Most unkind Daniel, to speak such biting things of me! Fran. See if he hath not brought tears into the poor fellow's eyes with the saltness of his rebuke. Dan. No offence, brother Martin-I meant none. 'Tis true, Heaven gives gifts, and withholds them. It has been pleased to bestow upon me a nimble invention to the manufacture of a jest; and upon thee, Martin, an indifferent bad capacity to understand my meaning. Mar. Is that all? I am content. Here's my hand. Fran. Well, I like a little innocent mirth myself, but never could endure bawdry. Dan. Quot homines tot sententiæ. Mar. And what is that ! Dan. 'Tis Greek, and argues difference of opinion. Mar. I hope there is none between us. Dan. Here's to thee, brother Martin. (Drinks.) Mar. And to thee, Daniel. (Drinks.) Fran. And to thee, Peter. (Drinks.) Peter. Thank you, Francis. thee. (Drinks.) Mar. I shall be fuddled anon. And here's to Dan. And drunkenness I hold to be a very despicable vice. All. O a shocking vice. (They drink round.) Peter. In as much as it taketh away the understanding. Dan. And makes the eyes red. Peter. And the tongue to stammer. [During this conversation they continue drinking. Peter. Some men do not know an enemy from a friend when they are drunk. Dan. Certainly sobriety is the health of the soul. Dan. I hope there is none in this company would be mean enough to betray him. All. O Lord surely not. [They drink to SIR WALTER's safety. I Fran. I have often wondered how our master Mar. Now I know I am going to be drunk. came to be excepted by name in the late Act of Dan. How canst tell, dry-bones? Mar. Because I begin to be melancholy. That's always a sign. Fran. Take care of Martin, he'll topple off his seat else. [MARTIN drops asleep. Peter. Times are greatly altered, since young master took upon himself the government of this household. All. Greatly altered. Fran. I think every thing be altered for the better since His Majesty's blessed restoration. Peter. In Sir Walter's days there was no encouragement given to good house-keeping. All. None. Oblivion. Dan. Shall I tell the reason? All. Ay, do. Dan. 'Tis thought he is no great friend to the present happy establishment. All. O monstrous ! Peter. Fellow servants, a thought strikes me. │ -Do we, or do we not, come under the penalties of the treason-act, by reason of our being privy to this man's concealment ? All. Truly a sad consideration. To them enters SANDFORD suddenly. Sand. You well-fed and unprofitable grooms, Dan. For instance, no possibility of getting Maintain❜d for state, not use; drunk before two in the afternoon. You lazy feasters at another's cost, Peter. Every man his allowance of ale at break- That eat like maggots into an estate, fast-his quart! Mar. (Opening his eyes.) Like beasts. Fran. I marvel all this while where the old gentleman has found means to secrete himself. It seems no man has heard of him since the day of the King's return. Can any tell why our young master, being favoured by the court, should not have interest to procure his father's pardon? Dan. Marry, I think 'tis the obstinacy of the old Knight, that will not be beholden to the court for his safety. Mar. Now that is wilful. Being indeed but foul excrescences, Sand. No prating, loon, but tell me who he That I may brain the villain with my staff, With minds more slavish than your slave's estate, Which took you from the looms, and from the Which better had ye follow'd, fed ye, clothed ye, Fran. But can any tell me the place of his Where your best wages was the world's repute, concealment? That thus ye seek his life, by whom ye live. Peter. That cannot I; but I have my con- Have you forgot too, jectures. How often in old times Dan. Two hundred pounds, as I hear, to the Your drunken mirths have stunn'd day's sober man that shall apprehend him. ears, Carousing full cups to Sir Walter's health ?— Our master's secret sleeps with trustier tongues, Shall teach you better manners else. All. Well, we are going. Enquire the times and seasons when to put I am somewhat proud: and Woodvil taught me I was his favourite once, his playfellow in infancy, None once so pleasant in his eyes as Margaret. Sand. And quickly too, ye had better, for I see His dear heart's confessor, a heart within that Young mistress Margaret coming this way. [Exeunt all but SANDFORD. Enter MARGARET, as in a fright, pursued by a Gentleman, who, seeing SANDFORD, retires muttering a curse. Sand. Good morrow to my fair mistress. 'Twas a chance I saw you, lady, so intent was I On chiding hence these graceless serving-men, Since my old master quitted all his rights here. scorn Of Woodvil's friends, the uncivil jests And free discourses of the dissolute men heart, And all dear things summ'd up in her alone. His dress, speech, gesture, studies, friendships, Being fashion'd to her liking. His flatteries taught me first this self-esteem, And ladies envied me the love of Woodvil. Sand. He doth affect the courtier's life too much, Whose art is to forget, And that has wrought this seeming change in him, That was by nature noble. That haunt this mansion, making me their 'Tis these court-plagues, that swarm about our mirth. Sand. Does my young master know of these affronts? Marg. I cannot tell. Perhaps he has not been told. Perhaps he might have seen them if he would. I have known him more quick-sighted. Let that pass. house, Have done the mischief, making his fancy giddy Marg. I know not how it is; A cold protector is John grown to me. All things seem changed, I think. I had a A man, her equal, to redress those wrongs, Which he was bound first to prevent; But which his own neglects have sanction'd rather, Both sanction'd and provok'd: a mark'd neglect, His love, which long has been upon the wane. To leave this house this night, and lukewarm And trust for food to the earth and Providence. Of these indefinite and spleen-bred resolves. Sand. "Twere best he should be told of these You know not half the dangers that attend affronts. Marg. I am the daughter of his father's friend, I am not his servant maid, that I should wait Upon a life of wand'ring, which your thoughts now, Feeling the swellings of a lofty anger, To your abused fancy, as 'tis likely, Portray without its terrors, painting lies R R |