John Bull
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Transcriber's note:
Typographical errors in the original 1807 edition
have been left uncorrected.
JOHN BULL;
Or,
The Englishman's Fireside:
A Comedy, in Five Acts;
by
GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER.
As Performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.
Printed Under the Authority of the Managers
from the Prompt Book.
With Remarks by Mrs. Inchbald.
[Illustration: JOHN BULL
JOB THORNBERRY.--THERE--'TIS FIT IT SHOULD BE FILLED BY SOMEBODY.
ACT V, SCENE II.
PAINTED BY SINGLETON
PUBLISHED BY LONGMAN & CO.
ENGRAVED BY FITTLER]
London:
Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme,
Paternoster Row.
William Savage, Printer,
London.
REMARKS.
"Yet be not blindly guided by the throng;
"The multitude is always in the wrong."
Roscommon surely meets with a bold contradiction in this comedy--for
it was not only admired by the multitude, but the discerning few
approved of that admiration.
The irresistible broad humour, which is the predominant quality of
this drama, is so exquisitely interspersed with touches of nature
more refined, with occasional flashes of wit, and with events so
interesting, that, if the production is not of that perfect kind
which the most rigid critic demands, he must still acknowledge it as
a bond, given under the author's own hand, that he can, if he
pleases, produce, in all its various branches, a complete comedy.
The introduction of farces into the entertainments of the theatre
has been one cause of destroying that legitimate comedy, which such
critics require. The eye, which has been accustomed to delight in
paintings of caricature, regards a picture from real life as an
insipid work. The extravagance of farce has given to the Town a
taste for the pleasant convulsion of hearty laughter, and smiles are
contemned, as the tokens of insipid amusement.
To know the temper of the times with accuracy, is one of the first
talents requisite to a dramatic author. The works of other authors
may be reconsidered a week, a month, or a year after a first
perusal, and regain their credit by an increase of judgment bestowed
upon their reader; but the dramatist, once brought before the
public, must please at first sight, or never be seen more. There is
no reconsideration in _his_ case--no judgment to expect beyond the
decree of the moment: and he must direct his force against the
weakness, as well as the strength, of his jury. He must address
their habits, passions, and prejudices, as the only means to gain
this sudden conquest of their minds and hearts. Such was the
author's success on the representation of "John Bull." The hearts
and minds of his auditors were captivated, and proved, to
demonstration, his skilful insight into human kind.
Were other witnesses necessary to confirm this truth, the whole
dramatis personae might be summoned as evidence, in whose characters
human nature is powerfully described; and if, at times, too boldly
for a reader's sober fancy, most judiciously adapted to that spirit
which guides an audience.
It would be tedious to enumerate the beauties of this play, for it
abounds with them. Its faults, in a moment, are numbered.
The prudence and good sense of Job Thornberry are so palpably
deficient, in his having given to a little run-away, story-telling
boy (as it is proved, and he might have suspected) ten guineas, the
first earnings of his industry--that no one can wonder he becomes a
bankrupt, or pity him when he does. In the common course of
occurrences, ten guineas would redeem many a father of a family from
bitter misery, and plunge many a youth into utter ruin. Yet nothing
pleases an audience so much as a gift, let who will be the receiver.
They should be broken of this vague propensity to give; and be
taught, that charity without discrimination is a sensual enjoyment,
and, like all sensuality, ought to be restrained: but that charity
with discretion, is foremost amongst the virtues, and must not be
contaminated with heedless profusion.--Still the author has shown
such ingenuity in the event which arises from this incident, that
those persons, who despise the silly generosity of Thornberry, are
yet highly affected by the gratitude of Peregrine.
This comedy would read much better, but not act half so well, if it
were all written in good English. It seems unreasonable to forbid an
author to take advantage of any actor's peculiar abilities that may
suit his convenience; and both Johnstone and Emery displayed
abilities of the very first rate in the two characters they
represented in "John Bull."--But to the author of "John Bull," whose
genius may be animated to still higher exertions in the pursuit of
fame, it may be said--Leave the distortion of language to men who
cannot embellish it like yourself--and to women.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
PEREGRINE _Mr. Cooke._
SIR SIMON ROCHDALE] _Mr. Blanchard._
FRANK ROCHDALE _Mr. H. Johnston._
WILLIAMS _Mr. Klanert._
LORD FITZ-BALAAM _Mr. Waddy._
HON. TOM SHUFFLETON _Mr. Lewis_
JOB THORNBERRY _Mr. Fawcett._
JOHN BUR _Mr. Atkins._
DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY _Mr. Johnstone._
DAN _Mr. Emery._
MR. PENNYMAN _Mr. Davenport._
JOHN _Mr. Abbot._
ROBERT _Mr. Truman._
SIMON _Mr. Beverly._
LADY CAROLINE BRAYMORE _Mrs. H. Johnston._
MRS. BRULGRUDDERY _Mrs. Davenport._
MARY THORNBERRY _Mrs. Gibbs._
_SCENE,--Cornwall._
JOHN BULL.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
_A Public House on a Heath: over the Door the Sign of the Red
Cow;----and the Name of "DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY."_
_Enter DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY and DAN, from the House. DAN opening
the outward Shutters of the House._
_Dennis._ A pretty blustratious night we have had! and the sun peeps
through the fog this morning, like the copper pot in my
kitchen.--Devil a traveller do I see coming to the Red Cow.
_Dan._ Na, measter!--nowt do pass by here, I do think, but the
carrion crows.
_Dennis._ Dan;--think you, will I be ruin'd?
_Dan._ Ees; past all condemption. We be the undonestest family in
all Cornwall. Your ale be as dead as my grandmother; mistress do set
by the fire, and sputter like an apple a-roasting; the pigs ha'
gotten the measles; I be grown thinner nor an old sixpence; and thee
hast drank up all the spirity liquors.
_Dennis._ By my soul, I believe my setting up the Red Cow, a week
ago, was a bit of a Bull!--but that's no odds. Haven't I been
married these three months?--and who did I marry?
_Dan._ Why, a waddling woman, wi' a mulberry feace.
_Dennis._ Have done with your blarney, Mr. Dan. Think of the high
blood in her veins, you bog trotter.
_Dan._ Ees; I always do, when I do look at her nose.
_Dennis._ Never you mind Mrs. Brulgruddery's nose. Was'nt she fat
widow to Mr. Skinnygauge, the lean exciseman of Lestweithel? and
did'nt her uncle, who is fifteenth cousin to a Cornish Baronet, say
he'd leave her no money, if he ever happen'd to have any, because
she had disgraced her parentage, by marrying herself to a taxman?
Bathershan, man, and don't you think he'll help us out of the mud,
now her second husband is an Irish jontleman, bred and born?
_Dan._ He, he! Thee be'st a rum gentleman.
_Dennis._ Troth, and myself, Mr. Dennis Brulgruddery, was brought up
to the church.
_Dan._ Why, zure!
_Dennis._ You may say that, I open'd the pew doors, in Belfast.
_Dan._ And what made 'em to turn thee out o'the treade?
_Dennis._ I snored in sermon time. Dr. Snufflebags, the preacher,
said I woke the rest of the congregation. Arrah, Dan, don't I see a
tall customer stretching out his arms in the fog?
_Dan._ Na; that be the road-post.
_Dennis._ 'Faith, and so it is. Och! when I was turn'd out of my
snug birth at Belfast, the tears ran down my eighteen year old
cheeks, like buttermilk.
_Dan._ Pshaw, man! nonsense! Thee'dst never get another livelihood
by crying.
_Dennis._ Yes, I did; I cried oysters. Then I pluck'd up----what's
that? a customer!
_Dan._ [_Looking out._] Na, a donkey.
_Dennis._ Well, then I pluck'd up a parcel of my courage, and I
carried arms.
_Dan._ Waunds! what, a musket?
_Dennis._ No; a reaping hook. I cut my way half through England:
till a German learn'd me physic, at a fair in Devonshire.
_Dan._ What, poticary's stuff?
_Dennis._ I studied it in Doctor Von Quolchigronck's booth, at
Plympton. He cured the yellow glanders, and restored prolification
to families who wanted an heir. I was of mighty use to him as an
assistant.
_Dan._ Were you indeed!
_Dennis._ But, somehow, the doctor and I had a quarrel; so I gave
him something, and parted.
_Dan._ And what didst thee give him, pray?
_Dennis._ I gave him a black-eye; and set up for myself at
Lestweithel; where Mr. Skinnygauge, the exciseman, was in his
honeymoon.--Poor soul! he was my patient, and died one day: but his
widow had such a neat notion of my subscriptions, that in three
weeks, she was Mrs. Brulgruddery.
_Dan._ He, he! so you jumped into the old man's money?
_Dennis._ Only a dirty hundred pounds. Then her brother-in-law, bad
luck to him! kept the Red Cow, upon Muckslush Heath, till his teeth
chatter'd him out of the world, in an ague.
_Dan._ Why, that be this very house.
_Dennis._ Ould Nick fly away with the roof of it! I took the
remainder of the lease, per advice of my bride, Mrs. Brulgruddery:
laid out her goodlooking hundred pound for the furniture, and the
goodwill; bought three pigs, that are going into a consumption;
took a sarvingman----
_Dan._ That's I.--I be a going into a consumption too, sin you hired
me.
_Dennis._ And devil a soul has darken'd my doors for a pot of beer
since I have been a publican.
_Dan._ See!--See, mun, see! yon's a traveller, sure as eggs!--and a
coming this road.
_Dennis._ Och, hubbaboo! a customer, at last! St. Patrick send he
may be a pure dry one! Be alive, Dan, be alive! run and tell him
there's elegant refreshment at the Red Cow.
_Dan._ I will--Oh, dang it, I doesn't mind a bit of a lie.
_Dennis._ And harkye:--say there's an accomplish'd landlord.
_Dan._ Ees--and a genteel waiter; but he'll see that.
_Dennis._ And, Dan;--sink that little bit of a thunder storm, that
has sour'd all the beer, you know.
_Dan._ What, dost take me for an oaf? Dang me, if he han't been used
to drink vinegar, he'll find it out fast enow of himsel, Ise warrant
un! [_Exit._
_Dennis._ Wife!--I must tell her the joyful news--Mrs. Brulgruddery!
my dear!--Devil choak my dear!--she's as deaf as a trunk-maker--Mrs.
Brulgruddery!
_Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY._
_Mrs. Brul._ And what do you want, now, with Mrs. Brulgruddery?
What's to become of us? tell me that. How are we going on, I shou'd
like to know?
_Dennis._ Mighty like a mile-stone--standing still, at this present
writing.
_Mrs. Brul._ A pretty situation we are in truly!
_Dennis._ Yes;--upon Muckslush Heath, and be damn'd to it.
_Mrs. Brul._ And, where is the fortune I brought you?
_Dennis._ All swallow'd up by the Red Cow.
_Mrs. Brul._ Ah! had you follow'd my advice, we shou'd never have
been in such a quandary.
_Dennis._ Tunder and turf! didn't yourself advise me to take this
public house?
_Mrs. Brul._ No matter for that. I had a relation who always kept
it. But, who advised you to drink out all the brandy?
_Dennis._ No matter for that. I had a relation who always drank it.
_Mrs. Brul._ Ah! my poor dear Mr. Skinnygauge never brought tears
into my eyes, as you do! [_Crying._
_Dennis._ I know that--I saw you at his funeral.
_Mrs. Brul._ You're a monster!
_Dennis._ Am I?--Keep it to yourself, then, my lambkin.
_Mrs. Brul._ You'll be the death of me; you know you will.
_Dennis._ Look up, my sweet Mrs. Brulgruddery! while I give you a
small morsel of consolation.
_Mrs. Brul._ Consolation indeed!
_Dennis._ Yes--There's a customer coming.
_Mrs. Brul._ [_Brightening._] What!
_Dennis._ A customer. Turn your neat jolly face over the Heath,
yonder. Look at Dan, towing him along, as snug as a cock salmon into
a fish basket.
_Mrs. Brul._ Jimminy, and so there is! Oh, my dear Dennis! But I
knew how it would be, if you had but a little patience. Remember, it
was all by my advice you took the Red Cow.
_Dennis._ Och ho! it was, was it?
_Mrs. Brul._ I'll run, and spruce myself up a bit. Aye, aye, I
hav'n't prophesied a customer to-day for nothing.
[_Goes into the House._
_Dennis._ Troth, and it's prophesying on the sure side, to foretell
a thing when it has happen'd.
_Enter DAN, conducting PEREGRINE--PEREGRINE carrying a small
Trunk under his Arm._
_Pereg._ I am indifferent about accommodations.
_Dan._ Our'n be a comfortable parlour, zur: you'll find it clean:
for I wash'd un down mysen, wringing wet, five minutes ago.
_Pereg._ You have told me so, twenty times.
_Dan._ This be the Red Cow, zur, as you may see by the pictur; and
here be measter--he'll treat ye in a hospital manner, zur, and show
you a deal o' contention.
_Dennis._ I'll be bound, sir, you'll get good entertainment, whether
you are a man or a horse.
_Pereg._ You may lodge me as either, friend. I can sleep as well in
a stable as a bedchamber; for travel has season'd me.--Since I have
preserved this [_Half aside, and pointing to the Trunk under his
Arm_], I can lay my head upon it with tranquility, and repose any
where.
_Dennis._ 'Faith, it seems a mighty decent, hard bolster. What is it
stuff'd with, I wonder?
_Pereg._ That which keeps the miser awake--money.
_Dan._ Wauns! all that money!
_Dennis._ I'd be proud, sir, to know your upholsterer--he should
make me a feather bed gratis of the same pretty materials. If that
was all my own, I'd sleep like a pig, though I'm married to Mrs.
Brulgruddery.
_Pereg._ I shall sleep better, because it is not my own.
_Dennis._ Your own's in a snugger place, then? safe from the sharks
of this dirty world, and be hang'd to 'em!
_Pereg._ Except the purse in my pocket, 'tis, now, I fancy, in a
place most frequented by the sharks of this world.
_Dennis._ London, I suppose?
_Pereg._ The bottom of the sea.
_Dennis._ By my soul, that's a watering place--and you'll find
sharks there, sure enough in all conscience.
_Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY._
_Mrs. Brul._ What would you chuse to take, sir, after your walk this
raw morning? We have any thing you desire.
_Dennis._ Yes, we have any thing. Any thing's nothing, they say.
[_Aside._
_Mrs. Brul._ Dan, bustle about; and see the room ready, and all
tidy; do you hear?
_Dan._ I wull.
_Mrs. Brul._ What would you like to drink, sir?
_Pereg._ O, mine is an accommodating palate, hostess. I have
swallowed burgundy with the French, hollands with the Dutch, sherbet
with a Turk, sloe juice with an Englishman, and water with a simple
Gentoo.
_Dan._ [_Going._] Dang me, but he's a rum customer! It's my opinion,
he'll take a fancy to our sour beer. [_Exit into the House_
_Pereg._ Is your house far from the sea-shore?
_Mrs. Brul._ About three miles, sir.
_Pereg._ So!--And I have wandered upon the heath four hours, before
day-break.
_Mrs. Brul._ Lackaday! has any thing happened to you, sir?
_Pereg._ Shipwreck--that's all.
_Mrs. Brul._ Mercy on us! cast away?
_Pereg._ On your coast, here.
_Dennis._ Then, compliment apart, sir, you take a ducking as if you
had been used to it.
_Pereg._ Life's a lottery, friend; and man should make up his mind
to the blanks. On what part of Cornwall am I thrown?
_Mrs. Brul._ We are two miles from Penzance, sir.
_Pereg._ Ha!--from Penzance!--that's lucky!
_Mrs. Brul_ [_Aside to DENNIS._] Lucky!--Then he'll go on, without
drinking at our house.
_Dennis._ A hem!--Sir, there has been a great big thunder storm at
Penzance, and all the beer in the town's as thick as mustard.
_Pereg._ I feel chill'd--get me a glass of brandy.
_Dennis._ Och, the devil! [_Aside._] Bring the brandy bottle for the
jontleman, my jewel. [_Aloud to his Wife._
_Mrs. Brul._ [_Apart._] Dont you know you've emptied it, you sot,
you!
_Dennis._ [_Apart._] Draw a mug of beer--I'll palaver him.
_Mrs. Brul._ [_Apart, and going._] Ah! if you would but follow my
advice! [_Exit into the House._
_Dennis._ You see that woman that's gone sir,--she's my wife, poor
soul! She has but one misfortune, and that's a wapper.
_Pereg._ What's that?
_Dennis._ We had as a neat a big bottle of brandy, a week ago--and
damn the drop's left. But I say nothing--she's my wife, poor
creature! and she can tell who drank it. Would'nt you like a sup of
sour--I mean, of our strong beer?
_Pereg._ Pshaw! no matter what. Tell me, is a person of the name of
Thornberry still living in Penzance?
_Dennis._ Is it one Mr. Thornberry you are asking after?
_Pereg._ Yes. When I first saw him (indeed, it was the first time
and the last), he had just begun to adventure humbly in trade. His
stock was very slender, but his neighbours accounted him a kindly
man--and I know they spoke the truth. Thirty years ago, after half
an hour's intercourse, which proved to me his benevolent nature, I
squeezed his hand, and parted.
_Dennis._ Thirty years! 'Faith, after half an hour's dish of talk,
that's a reasonable long time to remember!
_Pereg._ Not at all; for he did me a genuine service; and gratitude
writes the records in the heart, that, till it ceases to beat, they
may live in the memory.
_Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY, with a Mug of Beer._
_Mrs. Brul._ [_Apart to DENNIS._] What have you said about the
brandy bottle?
_Dennis._ [_Apart._] I told him you broke it, one day.
_Mrs. Brul._ [_Apart._] Ah! I am always the shelter for your sins.
_Dennis._ Hush!--[_To PERG._] You know, sir, I--hem!--I mention'd to
you poor Mrs. Brulgruddery's misfortune.
_Pereg._ Ha, ha! you did indeed, friend.
_Mrs. Brul._ I am very sorry, sir, but--
_Dennis._ Be asy, my lambkin! the jontleman excuses it. You are not
the first that has crack'd a bottle, you know.--Here's your beer,
sir. [_Taking it from his Wife._] I'm not of a blushing nation, or
I'd be shame-faced to give it him.--[_Aside._] My jewel, the
jontleman was asking after one Mr. Thornberry.
[_Delaying to give the Beer._
_Mrs. Brul._ What! old Job Thornberry of Penzance, sir?
_Pereg._ The very same. You know him, then?
_Mrs. Brul._ Very well, by hearsay, sir. He has lived there upwards
of thirty years. A very thriving man now, and well to do in the
world;--as others might be, too, if they would but follow my advice.
[_To DENNIS._
_Pereg._ I rejoice to hear it. Give me the beer, Landlord; I'll
drink his health in humble malt, then hasten to visit him.
_Dennis. [Aside._] By St. Patrick, then, you'll make wry faces on
the road. [_Gives him the mug._
[_As PEREGRINE is about to drink, a Shriek
is heard at a small Distance._
_Pereg._ Ha! the voice of a female in distress? Then 'tis a man's
business to fly to her protection.
[_Dashes the Mug on the Ground. Exit._
_Mrs. Brul._ Wheugh! what a whirligigg! Why, Dennis, the man's mad!
_Dennis._ I think that thing.
_Mrs. Brul._ He has thrown down all the beer, before he tasted a
drop.
_Dennis._ That's it: if he had chuck'd it away afterwards, I
shou'dn't have wonder'd.
_Mrs. Brul._ Here he comes again;--and, I declare, with a young
woman leaning on his shoulder.
_Dennis._ A young woman! let me have a bit of a peep. [_Looking
out._] Och, the crater! Och, the--
_Mrs. Brul._ Heyday! I should'n't have thought of your peeping after
a young woman, indeed!
_Dennis._ Be asy, Mrs. Brulgruddery! it's a way we have in
Ireland.--There's a face!
_Mrs. Brul._ Well, and hav'n't I a face, pray?
_Dennis._ That you have, my lambkin! You have had one these fifty
years, I'll bound for you.
_Mrs. Brul._ Fifty years! you are the greatest brute that ever dug
potatoes.
_Re-enter PEREGRINE, supporting MARY._
_Pereg._ This way. Cheer your spirits; the ruffian with whom I saw
you struggling, has fled across the Heath; but his speed prevented
my saving your property. Was your money, too, in the parcel with
your clothes?
_Mary._ All I possessed in the world, sir;--and he has so
frighten'd me!--Indeed. I thank you, sir; indeed I do!
_Pereg._ Come, come, compose yourself. Whither are you going, pretty
one?
_Mary._ I must not tell, sir.
_Pereg._ Then whither do you come from?
_Mary._ No body must know, sir.
_Pereg._ Umph! Then your proceedings, child, are a secret?
_Mary._ Yes, sir.
_Pereg._ Yet you appear to need a friend to direct them. A heath is
a rare place to find one: in the absence of a better, confide in me.
_Mary._ You forget that you are a stranger, sir.
_Pereg._ I always do--when the defenceless want my assistance.
_Mary._ But, perhaps you might betray me, sir.
_Pereg._ Never--by the honour of a man!
_Mary._ Pray don't swear by that, sir! for, then, you'll betray me,
I'm certain.
_Pereg._ Have you ever suffered from treachery, then, poor
innocence?
_Mary._ Yes, sir.
_Pereg._ And may not one of your own sex have been treacherous to
you?
_Mary._ No, sir; I'm very sure he was a man.
_Dennis._ Oh, the blackguard!
_Mrs. Brul._ Hold your tongue, do!
_Pereg._ Listen to me, child. I would proffer you friendship, for
your own sake--for the sake of benevolence. When ages, indeed, are
nearly equal, nature is prone to breathe so warmly on the blossoms
of a friendship between the sexes, that the fruit is desire; but
time, fair one, is scattering snow on my temples, while Hebe waves
her freshest ringlets over yours. Rely, then, on one who has
numbered years sufficient to correct his passions; who has
encountered difficulties enough to teach him sympathy; and who would
stretch forth his hand to a wandering female, and shelter her like a
father.
_Mary._ Oh, sir! I do want protection sadly indeed! I am very
miserable! [_Weeping._
_Pereg._ Come, do not droop. The cause of your distress, perhaps, is
trifling; but, light gales of adversity will make women weep. A
woman's tear falls like the dew that zephyrs shake from roses.--Nay,
confide in me.
_Mary._ I will, sir; but---- [_Looking round._
_Pereg._ Leave us a little, honest friends.
_Dennis._ A hem!--Come, Mrs. Brulgruddery! let you and I pair off,
my lambkin!
_Mrs. Brul._ [_Going._] Ah! she's no better than she should be, I'll
warrant her.
_Dennis._ By the powers, she's well enough though, for all that.
[_Exeunt DENNIS and MRS. BRUL. into the House._
_Pereg._ Now, sweet one, your name?
_Mary._ Mary, sir.
_Pereg._ What else?
_Mary._ Don't ask me that, sir: my poor father might be sorry it was
mentioned, now.
_Pereg._ Have you quitted your father, then?
_Mary._ I left his house at day-break, this morning, sir.
_Pereg._ What is he?
_Mary._ A tradesman in the neighbouring town, sir.
_Pereg._ Is he aware of your departure?
_Mary._ No, sir,
_Pereg._ And your mother--?
_Mary._ I was very little, when she died, sir.
_Pereg._ Has your father, since her death, treated you with cruelty?
_Mary._ He? Oh, bless him! no! he is the kindest father that ever
breathed, sir.
_Pereg._ How must such a father be agonized by the loss of his
child!
_Mary._ Pray, sir, don't talk of that!
_Pereg._ Why did you fly from him?
_Mary._ Sir, I----I----but that's my story, sir.
_Pereg._ Relate it, then.
_Mary._ Yes, sir.--You must know, then, sir, that--there was a young
gentleman in this neighbourhood, that--O dear, sir, I'm quite
ashamed!
_Pereg._ Come, child, I will relieve you from the embarrassment of
narration, and sum up your history in one word;--love.
_Mary._ That's the beginning of it, sir; but a great deal happen'd
afterwards.
_Pereg._ And who is the hero of your story, my poor girl?
_Mary._ The hero of----? O, I understand--he is much above me in
fortune, sir. To be sure, I should have thought of that, before he
got such power over my heart, to make me so wretched, now he has
deserted me.
_Pereg._ He would have thought of that, had his own heart been
generous.
_Mary._ He is reckon'd very generous, sir; he can afford to be so.
When the old gentleman dies, he will have all the great family
estate. I am going to the house, now, sir.
_Pereg._ For what purpose?
_Mary._ To try if I can see him for the last time, sir: to tell him
I shall always pray for his happiness, when I am far away from a
place which he has made it misery for me to abide in;--and to beg
him to give me a little supply of money, now I am pennyless, and
from home, to help me to London; where I may get into service, and
nobody will know me.
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