Sir P. It is but reasonable. I conclude, then, you are in my debt.

Ash. Eees, zur, I be; at your zarvice.

Sir P. How much?

Ash. I do owe ye a hundred and fifty pounds; at your zarvice.

Sir P. Which you can't pay.

Ash. Not a varthing, zur;

at you

zarvice.

Sir. P. Well, I am willing to allow you every indulgence. Ash. Be you, zur? that be deadly kind. Dear heart! it will make my auld dame quite young again, and I don't think helping a poor man will do your honor's health any harm; I don't, indeed, zur. I had thought of speaking to your worship about it; but then, thinks I, the gentleman mayhap be one of those that do like to do a good turn, and not have a word zaid about it: zo zur, if you had not mentioned what I owed you, I am zure I never should; should not, indeed, zur. Sir. P. Nay, I will wholly acquit you of the debt, on con dition

Ash. Eees, zur.

Sir. P. On condition, I say, that you instantly turn out that boy-that Henry.

Ash. Turn out Henry! Ha, ha, ha! Excuse my tittering, zur; but you bees making your vun of I, zure.

Sir. P. I am not apt to trifle: send him instantly from you, or take the consequences.

I

Ash. Turn out Henry! I do vow I shouldn't know how to set about it; I should not, indeed, zur.

Sir. P. You hear my determination. If you disobey, you know what will follow. I'll leave you to reflect on it. (Exit.)

Ash. Well, zur, I'll argify the topic, and then you may wait upon me, and I'll tell ye. (Makes the motion of turning out.) I should be deadly awkward at it, vor zartin. However, I'll put the case. Well! I goes whiztling whoam; noa, drabbit it! I shouldn't be able to whiztle a bit, I'm zure. Well! I goes whoam, and I zees Henry zitting by my wife, mixing up someit to comfort the auld zoul, and take away the

pain of her rheumaties. Very well! Then Henry places a chair vor I by the vire-side and zays-" Varmer, the horses be fed, the sheep be volded, and you have nothing to do but to zit down, smoke your pipe, and be happy"! Very well! (Becomes affected.) Then I zays, "Henry, you be poor and friendless; zo you must turn out of my house directly." Very well! Then my wife stares at I; reaches her hand towards the vire-place and throws the poker at my head. Very well! Then Henry gives a kind of auguish shake, and getting up, sighs from the bottom of his heart; then, holding up his head like a king, zays, "Varmer, I have too long been a burden to you. Heaven protect you, as you have me. Farewell! I go." Then I zays, "If thee doez, I'll be smashed." (With great energy.) Hollo! you Mister Sir Philip! you may come in.

(Enter Sir Philip Blanford.)

Zur, I have argified the topic, and it wouldn't be pretty; zo I can't.

Sir. P. Can't?

Ash. Well, zur, there is but another word: I won't.

Sir P. Indeed!

Ash. No, zur, I won't. I'd see myself hanged virst, and you too, zur! I would, indeed. (Bowing.)

Sir. P. You refuse, then, to obey?

Ash. I do, zur; at your zarvice. (Bowing.)
Sir P. Then the law must take its course.

Ash. I be zorry for that, too. I be, indeed, zur; but if corn wouldn't grow, I couldn't help it: it weren't poisoned by the hand that zowed it. Thic hand, zur, be as free from guilt as your own. Good morning to you. I do hope I have made myself agreeable; and zo I'll go whoam. (Exeurt)

COWARDICE AND BOASTING.-SHAKSPEARE.

PRINCE HENRY AND FALSTAFF.

P. Henry. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Falstaff. A plague on all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry and amen! (To an attendant.) Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nethersocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague on all cowards: -Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? (Drains the cup.) You rogue, here's lime in this sack, too. There is nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man! Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it; a villanous coward. Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then I am a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and grown old,-a bad world, I say! A plague on all cowards, I Gay still!

P. Henry. How now, wool-sack? what mutter you ?

Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You-Prince of Wales

P. Henry. Why, what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me that.

P. Henry. Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal. I call the coward? I'll see the hanged ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back. Call you that, backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack:-I am a rogue, if I have drunk to-day.

P. Henry. Oh villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drankst last.

Fal. All's one for that. (He drinks.) A plague on all cowards, still say I!

P. Henry. What's the matter?

Fal. What's the matter? here be four of us have taken a thousand pound this morning.

P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal. Where is it? taken from us, it is: a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Henry. What, a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have escaped by miracle. Į am eight times thrust through the doublet: four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a handsaw, ecce signum. (Shows his sword.) I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague on all cowards!

P. Henry. What, fought you with them all?

Fal. All? I know not what ye call all; but, if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no twolegged creature.

P. Henry. Pray heaven, you have not murdered some of them. Fal. Nay, that 's past praying for. I have peppered two of them two I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal; if I tell thee a lie, face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward. (Taking a position for fighting.) Here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me—

spit in my

3

P. Henry. What, four? thou saidst but two, even now. Fal. Four, Ial! I told thee four.-these four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Henry. Seven! why, there were but four, even now.
Fal. In buckram.

P. Henry. Ay, four in buckram suits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do so, for it is worth listening to.-These nine in buckram that I told thee of

P. Henry. So, two more already.

Fal. Their points being broken,-began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in foot and hand, and with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid.

P. Henry. Oh monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal. But, as ill-luck would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.

P. Henry. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou knotty-pated fool; thou greasy tallow-tub.

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

*P. Henry. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason; what sayest thou to this? Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Ful. What, upon compulsion ?-No. Were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason upon compulsion! If reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion.

P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back breaker, this huge bill of flesh

Fal. Away, you starveling, you cel-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you stock-fish! Oh for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck,

P. Henry. Well, breathe awhile and then to it again; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.-Poins and I saw you four set on four; you