Frank. Nay, sir, I can describe 'em,
Shall show them as familiar as their names :
The taller of the two at this time wears
His satin doublet white, but crimson lined ;
Hose of black satin, cloak of scarlet-

Thor. Warbeck,
Warbeck !-do you list to this, sir?
Car. Yes,

yes, I listen you; here's nothing to be heard.

Frank. The other's cloak branch’d velvet, black, velvet lined his suit. Thor. I have them already; Somerton, Somer

ton! Binal revenge, all this. Come, sir, the first work Is to pursue the murderers, when we have Remov'd these mangled bodies hence. Car. Sir, take that carcase there, and give me

this. I will not own her now; she's none of mine. Bob me off with a dumb show! no, I'll have life, This is my son, too, and while there's life in him, 'Tis half mine; take you half that silence fort.When I speak I look to be spoken to: Forgetful slut!

Thor. Alas! what grief may do now! Look, sir, I'll take this load of sorrow with me.

[Exit, with Susan in his arms.

• The other's cloak branch'd velvet,] i. e. with tufts, or tassels, dependent from the shoulders ; somewhat like the gowns worn at present by vergers, beadles, &c.

How do you,

Car. Ay, do, and I'll have this. sir?

Frank. O, very ill, sir.

Car. Yes, I think so; but ’tis well you can speak yet: There's no music but in sound; sound it must be. I have not wept these twenty years before, And that I guess was ere that girl was born; Yet now methinks, if I but knew the way, My heart's so full, I could weep night and day.

[Exit with FRANK.

SCENE III.—Before Sir Arthur's House.

Enter Sir ARTHUR CLARINGTON, WARBECK, and

SOMERTON.

Sir Ar. Come, gentlemen, we must all help to

grace
The nimble-footed youth of Edmonton,
That are so kind to call us up to-day
With an high Morrice.

War. I could wish it for the best, it were the worst now. Absurdity is, in my opinion, ever the best dancer in a morrice.

Som. I could rather sleep than see them.
Sir Ar. Not well, sir?

Som. Faith not ever thus leaden; yet I know no cause for't.

War. Now am I, beyond mine own condition, highly disposed to mirth.

Sir Ar. Well, you may have a morrice to help

both;

To strike

you

in a dump, and make him merry. Enter SAWGUT, the Fiddler, with the Morrice

dancers, fc.

Saw. Come, will you set yourselves in morrice-ray? the fore-bell, second-bell, tenor, and great bell; Maid Marian for the same bell. But where's the weather-cock now? the Hobby-horse?

1 Cl. Is not Banks come yet? What a spite 'tis! Sir Ar. When set you forward, gentlemen ?

1 Cl. We stay but for the hobby-horse, sir; all our footmen are ready.

Som. 'Tis marvel your horse should be behind

your foot.

2 Cl. Yes, sir, he goes further about; we can come in at the wicket, but the broad gate must be opened for him.

Enter Cuddy Banks, with the Hobby-horse,' fol

lowed by Dog.

Sir Ar. Oh, we staid for

sir. Cud. Only my horse wanted a shoe, sir; but we shall make you amends ere we part.

Sir Ar. Ay? well said; make 'em drink ere they begin.

Enter Servants with beer.

Cud. A bowl, I prithee, and a little for my

horse; he'll mount the better. Nay, give me, I must drink to him, he'll not pledge else [drinks]. Here, Hobby,--[holds the bowl to the hobby-horse]—I pray you: no? not drink! You see, gentlemen, we can but bring our horse to the water; he may choose whether he'll drink or no.-[Drinks again.]

Som. A good moral made plain by history. 1 Clown. Strike up, father Sawgut, strike up.

Saw. E’en when you will, children. [Cuddy mounts the hobby.]—Now in the name of—the best foot forward!—[Endeavours to play; but the fiddle gives no sound.]—How now! not a word in thy guts? I think, children, my instrument has caught cold on the sudden.

Cud. My ningle's knavery; black Tom's doing. [Aside.]

All. Why, what mean you, father Sawgut?

Cud. Why, what would you have him do? you hear his fiddle is speechless.

Saw. I'll lay mine ear to my instrument, that my poor fiddle is bewitched. I play'd The Flowers in May e'en now, as sweet as a violet; now 'twill not go against the hair: you see I can make no more music than a beetle of a cow-turd.

Cud. Let me see, father Sawgut; [takes the fiddle] say once you had a brave hobby-horse, that

you were beholden to. I'll play and dance too.Ningle, away with it.? [Gives it to the Dog, who plays the Morrice.] All. Ay, marry, sir!

THE DANCE.
Enter a Constable and Officers.
Con. Away with jollity! 'tis too sad an hour.
Sir Arthur Clarington, your own assistance,
In the king's name, I charge, for apprehension
Of these two murderers, Warbeck and Somerton.

Sir Ar. Ha! flat murderers ?
Som. Ha, ha, ha! this has awaken'd

my

melancholy. War. And struck my mirth down flat.-Mur

derers? Con. The accusation's flat against you, gentle

men.

Sir, you may be satisfied with this. [Shows his war

runt.] I hope you'll quietly obey my power; 'Twill make your cause the fairer.

Both. Oh, with all our hearts, sir.

Cud. There's my rival taken up for hangman's meat; Tom told me he was about a piece of villany.—Mates and morrice-men, you see here's no

2

Among the properties of our old stage was a roobe for to goe invisabel.” Whatever it was, operated as a conventional hint to our easy ancestors not to see the person who wore it.-Whether the urchin who played Tom bad any signal of this kind, can hardly be told ; but he frequently runs in and out, and bustles among the dramatis personæ without being discovered by them. In the present case, however, he was probably concealed from all but Cuddy by the long trappings of the hobby-horse..