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didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how it turned out just as he said, for he beat all natur for guessing right. N. Then you feel happy, and satisfied with what you
have done for your country, and what she has done for you?
Сар. Why, Lord bless you, if I hadn't left one of my legs at Yorktown, I would'nt have touched a stiver of the States' money, and as it is, I am so old, that I shall not need it long. You must know, I long to see the gineral again, for if he don't hate long stories as bad as I do, I shall tell him all about America, you see, for it beats all natur how things have changed since he left us.
SIR FRANCIS WRONGHEAD-MANLY.-Cibber.
Manly. Sir Francis, your servant.
Sir F. Troth! all as busy as bees; I have been on the wing ever since eight o'clock this morning.
Man. By your early hour, then, I suppose you have been making your court to some of the great men.
Sir F. Why, faith! you have hit it, sir. I was advised to lose no time; so I e'en went straight forward to one great man I had never seen in all my life before.
Man. Right! that was doing business; but who had you got to introduce you ?
Sir F. Why, nobody; I remember I had heard a wise man say,-My son, be bold—so troth! I introduced myself. Man. As how, pray?
Sir F. Why, thus, look ye,--Please your lordship, says I, I am Sir Francis Wronghead, of Bumper Hall, and member of parliament for the borough of Guzzledown. Sir, your humble servant, says my lord; thof I have not the honor to know your person, I have heard you are a very honest gentleman, and I am glad your borough has made choice of so worthy a representative ; and so, says he, Sir Francis, have you any service to command me? Naw, cousin, these last words, you may be sure, gave me no small encouragement. And thof I know, sir, you have no extraordinary opinion of my parts, yet I believe you won't
that I missed it naw! Man. Well, I hope I shall have no cause.
Sir F. So, when I found him so courteous—My lord, says I, I did not think to ha' troubled your lordship with business upon my first visit; but, since your lordship is pleased not to stand upon ceremony, why truly, says I, I think naw is as good as another time.
Man. Right! there you pushed him home.
Sir F. Ay, ay, I had a mind to let him see that I was none of your mealy-mouthed ones.
Man. Very good.
Sir F. So, in short, my lord, says I, I have a good estate but-a—it's a little awt at elbows; and, as I desire to serve my king as well as my country, I shall be very willing to accept a place at court.
Man. So this was making short work on't.
Sir F. Ay, ay! I shot him flying, cousin : some of your hawf-witted ones, naw, would ha' hummed and hawed, and dangled a month or two after him, before they durst open
their mouths about a place, and, mayhap, not ha' got it at last neither.
Man. Oh, I'm glad your so sure on't.
Sir F. You shall hear, cousin. Sir Francis, says my lord, pray what sort of a place may you ha' turned your thoughts upon ? My lord, says I, beggars must not be choosers; but ony place, says I, about a thousand a year, will be well enough to be doing with, till something better falls in,-for I thowght it would not look well to stond haggling with him at first.
Man. No, no, your business was to get footing any way.
Sir F. Right! ay, there's it! ay, cousin, I see you know the world.
Man. Yes, yes, one sees more of it every day.-Well, but what said niy lord to all this?
Sir F. Sir Francis, says he, I shall be glad to serve you any way that lies in my power; so he gave me a squeeze by the hand, as much as to say, give yourself no trouble—I'll do your business; with that he turned himself abawt to somebody with a colored ribbon across here, that looked, in my thowghts, as if he came for a place too.
Man. Ha! so, upon these hopes you are to make your fortune!
Man. Oh, no, I have not the least doubt about it; for just as you
have done, I made my fortune ten years ago.
Man. Nor I neither, upon my faith, cousin. But you, perhaps, may have better fortune ; for I suppose my lord has heard of what importance you were in the debate to-day. You have been since down at the house, I presume.
Sir F. Oh, yes! I would not neglect the house for ever so much.
Man. Well, and pray what have they done there?
Sir F. Why, troth! I can't well tell you what they have done; but I can tell you what I did, and I think pretty well in the main, only I happened to make a little mistake at last, indeed.
Man. How was that?
Sir F. Why, they were all got there into a sort of puzzling debate about the good of the nation—and I were always for that, you know—but, in short, the arguments were so long-winded on both sides, that waunds! I did not well understand um: howsomever I was convinced, and so resolved to vote right, according to my conscience; so, when they came to put the question, as they call it I don't know how 'twas—but I doubt I cried ay! when I should ha' cried no!
Man. How came that about?
Sir F. Why, by a mistake, as I tell you ; for there was a good-humored sort of a gentleman, one Mr. Totherside, I think they call him, that sat next me, as soon as I had cried ay! gives me a hearty shake by the hand. Sir, says he, you are a man of honor, and a true Englishman; and I should be proud to be better acquainted with you—and so, with that he takes me by the sleeve, along with the crowd into the lobby—so I knew nowght—but odds-flesh! I was got on the wrong side the post —for I were told, afterwards, I should have staid where I was.
Man. And so, if you had not quite made your fortune before, you have clinched it now! Ah, thou head of the Wrongheads! (A side.)
Sir F. Odso! here's my lady come home at last. I hope, cousin, you will be so kind as to take a family supper with us?
Man. Another time, Sir Francis; but to-night I am engaged.
King. (Enters alone wrapped in a cloak.) No, no, this can be no public road, that's certain. I have lost my way undoubtedly. Of what advantage is it now to be a king. · Night shows me no respect; I cannot see better, nor walk so well as another
When a king is lost in a wood, what is he more than other men.
His wisdom knows not which is north and
which is south; his power a beggar's dog would bark at, and
(Enter the miller.)
Miller. Come, come, sirrah, confess; you have shot one of the king's deer, hav'nt you ?
King. No, indeed ; I owe the king more respect. I heard a gun go off, to be sure, and was afraid some robbers might have been near.
Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray who are you? What's your name?
Miller. Name! ay, name. You have a name, hav'nt you ? Where do you come from? What is your business here?
King. These are questions I have not been used to, honest
Miller. May be so; but they are questions no honest man would be afraid to answer; so if you can give no better account of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along with me, if you please.
King. With you! what authority have you to
Miller. The king's authority, if I must give you an account. Sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one of his majesty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood, and I will let no suspicious fellow pass this way unless he can give a better account of himself than you have done, I promise you.
King. Very well, sir, I am very glad to hear the king has so good an officer; and since I find you have his authority, I will give you a better account of myself, if you will do me the savor to hear it.
Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe ; but let's hear what you can say for yourself.
King. I have the honor to belong to the king as well as you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, and the chase leading us to-day a great way from home, I am benighted in this wood, and have lost my way.
Miller. This does not sound well; if you have been a hunting, pray where is your horse ?
King. I have tired my horse so that he lay down under me, and I was obliged to leave him.
Miller. If I thought I might believe this now. King. I am not used to lie, honest man. Miller. What, do you live at court, and not lie? that's a likely story, indeed! King. Be that as it will, I speak truth now,
assure you; and to convince you of it, if you will attend me to Nottingham, or give me a night's lodging in your house, here is something to pay you for your trouble, (Offering money) and if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morning to your utmost desire.
Miller. Ay, now I ain convinoed you are a courtier; here is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise for to-morrow,
both in a breath. Here, take it again, John Cockle is no courtier. He can do what he ought without a bribe.
King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must own, and I should be glad, methinks, to be further acquainted with thee.
Miller. Prithee, don't thee and thou me at this rate. I suppose I am as good a man as yourself, at least.
King. Sir, I beg pardon.
Miller. Nay, I am not angry, friend; only I don't love to be too familiar with you until I am satisfied as to your honesty.
King. You are right. But what am I to do?
Miller. You may do what you please. You are twelve miles from Nottingham, and all the way through this thick wood; but if you are resolved upon going thither to-night, I will put you in the road and direct you the best I can, or if you
entertainment as a miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay all night, and in the morning I will go with you myself.
King. And cannot you go with me to-night?
Miller. I would not go with you to-night if you were the king himself. King. Then I must go with
I think. (Enter a courtier in haste.) Courtier. Ah! is your majesty safe? We have hunted the forest over to find you.
Miller. How are you the king! (Kneels.) Your majesty will pardon the ill-usage you have received. (The King draws his sword.) His majesty surely will not kill a servant for doing his duty too faithfully.