If you should hiss, he swears he'll hiss as high,
And, like a culprit, join the hue-and-cry.
If cruel men are still averse to spare

These scenes, they fly for refuge to the fair.
Though with a ghost our comedy be heighten'd,
Ladies, upon my word, you shan't be frighten'd;
O, 'tis a ghost that scorns to be uncivil,
A well-spread, lusty, jointure-hunting devil;
An am'rous ghost, that's faithful, fond, and true,
Made up of flesh and blood-as much as you.
Then every evening come in flocks, undaunted,
We never think this house is too much haunted.

VOL. II.

THE DRUMMER,

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

SIR GEORGE TRUMAN.

TINSEL.

FANTOME, the Drummer.

VELLUM, Sir George Truman's steward.

BUTLER.

COACHMAN.

GARDENER.

WOMEN.

LADY TRUMAN.

ABIGAIL.

THE DRUMMER.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

A great hall.

Enter the BUTLER, COACHMAN, and GARDENER.

BUT. There came another coach to town last night, that brought a gentleman to inquire about this strange noise we hear in the house. This spirit will bring a power of custom to the George-If so be he continues his pranks, I design to sell a pot of ale, and set up the sign of the Drum.

COACH. I'll give madam warning, that's flat—I've always lived in sober families. I'll not disparage myself to be a servant in a house that is haunted.

GARD. I'll e'en marry Nell, and rent a bit of ground of my own, if both of you leave madam; not but that madam's a very good woman-if Mrs. Abigail did not spoil hercome, here's her health.

BUT. It's a very hard thing to be a butler in a house that is disturbed. He made such a racket in the cellar last night, that I'm afraid he'll sour all the beer in my barrels.

COACH. Why then, John, we ought to take it off as fast as we can here's to you. He rattled so loud under the tiles last night, that I verily thought the house would have fallen over our heads. I durst not go up into the cockloft this morning, if I had not got one of the maids to go along with me.

GARD. I thought I heard him in one of my bedpostsI marvel, John, how he gets into the house when all the gates are shut.

BUT. Why look ye, Peter, your spirit will creep you into an augre-hole :-he'll whisk ye through a keyhole, without so much as justling against one of the wards.

COACH. Poor madam is mainly frighted, that's certain, and verily believes 'tis my master that was killed in the last campaign.

BUT. Out of all manner of question, Robin, 'tis sir George. Mrs. Abigail is of opinion it can be none but his honour; he always loved the wars, and you know was mightily pleased from a child with the music of a drum.

GARD. I wonder his body was never found after the battle.

BUT. Found! why, ye fool, is not his body here about the house? Dost thou think he can beat his drum without hands and arms?

COACH. Tis master as sure as I stand here alive, and I verily believe I saw him last night in the town-close. GARD. Ay! how did he appear?