Chapter 84

Staff like a_ London _Constable_.

_Enter_ Harlequin _riding in a Calash, comes through the Gate towards the Stage, dress’d like a Gentleman sitting in it. The_ Officer _lays hold of his Horse_.

_Off_. Hold, hold, Sir, you I suppose know the Customs that are due to this City of _Naples_, from all Persons that pass the Gates in Coach, Chariot, Calash, or _Siege Volant_.

_Har_. I am not ignorant of the Custom, Sir, but what’s that to me.

_Off_. Not to you, Sir! why, what Privilege have you above the rest?

_Har_. Privilege, for what, Sir?

_Off_. Why, for passing, Sir, with any of the before-named Carriages.

_Har_. Art mad?--Dost not see I am a plain Baker, and this my Cart, that comes to carry Bread for the Vice-Roy’s, and the City’s Use?--ha.

_Off_. Are you mad, Sir, to think I cannot see a Gentleman Farmer and a Calash, from a Baker and a Cart.

_Har_. Drunk by this Day--and so early too? Oh, you’re a special Officer? unhand my Horse, Sirrah, or you shall pay for all the Damage you do me.

_Off_. Hey Day! here’s a fine Cheat upon the Vice-Roy: Sir, pay me, or I’ll seize your Horse. [Har. _strikes him. They scuffle a little_. --Nay, and you be so brisk, I’ll call the Clerk from his Office. [_Calls_.]--Mr. Clerk, Mr. Clerk.

[_Goes to the Entrance to call the_ Clerk, _the mean time_ Har. _whips a Frock over himself, and puts down the hind part of the Chariot, and then ‘tis a Cart.

Enter_ Clerk.

_Cler_. What’s the matter here?

_Off_. Here’s a Fellow, Sir, will persuade me, his Calash is a Cart, and refuses the Customs for passing the Gate.

_Cler_. A Calash--Where?--I see only a Carter and his Cart.

[_The_ Officer _looks on him_.

_Off_. Ha, what a Devil, was I blind?

_Har_. Mr. Clerk, I am a Baker, that came with Bread to sell, and this Fellow here has stopt me this Hour, and made me lose the sale of my Ware; and being drunk, will out-face me I am a Farmer, and this Cart a Calash.

_Cler_. He’s in an Error, Friend, pass on.

_Har_. No, Sir, I’ll have satisfaction first, or the Vice-Roy shall know how he’s serv’d by drunken Officers, that are a Nuisance to a Civil Government.

_Cler_. What do you demand, Friend?

_Har_. Demand,--I demand a Crown, Sir.

_Off_. This is very hard--Mr. Clerk--If ever I saw in my Life, I thought I saw a Gentleman and a Calash.

_Cler_. Come, come, gratify him, and see better hereafter.

_Off_. Here, Sir,--if I must, I must. [_Gives him a Crown_.

_Cler_. Pass on, Friend. [_Ex_. Clerk.

[Har. _unseen, puts up the back of his Calash, and whips off his Frock, and goes to drive on. The_ Officer _looks on him, and stops him again_.

_Off_. Hum, I’ll swear it is a Calash--Mr. Clerk--Mr. Clerk, come back, come back. [_Runs out to call him. He changes as before_.

_Enter_ Officer _and_ Clerk.

--Come, Sir, let your own Eyes convince you, Sir.

_Cler_. Convince me, of what, you Sot?

_Off_. This is a Gentleman, and that a--ha-- [_Looks about on_ Har.

_Cler_. Stark drunk! Sirrah, if you trouble me at every Mistake of yours thus, you shall quit your Office.

_Off_. I beg your Pardon, Sir, I am a little in Drink I confess--a little blind and mad--Sir, --This must be the Devil, that’s certain.

[_The_ Clerk _goes out_.

[Har. _puts up his Calash again, and pulls off his Frock and drives out_.

--Well, now to my thinking, ‘tis as plain a Calash again as ever I saw in my Life, and yet I’m satisfy’d ‘tis nothing but a Cart.

[_Ex_.