SCENE III.

_A Room in the Inn._

LAMP _and_ TRAP [_discovered drinking._]

_Trap._ This same Farmer Gammon seems a surly spark.

_Lamp._ No matter. His barn will hold a good thirty pounds, and if I can but engage this young fellow, this Rover, he'll cram it every night he plays. He's certainly a devilish good actor. Now, Trap, you must enquire out a carpenter, and be brisk about the building. I think we shall have smart business, as we stand so well for pretty women, too. Oh, here he is!

_Trap._ Snap him at any terms.

_Enter_ ROVER.

_Rover._ Gentlemen, your most obedient--The waiter told me--

_Lamp._ Sir, to our better acquaintance. [_Fills._]

_Rover._ I don't recollect I have the honour of knowing--

_Lamp._ Mr. Rover, though I am a stranger to you, your merit is none to me.

_Rover._ Sir. [_Bows._]

_Lamp._ Yes, sir, my name is Lamp: I am manager of the company of comedians that's come down here, and Mr. Trap is my treasurer, engages performers, sticks bills, finds properties, keeps box-books, prompts play, and takes the town.

_Trap._ The most reputable company, and charming money getting circuit. [_Apart to Rover._]

_Rover._ Hav'n't a doubt, sir.

_Lamp._ Only suffer me to put up your name to play with us six nights, and twelve guineas are yours.

_Rover._ Sir, I thank you, and must confess your offer is liberal; but my friends have flattered me into a sort of opinion that encourages me to take a touch at the capital.

_Lamp._ Ah, my dear Mr. Rover, a London theatre is dangerous ground.

_Rover._ Why, I may fail, and gods may groan, and ladies drawl, "La, what an awkward creature!" But should I top my part, then shall gods applaud, and ladies sigh, "The charming fellow!" and treasurers smile upon me, as they count the shining guineas!

_Lamp._ But, suppose--

_Rover._ Ay, suppose the contrary, I have a certain friend here, in my coat pocket [_Puts his hand in his pocket._] Eh! zounds! where is--oh, the devil! I gave it to discharge my kind host--going for London, and not master of five shillings! [_Aside._] "Sir, to return to the twenty pounds."

_Lamp._ Twenty pounds. Well, let it be so.

_Rover._ Sir, I engage with you, call a rehearsal when and where you please, I'll attend.

_Lamp._ Sir, I'll step for the cast book, and you shall chuse your characters.

_Trap._ And, sir, I'll write out the play-bills directly. [_Exeunt_ LAMP _and_ TRAP.

_Rover._ Since I must remain here some time, and I've not the most distant hope of ever speaking to this goddess again, I wish I had inquired her name, that I might know how to keep out of her way.

_Enter_ JOHN DORY _and_ LANDLORD.

_Landl._ There's the gentleman.

_John._ Very well. [_Exit_ LANDLORD.] What cheer, ho, master squire?

_Rover._ Cheer, ho! my hearty!

_John._ The very face of his father! And an't you asham'd of yourself?

_Rover._ Why, yes, I am sometimes.

_John._ Do you know, if I had you at the gangways, I'd give you a neater dozen than ever you got from your schoolmaster's cat-a-nine tails.

_Rover._ You woudn't sure?

_John._ I would sure.

_Rover._ Indeed?--Pleasant enough! who is this genius?

_John._ I've dispatch'd a shallop to tell Lady Amaranth you're here.

_Rover._ You havn't?

_John._ I have.

_Rover._ Now, who the devil's Lady Amaranth?

_John._ I expect her chariot every moment, and when it comes, you'll get into it, and I'll get into it, and I'll set you down genteely at her house; then I'll have obeyed my orders, and I hope your father will be satisfied.

_Rover._ My father! who's he pray?

_John._ Pshaw! leave off your fun, and prepare to ask his pardon.

_Rover._ Ha, ha, ha! Why, my worthy friend, you are totally wrong in this affair. Upon my word I'm not the person you take me for. [_Going._]

_John._ You don't go, though they've got your name down in the stage coach book, Mr. Thunder.

_Rover._ Mr. Thunder! stage coach book! [_Pauses._] ha, ha, ha! This must be some curious blunder.

_John._ Oh! my lad, your father, Sir George, will change your note.

_Rover._ He must give me one first. Sir George! then my father is a knight, it seems; ha, ha, ha! very good, faith! 'pon my honour, I am not the gentleman that you think me.

_John._ I ought not to think you any gentleman for giving your honour in a falsehood. Oh! them play actors you went amongst have quite spoiled you. I wish only one of 'em would come in my way. I'd teach 'em to bring a gentleman's son tramboozing about the country.

_Enter_ WAITER.

_Waiter._ Her ladyship's chariot's at the door, and I fancy it's you, sir, the coachman wants.

_John._ Yes, it's me. I attend your honour.

_Rover._ Then you insist on it that I am--

_John._ I insist on nothing, only you shall come.

_Rover._ Indeed! Shall! Shall is a word don't sound over agreeable to my ears.

_John._ Does a pretty girl sound well to your ear?

_Rover._ "More music in the clink of her horses' hoofs than twenty hautboys." Why, is this Lady Thing-o-me pretty?

_John._ Beautiful as a mermaid, and stately as a ship under sail.

_Rover._ Egad! I've a mind to humour the frolic--Well, well, I'll see your mermaid. But then on the instant of my appearance the mistake must be discovered. [_Aside._] Harkye, is this father of mine you talk of at this lady's?

_John._ No: your father's in chase of the deserters. I find he's afraid to face the old one, so, if I tell him, he won't go with me. [_Aside._] No, no, we shan't see him in a hurry.

_Rover._ Then I'll venture. Has the lady ever seen me?

_John._ Psha! none of your jokes, man; you know, that her ladyship, no more than myself, has set eyes upon you since you was the bigness of a rumbo canakin.

_Rover._ The choice is made. I have my Ranger's dress in my trunk: "Cousin of Buckingham, thou sage grave man!"

_John._ What?

_Rover._ "Since you will buckle fortune on my back, to bear her burden, whether I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load; but if black scandal, or foul faced"----

_John._ Black! my foul face was as fair as yours before I went to sea.

_Rover._ "Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me."

_John._ Man, don't stand preaching parson Sacks--come to the chariot.

_Rover._ Ay, to the chariot! "Bear me, Bucephalus, among the billows,--hey! for the Tygris!" [_Exeunt._

ACT THE THIRD.