The Toy Shop (1735) The King and the Miller of Mansfield (1737) Part 5

_Mil._ You lie, I believe.

_King._ Lie! lie! How strange it seems to me to be talk'd to in this Stile. [_Aside._] Upon my Word I don't.

_Mil._ Come, come, Sirrah, confess; you have shot one of the King's Deer, have not you?

_King._ No indeed, I owe the King more Respect. I heard a Gun go off, indeed, and was afraid some Robbers might have been near.

_Mil._ I am not bound to believe this, Friend. Pray who are you? What's your Name?

_King._ Name!

_Mil._ Name! yes Name. Why you have a Name, have not you? Where do you come from? What is your Business here?

_King._ These are Questions I have not been us'd to, honest Man.

_Mil._ May be so; but they are Questions no honest Man would be afraid to answer, I think: So if you can give no better Account of your self, I shall make bold to take you along with me, if you please.

_King._ With you! What Authority have you to----

_Mil._ The King's Authority, if I must give you an Account, Sir. I am _John c.o.c.kle_, the Miller of _Mansfield_, one of his Majesty's Keepers in this Forest of _Sherwood_; and I will let no suspected Fellow pa.s.s this Way that cannot give a better Account of himself than you have done, I promise you.

_King._ I must submit to my own Authority. [_Aside._] Very well, Sir, I am 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 Favour to hear it.

_Mil._ It's more than you deserve, I believe; but let's hear what you can say for yourself.

_King._ I have the Honour 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 Chace leading us to Day a great Way from Home, I am benighted in this Wood, and have lost my Way.

_Mil._ 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 oblig'd to leave him.

_Mil._ If I thought I might believe this now.

_King._ I am not used to lie, honest Man.

_Mil._ 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 I a.s.sure you; and, to convince you of it, if you will attend me to _Nottingham_, if I am near it; or give me a Night's Lodging in your own House, here is something to pay you for your Trouble, and if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the Morning to your utmost Desire.

_Mil._ Ay, now I am convinc'd 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, and take this along with it----_John c.o.c.kle_ 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.

_Mil._ Thee! and Thou! Prythee don't thee and thou me; I believe I am as good a Man as yourself at least.

_King._ Sir, I beg your Pardon.

_Mil._ Nay, I am not angry, Friend, only I don't love to be too familiar with any-body, before I know whether they deserve it or not.

_King._ You are in the Right. But what am I to do?

_Mil._ You may do what you please. You are twelve Miles from _Nottingham_, and all the Way through this thick Wood; but if you are resolv'd upon going thither to Night, I will put you in the Road, and direct you the best I can; or if you will accept of such poor 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?

_Mil._ I would not go with you to Night if you was the King.

_King._ Then I must go with you, I think. [_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to the Town of_ Mansfield.

d.i.c.k _alone_.

Well, dear _Mansfield_, I am glad to see thy Face again. But my Heart aches, methinks, for fear this should be only a Trick of theirs to get me into their Power. Yet the Letter seems to be wrote with an Air of Sincerity, I confess; and the Girl was never us'd to lie till she kept a Lord Company. Let me see, I'll read it once more.

_Dear_ Richard,

_I am at last (tho' much too late for me) convinc'd of the Injury done to us both by that base Man, who made me think you false; he contriv'd these Letters, which I send you, to make me think you just upon the Point of being married to another, a Thought I could not bear with Patience, so aiming at Revenge on you, consented to my own Undoing. But for your own sake I beg you to return hither, for I have some Hopes of being able to do you Justice, which is the only Comfort of your most distrest but ever affectionate,_

PEGGY.

There can be no Cheat in this sure! The Letters she has sent are, I think, a Proof of her Sincerity. Well, I will go to her however: I cannot think she will again betray me: If she has as much Tenderness left for me, as, in spite of her Ill-usage, I still feel for her, I'm sure she won't. Let me see, I am not far from the House, I believe.

[_Exit._

_Scene changes to a Room._

PEGGY _and_ PHOEBE.

_Phoe._ Pray, Madam, make yourself easy.

_Peg._ Ah! _Phoebe_, she that has lost her Virtue, has with it lost her Ease, and all her Happiness. Believing, cheated Fool! to think him false.

_Phoe._ Be patient, Madam, I hope you will shortly be reveng'd on that deceitful Lord.

_Peg._ I hope I shall, for that were just Revenge. But will Revenge make me happy? Will it excuse my Falshood? Will it restore me to the Heart of my much-injur'd Love? Ah! no. That blooming Innocence he us'd to praise, and call the greatest Beauty of our s.e.x, is gone. I have no Charm left that might renew that Flame I took such Pains to quench.

[_Knocking at the Door._

See who's there. O Heavens 'tis he! Alas! that ever I should be asham'd to see the Man I love!

_Enter_ RICHARD, _who stands looking on her at a Distance, she weeping_.

_d.i.c.k._ Well, _Peggy_ (but I suppose you're Madam now in that fine Dress) you see you have brought me back; is it to triumph in your Falshood? or am I to receive the slighted Leavings of your fine Lord?

_Peg._ O _Richard_! after the Injury I have done you, I cannot look on you without Confusion: But do not think so hardly of me; I stay'd not to be slighted by him, for the Moment I discover'd his vile Plot on you, I fled his Sight, nor could he e'er prevail to see me since.