ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
_A Road._
_Enter three_ RUFFIANS, _dressed as Sailors_.
_1st Ruff._ Well, now, what's to be done?
_2d Ruff._ Why, we've been long upon our shifts, and after all our tricks, twists, and turns, as London was then too hot for us, our tramp to Portsmouth was a hit.
_3d Ruff._ Ay; but since the cash we touched, upon pretending to be able bodied seamen, is now come to the last shilling, as we have deserted, means of a fresh supply to take us back to London, must be thought on.
_2d Ruff._ Ay, how to recruit the pocket without hazarding the neck.
_1st Ruff._ By an advertisement posted on the stocks yonder, there are collectors upon this road; thirty guineas are offered by the quaker lady, owner of the estate round here; I wish we could snap any straggler to bring before her. A quaker will only require a yea for an oath--we might sack these thirty guineas.
_2d Ruff._ Yes; but we must take care, if we fall into the hands of this gentleman that's in pursuit of us----'Sdeath, isn't that his man, the old boatswain?
_1st Ruff._ Don't run, I think we three are a match for him.
_2d Ruff._ Instantly put on your characters of sailors; we may get something out of him: a pitiful story makes such an impression on the soft heart of a true tar, that he'll open his hard hand, and drop you his last guinea--If we can but make him believe we were pressed, we have him; only mind me.
_Enter_ JOHN DORY.
_John._ To rattle my lantern, Sir George's temper now always blows a hurricane.
_2d Ruff._ What cheer? [_To_ JOHN.
_John._ Ha hoy!
_3d Ruff._ Bob, up with your speaking trumpet.
_2d Ruff._ Do you see, brother, this is the thing--
_Enter_ SIR GEORGE, _at the back, unperceived_.
_Sir Geo._ If these should be my deserters. [_Aside._
_1st Ruff._ We three hands, just come home after a long voyage, were pressed in the river, and without letting us see our friends, brought round to Portsmouth, and there we entered freely, cause why? We had no choice, then we run. We hear some gentleman is in chace of us, so as the shot are all out, we'll surrender.
_John._ Surrender! Oh then you've no shot left indeed--let's see.
[_Feels his pocket._] I hav'nt the loading of a gun about me now, and this same monsieur poverty is a bitter bad enemy.
_Sir Geo._ They are the deserters that I've been after. [_Aside._
_John._ Meet me in an hour's time in the little wood yonder; I'll raise a wind to blow you into safe latitude--keep out to sea, my master's the rock you'll certainly split upon.
_2d Ruff._ This is the first time we ever saw you; but we'll steer by your chart, for I never knew one seaman to betray another.
[_Exeunt_ RUFFIANS.
_Sir Geo._ Then they have been pressed--I can't blame them so much for running away.
_John._ Yes, Sir George would certainly hang them.
_Sir Geo._ I wouldn't, they shall eat beef, and drink the king's health, run and tell them so--stop, I'll tell them myself.
_John._ Why, now you are yourself, and a kind, good gentleman, as you used to be.
_Sir Geo._ Since these idle rogues are inclined to return to their duty, they shan't want sea store--take them this money--but hold--I'll meet them myself, and advise them as I would my children. [_Exeunt severally._
SCENE II.
_A Wood._
_Enter_ ROVER, _in his first clothes, greatly agitated, with pistols_.
_Rover._ Which way did Mr. Abrawang take? Dick Buskin, I think, has no suspicion of my intentions:--such a choleric spark will fight, I dare say. If I fall, or even survive this affair, I leave the field of love, and the fair prize, to the young gentleman I've personated, for I'm determined to see Lady Amaranth no more--Oh, here comes Abrawang.
_Enter_ SIR GEORGE.
_Sir Geo._ Now to relieve these foolish seagulls--they must be hovering about this coast--Ha! puppy unknown!--
_Rover._ You're the very man I was seeking.--You are not ignorant, Mr.
Abrawang--
_Sir Geo._ Mr. what?
_Rover._ You will not resign your title, ha, ha, ha! Oh, very well, I'll indulge you,--_Sir George Thunder_, you honoured me with a blow.
_Sir Geo._ Did it hurt you?
_Rover._ 'Sdeath! but let me proceed like a gentleman; as it's my pride to reject even favours, no man shall offer me an injury.
_Sir Geo._ Eh!
_Rover._ In rank we're equal.
_Sir Geo._ Are we faith? [_Smiling._] The English of all this is, we're to fight.
_Rover._ Sir, you have marked on me an indelible stain, only to be washed out by blood.