Wild Oats Part 8

_John._ What sort of a gentleman is he?

_Land._ Oh; a rum sort of a gentleman; I suspect he's one of the players.

_John._ True; Sam said it was some player's people coaxed him away from Portsmouth school. It must be the 'squire--show me where he's moored, my old purser. [_Exit, singing, and_ LANDLORD _following_.

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 G.o.ds may groan, and ladies drawl, "La, what an awkward creature!" But should I top my part, then shall G.o.ds applaud, and ladies sigh, "The charming fellow!" and treasurers smile upon me, as they count the s.h.i.+ning 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 s.h.i.+llings! [_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 G.o.ddess 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.