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

King. He should go sing this at Court, I think.

Dick. I believe, if he's wise, he'll chuse to stay at home tho'.

Enter Peggy

Mil. What Wind blew you hither pray? You have a good Share of Impudence, or you would be asham'd to set your Foot within my House, methinks.

Peg. Asham'd I am, indeed, but do not call me impudent.

[Weeps.

Dick. Dear Father, suspend your Anger for the present; that she is here now is by my Direction, and to do me Justice.

Peg. To do that is all that is now in my Power; for as to myself, I am ruin'd past Redemption: My Character, my Virtue, my Peace, are gone: I am abandon'd by my Friends, despis'd by the World, and expos'd to Misery and Want.

King. Pray let me know the Story of your Misfortunes; perhaps it may be in my Power to do something towards redressing them.

Peg. That you may learn from him that I have wrong'd; but as for me, Shame will not let me speak, or hear it told.

[Exit.

King. She's very pretty.

Dick. O Sir, I once thought her an Angel; I lov'd her dearer than my Life, and did believe her Passion was the same for me: But a young Nobleman of this Neighbourhood happening to see her, her Youth and blooming Beauty presently struck his Fancy; a thousand Artifices were immediately employ'd to debauch and ruin her. But all his Arts were vain; not even the Promise of making her his Wife, could prevail upon her: In a little Time he found out her Love to me, and imagining this to be the Cause of her Refusal, he, by forg'd Letters, and feign'd Stories, contriv'd to make her believe I was just upon the Point of Marriage with another Woman. Possess'd with this Opinion, she, in a Rage, writes me Word, never to see her more; and, in Revenge, consented to her own Undoing. Not contented with this, nor easy while I was so near her, he brib'd one of his cast-off Mistresses to swear a Child to me, which she did: This was the Occasion of my leaving my Friends, and flying to London.

King. And how does she propose to do you Justice?

Dick. Why, the King being now in this Forest a hunting, we design to take some Opportunity of throwing ourselves at his Majesty's Feet, and complaining of the Injustice done us by this Noble Villain.

Mil. Ah, Dick! I expect but little Redress from such an Application. Things of this Nature are so common amongst the Great, that I am afraid it will only be made a Jest of.

King. Those that can make a Jest of what ought to be shocking to Humanity, surely deserve not the Name of Great or Noble Men.

Dick. What do you think of it, Sir? If you belong to the Court, you, perhaps, may know something of the King's Temper.

King. Why, if I can judge of his Temper at all, I think he would not suffer the greatest Nobleman in his Court, to do an Injustice to the meanest Subject in his Kingdom. But pray who is the Nobleman that is capable of such Actions as these?

Dick. Do you know my Lord Lurewell?

King. Yes.

Dick. That's the Man.

King. Well, I would have you put your Design in Execution. 'Tis my Opinion the King will not only hear your Complaint, but redress your Injuries.

Mil. I wish it may prove so.

Enter the Keepers, leading in the Courtiers

1 K. Hola! Cockle! Where are ye? Why, Man, we have nabb'd a Pack of Rogues here just in the Fact.

King. Ha, ha, ha! What, turn'd Highwaymen, my Lords? or Deer-stealers?

1 C. I am very glad to find your Majesty in Health and Safety.

2 C. We have run thro' a great many Perils and Dangers to Night, but the Joy of finding your Majesty so unexpectedly, will make us forget all we have suffer'd.

Mil. and Dick. What! is this the King?

King. I am very glad to see you, my Lords, I confess; and particularly you, my Lord Lurewell.

Lure. Your Majesty does me Honour.

King. Yes, my Lord, and I will do you Justice too; your Honour has been highly wrong'd by this young Man.

Lure. Wrong'd, my Liege!

King. I hope so, my Lord; for I wou'd fain believe you can't be guilty of Baseness and Treachery.

Lure. I hope your Majesty will never find me so. What dares this Villain say?

Dick. I am not to be frighted, my Lord. I dare speak Truth at any Time.

Lure. Whatever stains my Honour must be false.

King. I know it must, my Lord; yet has this Man, not knowing who I was, presum'd to charge your Lordship, not only with great Injustice to himself; but also with ruining an innocent Virgin whom he lov'd, and who was to have been his Wife; which, if true, were base and treacherous; but I know 'tis false, and therefore leave it to your Lordship to say what Punishment I shall inflict upon him, for the Injury done to your Honour.

Lure. I thank your Majesty. I will not be severe; he shall only ask my Pardon, and To-morrow Morning be oblig'd to marry the Creature he has traduc'd me with.

King. This is mild. Well, you hear your Sentence.

Dick. May I not have Leave to speak before your Majesty?

King. What can'st thou say?

Dick. If I had your Majesty's Permission, I believe I have certain Witnesses, which will undeniably prove the Truth of all I have accus'd his Lordship of.

King. Produce them.

Dick. Peggy!

Enter Peggy

King. Do you know this Woman, my Lord?

Lure. I know her, please your Majesty, by Sight, she is a Tenant's Daughter.

Peg. [Aside.] Majesty! What, is this the King?

Dick. Yes.

King. Have you no particular Acquaintance with her?

Lure. Hum – I have not seen her these several Months.

Dick. True, my Lord; and that is part of your Accusation; for, I believe, I have some Letters which will prove your Lordship once had a more particular Acquaintance with her. Here is one of the first his Lordship wrote to her, full of the tenderest and most solemn Protestations of Love and Constancy; here is another which will inform your Majesty of the Pains he took to ruin her; there is an absolute Promise of Marriage before he could accomplish it.

King. What say you, my Lord, are these your Hand?

Lure. I believe, please your Majesty, I might have had a little Affair of Gallantry with the Girl some Time ago.

King. It was a little Affair, my Lord; a mean Affair; and what you call Gallantry, I call Infamy. Do you think, my Lord, that Greatness gives a Sanction to Wickedness? Or that it is the Prerogative of Lords to be unjust and inhumane? You remember the Sentence which yourself pronounc'd upon this innocent Man; you cannot think it hard that it should pass on you who are guilty.

Lure. I hope your Majesty will consider my Rank, and not oblige me to marry her.

King. Your Rank! my Lord. Greatness that stoops to Actions base and low, deserts its Rank, and pulls its Honours down. What makes your Lordship Great? Is it your gilded Equipage and Dress? Then put it on your meanest Slave, and he's as great as you. Is it your Riches or Estate? The Villian that should plunder you of all, would then be great as you. No, my Lord, he that acts greatly, is the true Great Man. I therefore think you ought, in Justice, to marry her you thus have wrong'd.

Peg. Let my Tears thank your Majesty. But, alas! I am afraid to marry this young Lord; that would only give him Power to use me worse, and still encrease my Misery: I therefore beg your Majesty will not command him to do it.

King. Rise then, and hear me. My Lord, you see how low the greatest Nobleman may be reduced by ungenerous Actions. Here is, under your own Hand, an absolute Promise of Marriage to this young Woman, which, from a thorough Knowledge of your Unworthiness, she has prudently refus'd to make you fulfil. I shall therefore not insist upon it; but I command you, upon Pain of my Displeasure, immediately to settle on her Five hundred Pounds a Year.

Peg. May Heaven reward your Majesty's Goodness. 'Tis too much for me, but if your Majesty thinks fit, let it be settled upon this much-injured Man, to make some Satisfaction for the Wrongs which have been done him. As to myself, I only sought to clear the Innocence of him I lov'd and wrong'd, then hide me from the World, and die forgiven.

Dick. This Act of generous Virtue cancels all past Failings; come to my Arms, and be as dear as ever.

Peg. You cannot sure forgive me!

Dick. I can, I do, and still will make you mine.

Peg. O! why did I ever wrong such generous Love!

Dick. Talk no more of it. Here let us kneel, and thank the Goodness which has made us blest.

King. May you be happy.

Mil. [Kneels.] After I have seen so much of your Majesty's Goodness, I cannot despair of Pardon, even for the rough Usage your Majesty receiv'd from me.

[The King draws his Sword, the Miller is frighted, and rises up, thinking he was going to kill him

What have I done that I should lose my Life?

King. Kneel without Fear. No, my good Host, so far are you from having any thing to pardon, that I am much your Debtor. I cannot think but so good and honest a Man will make a worthy and honourable Knight, so rise up, Sir John Cockle: And, to support your State, and in some sort requite the Pleasure you have done us, a Thousand Marks a Year shall be your Revenue.

Mil. Your Majesty's Bounty I receive with Thankfulness; I have been guilty of no Meanness to obtain it, and hope I shall not be obliged to keep it upon base Conditions; for tho' I am willing to be a faithful Subject, I am resolv'd to be a free and an honest Man.

King. I rely upon your being so: And to gain the Friendship of such a one, I shall always think an Addition to my Happiness, tho' a King.

Worth, in whatever State, is sure a Prize

Which Kings, of all Men, ought not to despise;

By selfish Sycophants so close besieg'd,

'Tis by meer Chance a worthy Man's oblig'd:

But hence, to every Courtier be it known,

Virtue shall find Protection from the Throne.

FINIS

1

Leo Hughes, A Century of English Farce (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956), 126.

2

The London Stage 1660-1800: Part 3: 1729-1747, ed. Arthur H. Scouten (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1961), 457.

3

Ibid., 458.

4

Ralph Straus, Robert Dodsley: Poet, Publisher and Playwright (London: John Lane, 1910), 35.

5

Jean B. Kern, Dramatic Satire in the Age of Walpole, 1720-1750 (Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1976), 149.

6

Allardyce Nicoll, A History of English Drama 1660-1900, 6 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1955-60), 2:204.

7

For a survey of attempts to characterize sentimental drama, see Arthur Sherbo, English Sentimental Drama (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1957).

8

John Loftis, The Politics of Drama in Augustan England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963), 116-17.

9

Laura Brown, English Dramatic Form, 1660-1760: An Essay in Generic History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), 148.

10

London Stage: Part 3, 635.

11

Here her Maid enters and delivers a Box, from which the Lady pulls out a dead Dog, kissing it, and weeping. Lucy too pretends great Sorrow, but turning aside bursts out a Laughing, and cries, "She little thinks I poison'd it."