DRAMATIS PERSONAE

SCENE I.

A Public House on a Heath: over the Door the Sign of the Red
Cow; and the Name of “DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY."

Enter DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY and DAN, from the House. DAN opening
the outward Shutters of the House.

Dennis. A pretty blustratious night we have had! and the sun peeps through the fog this morning, like the copper pot in my kitchen. Devil a traveller do I see coming to the Red Cow.

Dan. Na, measter! nowt do pass by here, I do think, but the carrion crows.

Dennis. Dan; think you, will I be ruin’d?

Dan. Ees; past all condemption. We be the undonestest family in all Cornwall. Your ale be as dead as my grandmother; mistress do set by the fire, and sputter like an apple a-roasting; the pigs ha’ gotten the measles; I be grown thinner nor an old sixpence; and thee hast drank up all the spirity liquors.

Dennis. By my soul, I believe my setting up the Red Cow, a week ago, was a bit of a Bull! but that’s no odds. Haven’t I been married these three months? and who did I marry?

Dan. Why, a waddling woman, wi’ a mulberry feace.

Dennis. Have done with your blarney, Mr. Dan. Think of the high blood in her veins, you bog trotter.

Dan. Ees; I always do, when I do look at her nose.

Dennis. Never you mind Mrs. Brulgruddery’s nose. Was’nt she fat widow to Mr. Skinnygauge, the lean exciseman of Lestweithel? and did’nt her uncle, who is fifteenth cousin to a Cornish Baronet, say he’d leave her no money, if he ever happen’d to have any, because she had disgraced her parentage, by marrying herself to a taxman? Bathershan, man, and don’t you think he’ll help us out of the mud, now her second husband is an Irish jontleman, bred and born?

Dan. He, he! Thee be’st a rum gentleman.

Dennis. Troth, and myself, Mr. Dennis Brulgruddery, was brought up to the church.

Dan. Why, zure!

Dennis. You may say that, I open’d the pew doors, in Belfast.

Dan. And what made ’em to turn thee out o’the treade?

Dennis. I snored in sermon time. Dr. Snufflebags, the preacher, said I woke the rest of the congregation. Arrah, Dan, don’t I see a tall customer stretching out his arms in the fog?

Dan. Na; that be the road-post.

Dennis. ’Faith, and so it is. Och! when I was turn’d out of my snug birth at Belfast, the tears ran down my eighteen year old cheeks, like buttermilk.

Dan. Pshaw, man! nonsense! Thee’dst never get another livelihood by crying.

Dennis. Yes, I did; I cried oysters. Then I pluck’d up what’s that? a customer!

Dan. [Looking out.] Na, a donkey.

Dennis. Well, then I pluck’d up a parcel of my courage, and I carried arms.

Dan. Waunds! what, a musket?

Dennis. No; a reaping hook. I cut my way half through England: till a German learn’d me physic, at a fair in Devonshire.

Dan. What, poticary’s stuff?

Dennis. I studied it in Doctor Von Quolchigronck’s booth, at Plympton. He cured the yellow glanders, and restored prolification to families who wanted an heir. I was of mighty use to him as an assistant.

Dan. Were you indeed!

Dennis. But, somehow, the doctor and I had a quarrel; so I gave him something, and parted.

Dan. And what didst thee give him, pray?

Dennis. I gave him a black-eye; and set up for myself at Lestweithel; where Mr. Skinnygauge, the exciseman, was in his honeymoon. Poor soul! he was my patient, and died one day: but his widow had such a neat notion of my subscriptions, that in three weeks, she was Mrs. Brulgruddery.

Dan. He, he! so you jumped into the old man’s money?

Dennis. Only a dirty hundred pounds. Then her brother-in-law, bad luck to him! kept the Red Cow, upon Muckslush Heath, till his teeth chatter’d him out of the world, in an ague.

Dan. Why, that be this very house.

Dennis. Ould Nick fly away with the roof of it! I took the remainder of the lease, per advice of my bride, Mrs. Brulgruddery: laid out her goodlooking hundred pound for the furniture, and the goodwill; bought three pigs, that are going into a consumption; took a sarvingman

Dan. That’s I. I be a going into a consumption too, sin you hired me.

Dennis. And devil a soul has darken’d my doors for a pot of beer since I have been a publican.

Dan. See! See, mun, see! yon’s a traveller, sure as eggs! and a coming this road.

Dennis. Och, hubbaboo! a customer, at last! St. Patrick send he may be a pure dry one! Be alive, Dan, be alive! run and tell him there’s elegant refreshment at the Red Cow.

Dan. I will Oh, dang it, I doesn’t mind a bit of a lie.

Dennis. And harkye: say there’s an accomplish’d landlord.

Dan. Ees and a genteel waiter; but he’ll see that.

Dennis. And, Dan; sink that little bit of a thunder storm, that has sour’d all the beer, you know.

Dan. What, dost take me for an oaf? Dang me, if he han’t been used to drink vinegar, he’ll find it out fast enow of himsel, Ise warrant un! [Exit.

Dennis. Wife! I must tell her the joyful news Mrs. Brulgruddery! my dear! Devil choak my dear! she’s as deaf as a trunk-maker Mrs. Brulgruddery!

Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY.

Mrs. Brul. And what do you want, now, with Mrs. Brulgruddery? What’s to become of us? tell me that. How are we going on, I shou’d like to know?

Dennis. Mighty like a mile-stone standing still, at this present writing.

Mrs. Brul. A pretty situation we are in truly!

Dennis. Yes; upon Muckslush Heath, and be damn’d to it.

Mrs. Brul. And, where is the fortune I brought you?

Dennis. All swallow’d up by the Red Cow.

Mrs. Brul. Ah! had you follow’d my advice, we shou’d never have been in such a quandary.

Dennis. Tunder and turf! didn’t yourself advise me to take this public house?

Mrs. Brul. No matter for that. I had a relation who always kept it. But, who advised you to drink out all the brandy?

Dennis. No matter for that. I had a relation who always drank it.

Mrs. Brul. Ah! my poor dear Mr. Skinnygauge never brought tears into my eyes, as you do! [Crying.

Dennis. I know that I saw you at his funeral.

Mrs. Brul. You’re a monster!

Dennis. Am I? Keep it to yourself, then, my lambkin.

Mrs. Brul. You’ll be the death of me; you know you will.

Dennis. Look up, my sweet Mrs. Brulgruddery! while I give you a small morsel of consolation.

Mrs. Brul. Consolation indeed!

Dennis. Yes There’s a customer coming.

Mrs. Brul. [Brightening.] What!

Dennis. A customer. Turn your neat jolly face over the Heath, yonder. Look at Dan, towing him along, as snug as a cock salmon into a fish basket.

Mrs. Brul. Jimminy, and so there is! Oh, my dear Dennis! But I knew how it would be, if you had but a little patience. Remember, it was all by my advice you took the Red Cow.

Dennis. Och ho! it was, was it?

Mrs. Brul. I’ll run, and spruce myself up a bit. Aye, aye, I hav’n’t prophesied a customer to-day for nothing.
[Goes into the House.

Dennis. Troth, and it’s prophesying on the sure side, to foretell a thing when it has happen’d.

Enter DAN, conducting PEREGRINE PEREGRINE carrying a small
Trunk under his Arm.

Pereg. I am indifferent about accommodations.

Dan. Our’n be a comfortable parlour, zur: you’ll find it clean: for I wash’d un down mysen, wringing wet, five minutes ago.

Pereg. You have told me so, twenty times.

Dan. This be the Red Cow, zur, as you may see by the pictur; and here be measter he’ll treat ye in a hospital manner, zur, and show you a deal o’ contention.

Dennis. I’ll be bound, sir, you’ll get good entertainment, whether you are a man or a horse.

Pereg. You may lodge me as either, friend. I can sleep as well in a stable as a bedchamber; for travel has season’d me. Since I have preserved this [Half aside, and pointing to the Trunk under his Arm], I can lay my head upon it with tranquility, and repose any where.

Dennis. ’Faith, it seems a mighty decent, hard bolster. What is it stuff’d with, I wonder?

Pereg. That which keeps the miser awake money.

Dan. Wauns! all that money!

Dennis. I’d be proud, sir, to know your upholsterer he should make me a feather bed gratis of the same pretty materials. If that was all my own, I’d sleep like a pig, though I’m married to Mrs. Brulgruddery.

Pereg. I shall sleep better, because it is not my own.

Dennis. Your own’s in a snugger place, then? safe from the sharks of this dirty world, and be hang’d to ’em!

Pereg. Except the purse in my pocket, ’tis, now, I fancy, in a place most frequented by the sharks of this world.

Dennis. London, I suppose?

Pereg. The bottom of the sea.

Dennis. By my soul, that’s a watering place and you’ll find sharks there, sure enough in all conscience.

Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY.

Mrs. Brul. What would you chuse to take, sir, after your walk this raw morning? We have any thing you desire.

Dennis. Yes, we have any thing. Any thing’s nothing, they say.
[Aside.

Mrs. Brul. Dan, bustle about; and see the room ready, and all tidy; do you hear?

Dan. I wull.

Mrs. Brul. What would you like to drink, sir?

Pereg. O, mine is an accommodating palate, hostess. I have swallowed burgundy with the French, hollands with the Dutch, sherbet with a Turk, sloe juice with an Englishman, and water with a simple Gentoo.

Dan. [Going.] Dang me, but he’s a rum customer! It’s my opinion, he’ll take a fancy to our sour beer. [Exit into the House

Pereg. Is your house far from the sea-shore?

Mrs. Brul. About three miles, sir.

Pereg. So! And I have wandered upon the heath four hours, before day-break.

Mrs. Brul. Lackaday! has any thing happened to you, sir?

Pereg. Shipwreck that’s all.

Mrs. Brul. Mercy on us! cast away?

Pereg. On your coast, here.

Dennis. Then, compliment apart, sir, you take a ducking as if you had been used to it.

Pereg. Life’s a lottery, friend; and man should make up his mind to the blanks. On what part of Cornwall am I thrown?

Mrs. Brul. We are two miles from Penzance, sir.

Pereg. Ha! from Penzance! that’s lucky!

Mrs. Brul [Aside to DENNIS.] Lucky! Then he’ll go on, without drinking at our house.

Dennis. A hem! Sir, there has been a great big thunder storm at Penzance, and all the beer in the town’s as thick as mustard.

Pereg. I feel chill’d get me a glass of brandy.

Dennis. Och, the devil! [Aside.] Bring the brandy bottle for the jontleman, my jewel. [Aloud to his Wife.

Mrs. Brul. [Apart.] Dont you know you’ve emptied it, you sot, you!

Dennis. [Apart.] Draw a mug of beer I’ll palaver him.

Mrs. Brul. [Apart, and going.] Ah! if you would but follow my advice! [Exit into the House.

Dennis. You see that woman that’s gone sir, she’s my wife, poor soul! She has but one misfortune, and that’s a wapper.

Pereg. What’s that?

Dennis. We had as a neat a big bottle of brandy, a week ago and damn the drop’s left. But I say nothing she’s my wife, poor creature! and she can tell who drank it. Would’nt you like a sup of sour I mean, of our strong beer?

Pereg. Pshaw! no matter what. Tell me, is a person of the name of Thornberry still living in Penzance?

Dennis. Is it one Mr. Thornberry you are asking after?

Pereg. Yes. When I first saw him (indeed, it was the first time and the last), he had just begun to adventure humbly in trade. His stock was very slender, but his neighbours accounted him a kindly man and I know they spoke the truth. Thirty years ago, after half an hour’s intercourse, which proved to me his benevolent nature, I squeezed his hand, and parted.

Dennis. Thirty years! ’Faith, after half an hour’s dish of talk, that’s a reasonable long time to remember!

Pereg. Not at all; for he did me a genuine service; and gratitude writes the records in the heart, that, till it ceases to beat, they may live in the memory.

Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY, with a Mug of Beer.

Mrs. Brul. [Apart to DENNIS.] What have you said about the brandy bottle?

Dennis. [Apart.] I told him you broke it, one day.

Mrs. Brul. [Apart.] Ah! I am always the shelter for your sins.

Dennis. Hush! [To PERG.] You know, sir, I hem! I mention’d to you poor Mrs. Brulgruddery’s misfortune.

Pereg. Ha, ha! you did indeed, friend.

Mrs. Brul. I am very sorry, sir, but

Dennis. Be asy, my lambkin! the jontleman excuses it. You are not the first that has crack’d a bottle, you know. Here’s your beer, sir. [Taking it from his Wife.] I’m not of a blushing nation, or I’d be shame-faced to give it him. [Aside.] My jewel, the jontleman was asking after one Mr. Thornberry.
[Delaying to give the Beer.

Mrs. Brul. What! old Job Thornberry of Penzance, sir?

Pereg. The very same. You know him, then?

Mrs. Brul. Very well, by hearsay, sir. He has lived there upwards of thirty years. A very thriving man now, and well to do in the world; as others might be, too, if they would but follow my advice.
[To DENNIS.

Pereg. I rejoice to hear it. Give me the beer, Landlord; I’ll drink his health in humble malt, then hasten to visit him.

Dennis. [Aside.] By St. Patrick, then, you’ll make wry faces on the road. [Gives him the mug.

[As PEREGRINE is about to drink, a Shriek
is heard at a small Distance.

Pereg. Ha! the voice of a female in distress? Then ’tis a man’s business to fly to her protection.
[Dashes the Mug on the Ground. Exit.

Mrs. Brul. Wheugh! what a whirligigg! Why, Dennis, the man’s mad!

Dennis. I think that thing.

Mrs. Brul. He has thrown down all the beer, before he tasted a drop.

Dennis. That’s it: if he had chuck’d it away afterwards, I shou’dn’t have wonder’d.

Mrs. Brul. Here he comes again; and, I declare, with a young woman leaning on his shoulder.

Dennis. A young woman! let me have a bit of a peep. [Looking out.] Och, the crater! Och, the

Mrs. Brul. Heyday! I should’n’t have thought of your peeping after a young woman, indeed!

Dennis. Be asy, Mrs. Brulgruddery! it’s a way we have in Ireland. There’s a face!

Mrs. Brul. Well, and hav’n’t I a face, pray?

Dennis. That you have, my lambkin! You have had one these fifty years, I’ll bound for you.

Mrs. Brul. Fifty years! you are the greatest brute that ever dug potatoes.

Re-enter PEREGRINE, supporting MARY.

Pereg. This way. Cheer your spirits; the ruffian with whom I saw you struggling, has fled across the Heath; but his speed prevented my saving your property. Was your money, too, in the parcel with your clothes?

Mary. All I possessed in the world, sir; and he has so frighten’d me! Indeed. I thank you, sir; indeed I do!

Pereg. Come, come, compose yourself. Whither are you going, pretty one?

Mary. I must not tell, sir.

Pereg. Then whither do you come from?

Mary. No body must know, sir.

Pereg. Umph! Then your proceedings, child, are a secret?

Mary. Yes, sir.

Pereg. Yet you appear to need a friend to direct them. A heath is a rare place to find one: in the absence of a better, confide in me.

Mary. You forget that you are a stranger, sir.

Pereg. I always do when the defenceless want my assistance.

Mary. But, perhaps you might betray me, sir.

Pereg. Never by the honour of a man!

Mary. Pray don’t swear by that, sir! for, then, you’ll betray me, I’m certain.

Pereg. Have you ever suffered from treachery, then, poor innocence?

Mary. Yes, sir.

Pereg. And may not one of your own sex have been treacherous to you?

Mary. No, sir; I’m very sure he was a man.

Dennis. Oh, the blackguard!

Mrs. Brul. Hold your tongue, do!

Pereg. Listen to me, child. I would proffer you friendship, for your own sake for the sake of benevolence. When ages, indeed, are nearly equal, nature is prone to breathe so warmly on the blossoms of a friendship between the sexes, that the fruit is desire; but time, fair one, is scattering snow on my temples, while Hebe waves her freshest ringlets over yours. Rely, then, on one who has numbered years sufficient to correct his passions; who has encountered difficulties enough to teach him sympathy; and who would stretch forth his hand to a wandering female, and shelter her like a father.

Mary. Oh, sir! I do want protection sadly indeed! I am very miserable! [Weeping.

Pereg. Come, do not droop. The cause of your distress, perhaps, is trifling; but, light gales of adversity will make women weep. A woman’s tear falls like the dew that zéphyrs shake from roses. Nay, confide in me.

Mary. I will, sir; but [Looking round.

Pereg. Leave us a little, honest friends.

Dennis. A hem! Come, Mrs. Brulgruddery! let you and I pair off, my lambkin!

Mrs. Brul. [Going.] Ah! she’s no better than she should be, I’ll warrant her.

Dennis. By the powers, she’s well enough though, for all that.
[Exeunt DENNIS and MRS. BRUL. into the House.

Pereg. Now, sweet one, your name?

Mary. Mary, sir.

Pereg. What else?

Mary. Don’t ask me that, sir: my poor father might be sorry it was mentioned, now.

Pereg. Have you quitted your father, then?

Mary. I left his house at day-break, this morning, sir.

Pereg. What is he?

Mary. A tradesman in the neighbouring town, sir.

Pereg. Is he aware of your departure?

Mary. No, sir,

Pereg. And your mother ?

Mary. I was very little, when she died, sir.

Pereg. Has your father, since her death, treated you with cruelty?

Mary. He? Oh, bless him! no! he is the kindest father that ever breathed, sir.

Pereg. How must such a father be agonized by the loss of his child!

Mary. Pray, sir, don’t talk of that!

Pereg. Why did you fly from him?

Mary. Sir, I I but that’s my story, sir.

Pereg. Relate it, then.

Mary. Yes, sir. You must know, then, sir, that there was a young gentleman in this neighbourhood, that O dear, sir, I’m quite ashamed!

Pereg. Come, child, I will relieve you from the embarrassment of narration, and sum up your history in one word; love.

Mary. That’s the beginning of it, sir; but a great deal happen’d afterwards.

Pereg. And who is the hero of your story, my poor girl?

Mary. The hero of ? O, I understand he is much above me in fortune, sir. To be sure, I should have thought of that, before he got such power over my heart, to make me so wretched, now he has deserted me.

Pereg. He would have thought of that, had his own heart been generous.

Mary. He is reckon’d very generous, sir; he can afford to be so. When the old gentleman dies, he will have all the great family estate. I am going to the house, now, sir.

Pereg. For what purpose?

Mary. To try if I can see him for the last time, sir: to tell him I shall always pray for his happiness, when I am far away from a place which he has made it misery for me to abide in; and to beg him to give me a little supply of money, now I am pennyless, and from home, to help me to London; where I may get into service, and nobody will know me.

Pereg. And what are his reasons, child, for thus deserting you?

Mary. He sent me his reasons, by letter, yesterday, sir. He is to be married next week, to a lady of high fortune. His father, he says, insists upon it. I know I am born below him; but after the oaths we plighted, Heaven knows, the news was a sad, sad shock to me! I did not close my eyes last night; my poor brain was burning; and, as soon as day broke, I left the house of my dear father, whom I should tremble to look at, when he discover’d my story; which I could not long conceal from him.

Pereg. Poor, lovely, heart-bruised wanderer! O wealthy despoilers of humble innocence! splendid murderers of virtue; who make your vice your boast, and fancy female ruin a feather in your caps of vanity single out a victim you have abandoned, and, in your hours of death, contemplate her! view her, care-worn, friendless, pennyless; hear her tale of sorrows, fraught with her remorse, her want, a hard world’s scoffs, her parents’ anguish; then, if ye dare, look inward upon your own bosoms; and if they be not conscience proof what must be your compunctions! Who is his father, child?

Mary. Sir Simon Rochdale, sir, of the Manor-house, hard by.

Pereg. [Surprised.] Indeed!

Mary. Perhaps you know him, sir?

Pereg. I have heard of him; and, on your account, shall visit him.

Mary. Oh, pray, sir, take care what you do! if you should bring his son into trouble, by mentioning me, I should never, never forgive myself.

Pereg. Trust to my caution. Promise only to remain at this house, till I return from a business which calls me, immediately, two miles hence; I will hurry back to pursue measures for your welfare, with more hope of success, than your own weak means, poor simplicity, are likely to effect. What say you?

Mary. I hardly know what to say, sir you seem good, and I am little able to help myself.

Pereg. You consent, then?

Mary. Yes, sir.

Pereg. [Calling.] Landlord!

Enter DENNIS, from the Door of the House MRS.
BRULGRUDDERY following.

Dennis. Did you call, sir? Arrah, now, Mrs. Brulgruddery, you are peeping after the young woman yourself.

Mrs. Brul. I chuse it.

Pereg. Prepare your room, good folks; and get the best accommodation you can for this young person.

Dennis. That I will, with all my heart and soul, sir.

Mrs. Brul. [Sulkily.] I don’t know that we have any room at all, for my part.

Dennis. Whew! She’s in her tantrums.

Mrs. Brul. People of repute can’t let in young women (found upon a heath, forsooth), without knowing who’s who. I have learn’d the ways of the world, sir.

Pereg. So it seems: which too often teach you to over-rate the little good you can do in it: and to shut the door when the distressed entreat you to throw it open. But I have learnt the ways of the world too. [Taking out his Purse.] I shall return in a few hours. Provide all the comforts you can; and here are a couple of guineas, to send for any refreshments you have not in the house.
[Giving Money.

Dennis. Mighty pretty handsel for the Red Cow, my lambkin!

Mrs. Brul. A couple of guineas! Lord, sir! if I thought you had been such a gentleman! Pray, miss, walk in! your poor dear, little feet must be quite wet with our nasty roads. I beg pardon, sir; but character’s every thing in our business; and I never lose sight of my own credit.

Dennis. That you don’t till you see other people’s ready money.

Pereg. Go in, child. I shall soon be with you again.

Mary. You will return, then, sir?

Pereg. Speedily. Rely on me.

Mary. I shall, sir; I am sure I may. Heaven bless you, sir!

Mrs. Brul. This way, miss; this way! [Courtesying.
[Exeunt MARY and LANDLADY, into the House.

Dennis. Long life to your honour, for protecting the petticoats! sweet creatures! I’d like to protect them myself, by bushels.

Pereg. Can you get me a guide, friend, to conduct me to Penzance?

Dennis. Get you a guide! There’s Dan, my servant, shall skip before you over the bogs, like a grasshopper. Oh, by the powers! my heart’s full to see your generosity, and I owe you a favour in return: never you call for any of my beer, till I get a fresh tap.
[Exit into the House.

Pereg. Now for my friend, Thornberry; then hither again, to interest myself in the cause of this unfortunate: for which many would call me Quixote; many would cant out “shame!” but I care not for the stoics, nor the puritans. Genuine nature and unsophisticated morality, that turn disgusted from the rooted adepts in vice, have ever a reclaiming tear to shed on the children of error. Then, let the sterner virtues, that allow no plea for human frailty, stalk on to paradise without me! The mild associate of my journey thither shall be charity: and my pilgrimage to the shrine of mercy will not, I trust, be worse performed for having aided the weak, on my way, who have stumbled in their progress.

Enter DAN, from the House.

Dan. I be ready, zur.

Pereg. For what, friend?

Dan. Measter says you be a-going to Penzance; if you be agreeable, I’ll keep you company.

Pereg. Oh the guide. You belong to the house?

Dan. Ees, zur; Ise enow to do: I be head waiter and hostler: only we never have no horses, nor customers.

Pereg. The path I fancy, is difficult to find. Do you never deviate?

Dan. Na, zur, I always whistles.

Pereg. Come on, friend. It seems a dreary rout: but how cheerily the eye glances over a sterile tract, when the habitation of a benefactor, whom we are approaching to requite, lies in the perspective! [Exeunt.