_Here the_ TAILOR _walks round_, _accompanied by the_ SQUIRE’S SON. _This form is observed after each subsequent introduction_, _all the new comers taking apart_. The next I do call in, The prodigal son is he; By spending of his gold He’s come to poverty. But though he all has spent, Again he’ll wield the plow, And sing right merrily As any of us now. {177} Next comes a skipper bold, He’ll do his part right weel— A clever blade I’m told As ever pozed a keel. He is a bonny lad, As you must understand; It’s he can dance on deck, And you’ll see him dance on land. To join us in this play Here comes a jolly dog, Who’s sober all the day— If he can get no grog. But though he likes his grog, As all his friends do say, He always likes it best When other people pay. Last I come in myself, The leader of this crew; And if you’d know my name, My name it is ‘True Blue.’ _Here the_ BESSY _gives an account of himself_. My mother was burnt for a witch, My father was hanged on a tree, And it’s because I’m a fool There’s nobody meddled wi’ me. _The dance now commences_. _It is an ingenious performance_, _and the swords of the actors are placed in a variety of graceful positions_, _so as to form stars_, _hearts_, _squares_, _circles_, _&c. &c._ _The dance is so elaborate that it requires frequent rehearsals_, _a quick eye_, _and a strict adherence to time and tune_. _Before it concludes_, _grace and elegance have given place to disorder_, _and at last all the actors are seen fighting_. _The_ PARISH CLERGYMAN _rushes in to prevent bloodshed_, _and receives a death-blow_. _While on the ground_, _the actors walk round the body_, _and sing as follows_, _to a slow_, _psalm-like tune_:— Alas! our parson’s dead, And on the ground is laid; Some of us will suffer for’t, Young men, I’m sore afraid. I’m sure ’twas none of me, I’m clear of _that_ crime; ’Twas him that follows me That drew his sword so fine. I’m sure it was _not_ me, I’m clear of the fact; ’Twas him that follows me That did this dreadful act. I’m sure ’twas none of me, Who say’t be villains all; For both my eyes were closed When this good priest did fall. _The_ BESSY _sings_— Cheer up, cheer up, my bonny lads, And be of courage brave, We’ll take him to his church, And bury him in the grave. _The_ CAPTAIN _speaks in a sort of recitative_— Oh, for a doctor, A ten pound doctor, oh. _Enter_ DOCTOR. _Doctor_. Here I am, I. _Captain_. Doctor, what’s your fee? _Doctor_. Ten pounds is my fee! But nine pounds nineteen shillings eleven pence three farthings I will take from thee. _The Bessy_. There’s ge-ne-ro-si-ty! _The_ DOCTOR _sings_—