_Lamp._ But, my most gentle sir, I, and my treasurer, Trap, have trumpeted your fame ten miles round the country:--the bills are posted, the stage built, the candles booked, fiddles engaged; all on the tip-top of expectation. We should have to-morrow night an overflow, ay, thirty pounds. Dear, worthy sir, you wou'dn't go to ruin a whole community and their families that now depend only on the exertion of your brilliant talents. _Rover._ Eh! I never was uniform but in one maxim, that is, though I do little good, to hurt nobody but myself. _Lady Am._ Since thou hast promised, much as I prize my adherence to those customs in which I was brought up, thou shalt not sully thy honour by a breach of thy word. Play, if it can bring good to these people. _Rover._ Shall I? _Lady Am._ This falleth out well; for I have bidden all the gentry round unto my house warming, and these pleasantries may afford them a cheerful and innocent entertainment. _Rover._ True, my lady; your guests ar'n't quakers though you are, and when we ask people to our house, we study to please them, not ourselves. But if we do furbish a play or two, the muses sha'n't honour that churlish fellow's barn. No; the god, that illumines the soul of genius, should never visit the iron door of inhumanity. No Gammon's barn for me!-- _Lady Am._ Barn! no; that gallery shall be thy theatre; and, in spite of the grave doctrines of Ephraim Smooth, my friends and I will behold and rejoice in thy pranks, my pleasant cousin. _Rover._ My kind, my charming lady! Hey, brighten up, bully Lamp, carpenters, tailor, manager, distribute your box tickets for my lady's gallery.--"Come, gentle coz," "The actors are at hand, and by their show You shall know all That you are like to know." [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _The Inn._ _Enter_ HARRY, _and_ MIDGE. _Harry._ Though I went back to Portsmouth academy with a contrite heart, to continue my studies, yet, from my father's angry letter, I dread a woeful storm at our first meeting. I fancy the people at this inn don't recollect me; it reminds me of my pleasant friend, poor Jack Rover, I wonder where he is now. _Midge._ And brings to my memory a certain stray vaguing acquaintance of mine, poor Dick Buskin. _Harry._ Ha, ha, ha! Then I desire, sir, you'll turn Dick Buskin again out of your memory. _Midge._ Can't, sir. The dear, good-natur'd, wicked son of a----beg your honour's pardon. _Harry._ Oh, but Midge, you must, as soon as I'm dressed, step out and enquire whose house is this my father's at; I did not think he had any acquaintance in this part of the country. Sound what humour he's in, and how the land lies, before I venture in his presence. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ SIR GEORGE THUNDER, _agitated, and_ LANDLORD. _Sir Geo._ I can hear nothing of these deserters; yet, by my first intelligence, they'll not venture up to London. They must still be lurking about the country. Landlord, have any suspicious persons ever put in at your house?