PROLOGUE.

I

N this grave age, when comedies are few,
We crave your patronage for one that's new;
Though 'twere poor stuff, yet bid the author fair,
And let the scarceness recoinmend the ware.

Long have your ears been fill'd with tragic parts,
Blood and blank-verse have harden'd all your hearts;
If e'er you fimile, 'tis at some party strokes,
Round-heads and Wooden-shoes are standing jokes;
The fame conceit gives claps and hisses birth,
You're grown such politicians in your mirth!
For once we try (though'tis I own unsafe,)
To please you all and make both parties laugh.

Our author, anxious for his fame to-night,
And bashful in his first attempt to write,
Lies cautioufly obfcure and unreveal'd,
Like ancient actors in a mask conceal'd.
Cenfure, when no man knows who writes the play,
Were inuch good malice merely thrown away.
The mighty critics will not blast, for shame,
A raw young thing, who dares not tell his name:
Good natur'd judges will th' unknown defend,
And fear to blame, left they should hurt a friend:

Each

Each wit may praise it, for his own dear fake,
And hint he writ it, if the thing shou'd take.
But if you're rough, and use him like a dog,
Depend upon it---He'll remain incog.
If you shou'd hiss, he swears he'll hiss as high,
And, like a Culprit, join the hue-and-cry.

If cruel men are still averse to spare
These scenes, they fly for refuge to the fair.
Tho' with a ghost our comedy be heighten'd,
Ladies, upon my word, you shan't be frighten'd;
O, 'tis a ghoft that scorns to be uncivil,
A well-spread, lufty, jointure-hunting devil;
An am'rous ghost, that's faithful, fond and true,
Made up of flesh and blood
as much as you.
Then every evening come in flocks, undaunted,
We never think this house is too much haunted.

Dra

Vellum, Sir George Truman's Steward, Mr. Johnson.

THE

DRUMMER:

OR, THE

HAUNTED-HOUSE.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A GREAT HALL.

Enter the Butler, Coachman, and Gardiner.

T

BUTLER.

HERE came another coach to town last night, that brought a gentleman to enquire about this strange noise, we hear in the house. This spirit will bring a power of custom to the George-If fo be he continues his pranks, I design to sell a pot of ale, and set up the sign of the Drum.

COACHCOACΗΜΑΝ.

I'll give Madam warning, that's flat-I've always liv'd in fober families. I'll not disparage myself to be a servant in a house that is haunted.

GARDINER.

I'll e'en marry Nell, and rent a bit of ground of

my own, if both of you leave Madam; not but that Madam's a very good woman-if Mrs. Abigal did not spoil her-come, here's her health.

BUTLER.

It's a very hard thing to be a butler in a house, that is distur'd. He made such a racket in the cellar last night, that I'm afraid he'll four all the beer in my barrels. COACHMAN,

Why then John, we ought to take it off as fast as we can. Here's to you-He rattled so loud under the tiles last night, that I verily thought the house would have fallen over our heads. I durst not go up into the cock-loft this morning, if I had not got one of the maids to go along with me.

GARDINER.

I thought I heard him in one of my bed-posts-I marvel, John, how he gets into the house when all the gates are shut.

BUTLER.

Why look ye, Peter, your spirit will creep you into an augre-hole:-he'll whisk you through a key-hole, without so much as justling against one of the wards.

COACΗΜΑΝ.

Poor Madam is mainly frighted, that's certain, and verily believes 'tis my master that was kill'd in the last campaign.

BUTLER.

Out of all manner of question, Robin, 'tis Sir George. Mrs. Abigal is of opinion it can be none but his honour; he always lov'd the wars, and you know was mightily pleas'd from a child with the music of a drum GAR.