Classic Audiobook Collection - The Drummer, or, The Haunted House by Joseph Addison ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: October 30, 2023

The Drummer, or, The Haunted House by Joseph Addison audiobook. Genre: comedy In Joseph Addison's stage comedy The Drummer, or, The Haunted House, Lady Truman is trying to rebuild her life after devastating news: her husband, Sir George Truman, has been reported killed in battle, leaving her a wealthy widow in possession of a prized country estate. Grief, however, quickly becomes only one of her problems. Two persistent would-be husbands, the fashionable Mr. Tinsel and the theatrically melancholy Mr. Fantome, circle her household with competing plans to secure her fortune. Then the nights turn strange. A relentless, unseen drum begins to beat through the house after dark, unsettling servants, rousing rumors of a ghost, and throwing every courtship scheme into confusion. With the practical steward Vellum attempting to keep order and a colorful staff of household attendants caught between fear and opportunism, Lady Truman is pushed toward a desperate solution when a mysterious old man arrives, claiming he can put the disturbance to rest. Part satire, part haunted-house farce, Addison uses the phantom drumming to test courage, expose hypocrisy, and ask what people will believe when self-interest is at stake. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:04:58) Chapter 1 (00:33:47) Chapter 2 (00:55:12) Chapter 3 (01:17:27) Chapter 4 (01:41:16) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

preface of the drummer or the haunted house by joseph addison preface having recommended this play to the town and delivered the copy of it to the bookseller i think myself obliged to give some account of it it had been some years in the hands of the author and falling under my perusal i thought so well of it that i persuaded him to make a few additions and alterations to it and let it appear upon the stage i own i was very highly pleased with it and liked it the better, for the want of those studied similes and repartes which we who have writ before him have thrown into our plays, to indulge and gain upon a false taste that has prevailed for many years in the British theatre. I believe the author would have fallen into this way a little more than he has, had he, before the writing of it, been often present at theatrical representations, and observed the effect that such ornaments generally have upon the town. I was confirmed in my thoughts of the play by the opinion of better judges to whom, was communicated, who observed that the scenes were written very much after Molière's manner,

and that an easy and natural vein of humour ran through the hole. I do not question but the reader will discover this, and see many beauties that escape the audience, the touches being too delicate for every taste in a popular assembly. My brother sharers were of opinion, at the first reading of it, that it was like a picture in which the strokes were not strong enough to appear with advantage at a distance. As it is not in the common way of writing, the approbation was at first doubtful, but has risen every time it has been acted, and has given an opportunity in several of its parts for as just and good action as I ever saw on the stage. The reader will consider that I speak here as the patentee, for which reason I forbear being more particular in the character of this play, lest I should appear like one who cries up the wares of his own shop to draw in customers. Richard Steele

Dramatis Personé Sir George Truman Read by Larry Wilson TINSEL Read by Thomas Peter Phantam The Drama Read by

Son of the Exiles Vellum Sir George Truman Stewart Read by Todd The Butler Read by T.J. Burns Coachman read by Campbell Shelp.

Gardner read by Alan Mapstone. Lady Truman read by Beth Thomas. Abigail, read by Avayi. Stage directions, read by DeVora Allen. The prologue. In this grave age when comedies are few,

we crave your patronage for one that's new. Though to are poor stuff, yet bid the author fair and let the scarceness recommend the wear. long have your ears been filled with tragic parts blood and blank verse have hardened all your hearts if ere you smile tis at some party's strokes round heads and wooden shoes or standing jokes the same conceit gives claps and his's birth you're grown such politicians in your birth for once we try though tis i own unsafe to please you all and make both parties laugh the author anxious for his fame to-night and bashful in his first attempt to write lies cautiously obscure and unrevealed like ancient actors in a mask concealed since sure when no man knows who writes the play were much good malice merely thrown away the mighty critics will not blasts for shame a raw young thing who dares not tell his name good-natured judges will the unknown defend and fear to blame least they should hurt a friend each whit may praise it for his own dear sake and hint he writ it if the thing should take but if you're rough and use him like a dog depend upon it he'll remain in if you should hiss he swears he'll hiss as high and like a culprit join the hue and cry if cruel men are still averse despair these scenes they fly for refuge to the fair

though with a ghost our comedy is heightened ladies upon my word you shan't be frightened oh tis a ghost that scorns to be uncivil a well-spread lusty jointure hunting devil an amorous ghost that's faithful fond and true made up of flesh and blood as much as you then every evening come and flocks undaunted we never think this house is too much haunted End of preface. Act 1 of the drummer, or The Haunted House, by Joseph Addison. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Act 1. A Great Hall. Enter the butler, coachman, and gardener.

There came another coach to town last night that brought a gentleman to inquire about this strange noise we hear in the house. This spirit will bring a power of custom to the George. If so be he continues his pranks, I designed to sell a pot of ale and set up the sign of the drum. I'll give mad a morning. That's flat. I've always lived in sober families. I will not disparage myself to be a servant in a house that is haunted.

I'll eat marry now. and rent a bit of ground of me own if both of you leave madam. Not but that madame's a very good woman, if Mistress Abigail did not spoil her. Come, use her elf. It's a very hard thing to be a butler in a house that is disturbed. He made such a racket in the cellar last night that I'm afraid he'll sour all the beer in my barrels.

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. I thought I heard him in one of my bedposts. I marvel, John, how he gets into the house when all the gates are shut. Why, look ye, Peter, your spirit will creep you into an auger hole, he'll whisk you through a keyhole without so much as justling against one of the wards. Poor madam is mainly frightened, that's certain, and verily believes tis my master

that was killed in the last campaign. Out of all manner of question, Robin, tis Sir George. Mr. Sabagel is of the opinion it can be none but his honor. He always loved the wars, and you know, he was mightily pleased from a child with the music of a drum. I wonder his body was never found after the battle. Found? Why, ye fool, is not his body here about the house? Dost thou think he can beat his drum without hands and arms? To his master as sure as I stand here alive, and I verily believe I saw him last night in the town close.

Aye, how did he appear? Like a white horse. Foh, Robin. I tell you, I tell you, he has never appeared yet, but in the shape of the sound of a drum. This makes one almost afraid of one's own shadow. As I was walking from the stable-tether night without my lanthorn, I fell across a beam that lay in my way, and faith my heart was in my mouth.

I thought I had stumbled over a spirit. Thou mightest as well have stumbled over a straw. Why, a spirit, is such a little, little thing, that I have heard a man, who was a great scholar say, that he'll dance ye a Lancashire hornpipe on the point of a needle. As I sat in the pantry last night, count in my spoons, the candle methought burnt blue, and the spade bitch looked as if she saw something.

I, poor Kerr, she's almost frightened out of her wits. Oh, you're worrying you. She hears him many a time and often when we don't. My lady must have him laid. That's certain. Whatever it cost her. I fancy when one goes to market, one mightier of somebody that can make a spell.

Why may not the parson of our parish lay him? No, no, no, our parson cannot lay him. Why not he as well as another man? Why, ye fool? He is not qualified. He has not taken the oaths. Why do you think, John, that the spirit would take the law of him? Faith, I could tell you one way to drive him off. How's that?

I'll tell you immediately. Drinks. I fancy Mrs. Abigail might scold him out of the house. Aye, she has a tongue that would drown his drum, if anything could. Ff! This is all froth. You understand nothing of the matter. The next time it makes a noise, I'd tell you what ought to be done. I would have the steward speak Latin to it. I, that's what to do if the steward had but courage. There you have it. He's a fearful man. If I had as much learning as he, and I met the ghost, I'd tell him his own. But alack, what can one of us poor men do with a spirit that can neither write nor read?

Thou art always cracking and boasting, Peter. Thou dost not know what mischief it might do thee if such a silly dog as thee should offer to speak to it. For aught I know, he might flay thee alive and make parchment of thy skin to cover his drum with. A fiddlestick. Tell me not. I fear nothing, not I I never did harm in my life I never committed murder I verily believe thee

Keep thy temper Peter After supper we'll drink each of us a double mug And then let come what will Why that's well said John An honest man that is not quite sober Has nothing to fear Here's to ye Why, how if he should come this minute

Here would I stand Oh What noise is that? Huh, where? The devil, the devil Oh no Tis Mistress Abigail Ay, faith

Tis she Tis mistress Abigail A good mistake Tis Mr. Sabagiel Abigail. Enter Abigail. Here are your drunken sots for you. Is this a time to be guzzling when gentry are coming to the house?

Why don't you lay your cloth? How come you out of the stables? Why are not you at work in your garden? Why, yonder's the fine Londoner, and madam fetching a walk together. And me thought they looked as if they should say they had rather have my room than my company. And so forsooth being all three met together,

we are doing our endeavors to drink this same drummer out of our heads. For you must know, Mistress Abigail, we are all of opinion that one can't be a match for him unless one be as drunk as a drum. I am resolved to give Madam Warning to hire herself another coachman. for I came to serve my master, G.S.C. while he was alive. But do suppose that he has no further occasion for a coach. Now he walks.

Truly, Mr. Abigail, I must need say that this same spirit is a very odd sort of a body after all. To fright madam and his old servants at this rate. And truly, Mistress Abigail, I must need say, I serve my master contentedly while he was living, but I will serve no man living, that is no man that is not living, without double wages. Aye, tis such cowards as you that go about with idle stories,

to disgrace the house and bring so many strangers about it. You first frighten yourselves and then your neighbours. Frightened? I scorn your words Frightened Quota What you thought Are you grown pod valiant Frightened with a drum

That's a good one It will do us no arm I'll answer for that It will bring no bloodshed along with it Take my word It sounds as like a train band drum as ever I heard in my life. Prithy, Peter, don't be so presumptuous.

Abigail, aside. Well, these drunken rogues take it as I could wish. I scorn to be frightened. Now I'm in for it. If old Dubba-Dub should come into the room, I would take him. Prithy, hold thy tongue. I would take him. The drum beats. The gardener endeavors to get off and falls.

Speak to it, Mrs. Abigail. Spare my life and take all I have. Make off, make off, good butler, and let us go hide ourselves in the cellar. They all run off. Abigail Sola. So, now the coast is clear. I may venture to call out my drummer. But first let me shut the door lest we be surprised. mr phantom mr phantom nay nay pray come out the enemy is fled i must speak with you immediately don't stay to beat the parley the back scene opens and discovers phantom with a drum dear mistress nebby i have overheard all that has been said and find thou hast managed this thing so well that i could take thee in my arm

and kiss they, if my drum did not stand in my way? Well, oh, my conscience, you are the merriest ghost, and the very picture of Sir George Truman. Where you flatter me, Mistress, Abigail. Sir George had that freshness in his looks that we men of the town cannot come up to. Oh, death may have altered you, you know. Besides, you must consider you lost a great deal of blood in the battle. Aye, that's right. Let me look never so pale.

This cut cross my forehead will keep me in countenance. It is just such a one as my master received from a cursed French trooper, as my lady's letter informed her. It happens, luckily, that this suit of clothes of Sir George's fits me so well. I think I can't fail hitting the air of a man with whom I was so long acquainted. You are the very man. I bower almost start when I look upon you. But what good will this do me if I must remain invisible? Pray, what good did your being visible, do you?

The fair Mr. Fontome thought no woman could withstand him. But when you were seen by my lady in your proper person, after she had taken a full survey of you, and heard all the pretty things you could say, she very civilly dismissed you for the sake of this empty, noisy creature tinsel. She fancies you have been gone from hence this fortnight. Why, really, I love thy lady so well, that though I had no hopes of gaining her for myself, I could not bear to see her given to another, especially to such a wretch as tinsel. Well, tell me truly, Mr. Fantom,

have not you a great opinion of my fidelity to my dear lady that I would not suffer her to be deluded in this manner for less than a thousand pound? Well, art always reminding me of my promise. Thou shalt have it, if thou canst bring our business. project to bear dost not know that stories of ghosts and

apparitions generally end in a pot of money Why truly now Mr. Fontome, I should think myself a very bad woman if I had done what I do for a farthing less. Dear Abigail, how I

admire thy virtue. No, no, Mr. Fonton, I defy the worst of my enemies to say I love mischief for mischief's sake. But is thy lady persuaded that I am the ghost of her deceased husband? I endeavour to make her believe so, and tell her every time your drum rattles that her husband is chiding her for entertaining this new lover. Pray they make use of all thy art, for I am tired to death with strolling round this wide old

house, like a rat behind a wainscot? Did not I tell you it was the purest place in the world for you to play your tricks in? There is none of the family that knows every hole and corner in it, besides myself. Ah, Mistress Abigail, you have had your intrigues. For you must know when I was a romping young girl I was a mighty lover of hide-and-seek. I believe by this time I am as well acquainted with the houses yourself. You are very much mistaken, Mr. Fontome, but no matter for that. Here is to be your station tonight. This is the place unknown to anyone living besides myself, since the death of the joiner,

who, you must understand, being a lover of mine, contrived Dwayne Scott to move to and fro in the manner that you find it. I designed it for a wardrobe for my lady's cast clothes. Oh, the stomacres, petticoats, commodes, laced shoes, and good things that I have had in it. Pray take care you don't break the cherry brandy bottle that stands up in the corner. Well, Mistress Abigail, I hire your closet of you, but for this one night. A thousand pound, you know, is a very good rent. Well, get you gone.

You have such a way with you. there's no denying you anything. I'm thinking how tinsel will stare, when he sees me come out of the wall, for I am resolved to make my appearance tonight. Get you in, get you in, my lady's at the door. Pray take care, she does not keep me up so late as she did last night,

or depend upon it, I'll beat the tattoo. I'm undone. I'm undone. As he is going in. Mr. Fantom, Mr. Fantom, Mr. Fantom, you have put a thousand pound bond into my brother's hands. Thou shalt have it, I tell thee, thou shalt have it. Phantom goes in. No more words. Vanish, vanish. Enter Lady Truman.

Abigail opening the door. Oh, dear madam, was it you that made such a knocking? My heart does so beat, I vow you have frighted me to death. I thought verily it had been the drummer. I have been showing the garden to Mr. Tinsel. He's most insufferably witty upon us about this story of the drum. Indeed, madam, he's a very loose man. I'm afraid tis he that hinders my poor master from resting in his grave.

Well, an infidel is such a novelty in the country that I am resolved to divert myself a day or two at least, with the oddness of his conversation. Ah, madam, the drum began to beat in the house as soon as ever this creature was admitted to visit you. All the while Mr. Fantom made his addresses to you, there was not a mouse stirring in the family more than used to be. Lady Truman, aside.

This baggage has some design upon me, more than I can yet discover. Mr. Phantom was always thy favourite. I, and should have been yours too, by my consent. Mr. Fantom was not such a slight fantastic thing as this is. Mr. Fanton was the best-built men who should see in a summer's day. Mr. Fanton was a man of honour and loved you. Poor soul, how has he sighed when he has talked to me of my hard-hearted lady? Well, I had his leaf as a thousand pounds you would marry Mr. Fanton.

To tell thee truly, I loved him well enough. till I found he loved me so much. But Mr. Tinsel makes his court to me with so much neglect and indifference and with such an agreeable sauciness. Not that I say I'll marry him. Marry him, Quotha? No, if you should, you'll be awakened

sooner than married couples generally are. You quickly have a drum at your window. Lady Truman, aside. I'll hide my contempt of Tinsal for once, if it be but to see what this wench drives at. Why, suppose your husband's husband. after this fair warning he has given you should sound you an alarm at midnight. Then open your curtains with a face as pale as my apron, and cry out with a hollow voice,

What dost thou in bed with this spindle-shanked fellow? Why wilt thou need'st have it to be my husband? He never had any reason to be offended at me. I always loved him while he was living, and should prefer him to any man, were he so still. Mr. Tinsel is indeed very idle in his talk, but I fact that. fancy, Abigail, a discreet woman might reform him. That's a likely matter indeed. Did you ever hear of a woman who had power over a man when she was his wife that had none while she was his mistress?

Oh, there's nothing in the world improves a man in his complacence like marriage. He is indeed at present, too familiar in his conversation. Familiar? Madam, in troth, he's downright rude. But that you know, Abigail, shows that he has no dissimulation in his conversation. him, then he is apt to jest a little too much upon grave subjects. Grave subjects, he jests upon the church. But that you know, Abigail, may be only to show his wit. Then, it must be owned, he is extremely talkative.

Talkative, do you call it? He's downright impertinent. But that you know, Abigail, is a sign he has been used to good company. Then indeed, he is very positive. Positive? He contradicts you in everything. you say. But then you know, Abigail, he has been educated in the ends of court. Blessed education indeed. It has made him forget his catechism. You talk as if you hated him.

You talk as if you loved him. Hold your tongue. Here he comes. Enter tinsel. My dear widow. Abigail, aside. My dear widow, Mary come up. Let him alone, Abigail. So long as he does not call me my dear wife, there's no harm done. "'I have been most ridiculously diverted since I left you. Your servants have made a convert of my booby. His head is so filled with this foolish story of a drummer, that I expect the rogue would be afraid hereafter to go upon a message by moonlight.' "'Ah, Mr. Tinsall, what a loss of billet-do!

Would that be to many a fine lady?' "'Then you still believe this to be a foolish story? I thought my lady had told you that she had heard it herself. Why, you would not persuade us out of our senses? Abigail, aside. There's manners for you, madam. Admirably rallied, that laugh is unanswerable. Now I'll be hanged if you could forbear being witty upon me

if I should tell you I heard it no longer ago than last night. Fancy. But what if I should tell you my maid was with me? vapours, vapours, pray, my dear widow, will you answer me one question? Had you ever this noise of a drum in your head all the while your husband was living? And pray, Mr Tinsall, will you let me ask you another question?

Do you think we can hear in the country, as well as you do in town? Believe me, madam, I could prescribe you a cure for these imaginations. Don't tell my lady of imaginations, sir, I have heard it myself. Hargvied child. Are thou not an old maid? Sir, if I am, it is my own fault. Whims, freaks, megrims, indeed, Mistress Abigail.

Mary, sir, by your talk one would believe you thought everything that was good is a megrim. Why, truly, I don't very well understand what you meant by your doctrine to me in the garden just now, that everything we saw was made by chance. A very pretty subject indeed for a lover to divert his mistress with. But I suppose that was only a taste of the conversation you would entertain me with after marriage. Oh, I shall then have time to read you such lectures of motions, atoms and nature that you shall learn to think as freely as the best of us, and be convinced in less than a month that all about us is chance work.

You are a very complacent person indeed, and so you would make your court to me by persuasion, me that I was made by chance. Well, said, my dear, my faith, thou wert a very lucky hit that certain. Pray, Mr. Dinsel, where did you learn this odd way of talking? Ah, widow, tis your country innocence makes you think it an odd way of talking. Though you give no credit to stories of apparitions,

I hope you believe there are such things as spirits. Simplicity. I fancy you don't believe women have souls, do you sir? "'Foolish enough.' "'I bow, Mr. Tinsel. "'I'm afraid malicious people will say I'm in love with an atheist.' "'Oh, my dear, that's an old-fashioned word. "'I'm a free-thinker, child.'

"'I'm sure you are a free speaker.' "'Really, Mr. Tinsel, considering that you are so fine a gentleman, "'I am amazed where you got all this learning. "'I wonder it has not spoiled your breeding.' "'To tell you the truth, I have not time "'to look into these dry matters myself. that I am convinced by four or five learned men, whom I sometimes over here at a coffee-house I frequent, that our forefathers were a pack of asses, that the world has been in an era for some thousands of years,

and that all the people upon earth, excepting those two or three worthy gentlemen, are imposed upon cheated, bubbled, abused, bamboozled. Madam, how can you hear such a profligate? he talks like the London prodigal. Why really, I'm a thinking, if there be no such things as spirits, a woman has no occasion for marrying. She need not be afraid to lie by herself.

Ah, my dear, her husband's good for nothing but to frighten away spirits. Do you still think I could not instruct thee in several other comforts of matrimony? Ah, but you are a man of so much knowledge that you would always be laughing at my ignorance. You learned men are so apt to despise one. "'No, child, I'd teach thee my principles.

"'Thou shouldst be as wise as I am, in a week's time.' "'Do you think your principles would make a woman the better wife?' "'Pri thee widow, don't be queer.' "'I love a gay temper, but I would not have you rally things that are serious.' "'Well, enough, Faith. Where's the jest of rallying anything else?' "'Abegail, aside.' "'Ah, madam, did you ever hear Mr. Phantom talk at this rate?' "'But where's this ghost, this son of a horror drummer?

"'I'd fain hear him, methinks.' "'Pray, madam, don't suffer him to give the ghost such ill language, "'especially when you have reason to believe it is my master.' "'That's well enough, faith, Nab. "'Dost thou think thy master is so unreasonable "'as to continue his claim to his relict after his bones are laid? "'Pray, widow, remember the words of your contract. "'You have fulfilled them to a time.

Did not you marry, Sir George, to the tune of, till death thus do part? Lady Truman, aside. I must not hear Sir George's memory treated in so slight a manner. This fellow must have been at some pains to make himself such a finished coxcomb. Give me but possession of your person, and I'll whirl you up to town for a winter, and cure you at once. I have known many a country lady come to London with frightful stories of a whole. hall-house being haunted of fairy spirits and witches, that by the time she had seen a comedy, played at an assembly, and ambled in a ball or two, has been so little afraid of bug-bears

that she has ventured home in a chair at all hours of the night. Abigail, aside. Hum, sauce-box. Tis the solitude of the country that creates these whimsies. There was never such a thing as a ghost heard of at London, except in the playhouse. Oh, we'd pass all our time in London. It is a scene of pleasure and diversions, where there's something to amuse you every hour of the day. Life's not life in the country. Well then, you have an opportunity of showing the sincerity of that love to me which you profess.

You may give a proof that you have an affection to my person, not my jointure. Your jointure! How can you sing me such a dog? But child, won't your jointure be the same thing in London as in the country? No, you are deceived. You must know it is settled on me by marriage articles, on condition that I live in this old mansion house, and keep it up in repair. How?

That's well put, madam. Why, faith, I've been looking upon this house and think it is the prettiest habitation I ever saw in my life. Aye, but then this cruel drum. Something so venerable in it. Aye, but the drum. For my part, I like this gothic way of building better than any of your new orders. It would be a thousand pities that you fall to ruin.

Aye, but the drum! How pleasantly we two could pass our time in this delicious situation. Our lives would be a continued dream of happiness. Come, faith, widow, let's go upon the leads and take a view of the country. Hi, but the drum, the drum! My dear, take my word for it. "'Tis all fancy. "'Besides, should he drum in thy very bedchamber,

"'I should only hug thee the closer. "'Clasped in the folds of love, "'I'd meet my doom, "'and act my joys, though thunder shook the room. "'Eend of Act 1. "'Act two of The Drummer, or the Haunted House, "'by Joseph Addison. "'This is a Librevox recording.

All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Act 2. Scene opens and discovers Velam in his office and a letter in his hand. This letter astonisheth. May I believe my own eyes, or rather my spectacles, to Humphrey Velham Esquire, steward to the Lady Truman. I doubt not, but you will be glad to hear your master is alive, and designs to be with you

in half an hour. The report of my being slain in the Netherlands has, I find, produced some disorders in my family. I am now at the George Inn. If an old man with a grey beard, in a black cloak, inquires after you, give him admittance. He passes for a conjurer, but is really your faithful friend, G. Truman. P.S. Let this be a secret, and you shall find your account in it. This amazeth me. And yet the reasons why I should believe he is still living are manifold. First, because this has often been the case of other military adventurers.

Second, because the news of his death was first published in Deer's letter. Thirdly, because this letter can be written by none but himself, I know his hands. I know his hand and manner of spelling. Fourthly, Enter Butler. Sir, here's a strange old gentleman that asks for you. He says he's a conjurer, but he looks very suspicious. I wish he be into Jesuit.

Admit him immediately. I wish he be into Jesuit, but he says he's nothing but a conjurer. He says right. He is no more than a conjurer. Ring him in and withdraw. Exit Butler. and fourthly as i was saying because enter butler with sir george sir here is the conjurer aside what a devilish long beard he has i warrant it has been growing these hundred years exit dear veller you have received my letter but before we proceed lock the door it is his voice shuts the door in the next place help me off with this cumbersome cloak. It is his shape. So now lay my beard upon the table.

Vellum, after having looked on Sir George through his spectacles, It is his face, every liniment. Ah, well now, I have put off the conjure and the old man. I can talk to thee more at my ease. Believe me, my good master, I am as much rejoiced to see you alive as I was upon the day you were born. Your name was, in all the newspapers, in the list of those that were slain. We have not time to be particular. I shall only tell thee in general that I was taken prisoner in the battle, and was under close confinement for several months. Upon my release, I was resolved to surprise my wife with the news of my being alive. I know, Vellum, you are a person of so much

penetration that I need not use any further argument to convince you that I am so. I am, and moreover I question not, but your good lady will likewise be convinced of it. Her honour is a discerning lady. I'm only afraid she should be convinced of it to her sorrow. Is not she pleased with her imaginary widowhood? Tell me truly. Was she afflicted at the report of my death? sorely how long did her grief last longer than i have known any widows at least three days three days say'st thou three whole days i'm afraid thou flatterest me oh woman woman

grief is twofold sir george aside this blockhead is as methodical as ever but i know he's honest there is real grief and there is methodical grief. She was drowned in tears till such time as the tailor had made her widow's weeds. Indeed, they became her. Became her? And was that her comfort? Truly a most seasonable consolation. But I must need say she paid a due regard to your memory, and could not forbear weeping when she saw company. That was kind indeed. I find she grieved with a great deal of good breeding. But how comes this gang of lovers about her? Her jointure is considerable. Sir George, aside.

Oh, how this fool torments me. Her person is amiable. Sir George, aside. Death. But her character is unblemished. She has been as virtuous in your absence as a Penelope. And has had as many suitors. Several have made their overtures.

Several? But she has rejected all. There, thou revivest me. But what means this tinsel? Are his visits acceptable? He is young. Does she listen to him? He is gay.

Sure, she could never entertain a thought of marrying such a coxcomb. He is not ill-made. Are the vows and protestations that pass between us come to this? I can't bear the thought of it. Is Tinsel the man designed for my worthy successor? You do not consider that you have been dead these fourteen months. Sir George, aside. Was there ever such a dog?

And I have often heard her say that she must never expect to find a second Sir G. Truman, meaning your honor. I think she loved me. But I must search into this. story of the drummer before I discover myself to her. I have put on this habit of a conjurer in order to introduce myself. It must be your business to recommend me as a most profound person, that by my great knowledge in the curious arts can silence the drummer and dispossess the house.

I am going to lay my accounts before my lady, and I will endeavor to prevail upon her honor to admit the trial of your art. I have scarce heard of any of these stories that did not arise from a love intrigue. Ammers raise as many ghosts as murders. Mistress Abigail endeavors to persuade us that tis your honor who troubles the house. That convinces me tis a cheat.

For I think, vellum, I may be pretty well assured. It is not me. I am apt to think so truly. Abigail had always in a sense over her lady, and if there is a trick in this matter, depend upon it she is at the bottom of it. I'll be hanged if this ghost be not one of Abigail's familiars. Mistress Abigail has, of late, been very mysterious. Aye, fancy, vellum, thou couldst warm it out of her. I know formerly there was an amour between you.

Mistress Abigail hath her allurements, and she knows I have picked up a competent in your honor's service. If thou hast, all I ask of thee in return is that thou wouldst immediately renew thy addresses to her. Coax her up. Thou hast such a silver-tongue

venom as twill be impossible for her to withstand. Besides, she is so very a woman, that she'll like thee the better for giving her the pleasure of telling a secret. In short, wheedle her out of it,

and I shall act by the advice which thou givest me. Mistress Abigail was never deaf to me when I talked upon that subject. I will take an opportunity of addressing myself to her in the most pathetic manner. In the meantime, lock me up in your office and bring me word what success you have. Oh, well, sure I am the first that ever was employed to lay himself. You act indeed a three-fold part in this house. You are a ghost, a conjurer, and my honored master Sir George,

Truman. You will pardon me for being jocular. Oh, Mr. Valham, with all my heart, you know I love you, men of wit and humor. Be as merry as thou pleases, so thou dost thy business. Mimicking him. You would remember, Valen, your commission is twofold, first to gain admission for me to your lady, and secondly to get the secret out of Abigail. It suffices. The scene shuts. Enter Lady Truman, Sola. Women who have been happy in a first marriage are the most apt to venture upon a second. But for my part, I had a husband,

so every way suited to my inclinations, that I must entirely forget him before I can like another man. I have now been a widow but fourteen months, and have had twice as many lovers, all of them professed admirers of my person, but passionately in love with my jointure. I think it is a revenge I owe my sex to make an example of this worthless tribe of fellows who grow impudent,

dress themselves fine, and fancy we are obliged to provide for him. But of all my captives, Mr. Tinsall is the most extraordinary in his kind. I hope the diversion I give myself with him is unblamable. I'm sure it is necessary to turn my thoughts off from the memory of that dear man who has been the greatest happiness and affliction of my life. My heart would be a prey to melancholy if I did not find these innocent methods of relieving it. Oh, but here comes Abigail. I must tease the baggage, for I find she has taken it into her head that I am entirely at her disposal. Enter Abigail. Madam, Madam, yonder as Mr. Tinsel has as good as taken possession of your house.

Mary, he says, he must have Sir George's apartment enlarged, for truly, says he, I hate to be straightened. Nay, he was so incudent as to show me the chamber where he intends to concede. consummate, as he calls it. Well, he's a wild fellow. Indeed, he's a very sad man, madam. He's young, Abigail. Tis a thousand pities he should be lost. I should be mighty glad to reform him.

Reform him. Mary, hang him. Has not he a great deal of life? Aye, enough to make your heart ache. I dare say thou thinkest him a very agreeable fellow. He thinks himself so. I'll answer for him. He's very good.

He ought to be so for he's very silly. Does thou think he loves me? Mr. Phantom did, I'm sure. With what raptures he talked. Yes, but twas in praise of your joint her house. He has kept bad company. He must be very bad indeed if they were worse than himself. I have a strong fancy a good woman might reform him.

It would be a fine experiment if it should not succeed. Well, Abigail, we'll talk of that another time. Here comes the steward. I have no further occasion for you at present. Exit Abigail. Enter Velim. Madam, is your honour at leisure to look into the accounts of the last week? They rise very high. Housekeeping is chargeable in a house that is haunted. How comes that to pass? I hope the drum neither eats nor drinks, but read your account, Vellum.

Vellum, putting on and off his spectacles in this scene. "'A hogshead and a half of ale. "'It is not for the ghost drinking, "'but your honour's servants say they must have something "'to keep up their courage against this strange noise. "'They tell me they expect a double quantity of malt in their small beer "'so long as the house continues in this condition. "'At this rate, they'll take care to be frightened

"'all the year round I'll answer for him. "'But go on.' "'Eighton. "'Two sheep and a—' "'Where is the ox? "'Ah, here I have. him, and an ox. Your honour must always have a piece of cold beef in the house for the entertainment of so many strangers, who come from all parts to hear this drum.

Item, bread, ten peck-loves. They cannot eat beef without bread. Item, three barrels of table-beer. They must have drink with their meat. Lady Truman, aside. Sure, no woman in England has a steward that makes such ingenious comments on his works. Item. Two Mr. Tinsel's servants. Five bottles of port wine. It was by your honor's order. Item, three bottles of Sack for the use of Mistress Abigail. I suppose that was by your own order. We have been long friends. We are your honor's ancient servants.

Sack is an innocent cordial and gives her spirit to chide the servants when they are tardy in their business. "'Heha, ha! Pardon me for being jocular. "'Well, I see you'll come together at last. "' Item. A dozen pound of watch-lights for the use of the servants.' "'For the use of the servants? What, are the rogues afraid of sleeping in the dark? "'What an unfortunate woman am I? "'This is such a particular distress. It puts me to my wits end. "'Vellum, what would you advise me to do?'

"'Madam, your honour has two points to consider. imprimis to retrench these extravagant expenses which so many strangers bring upon you secondly to clear the house of this invisible drummer this learned division leaves me just as wise as i was but how must we bring these two points to bear i beseech your honour to give me the hearing i do but prithee take pity on me and be not tedious i will be concise there is a certain person arrived this morning, an aged man of a venerable aspect, and of a long, hoary beard that reaches down to his girdle. The common people call him a wizard, a white witch, a conjurer, a cunning man, a necromancer, a... No matter for his titles, but what of all this? Give me the hearing, good my lady. He pretends to great skill in the occult sciences, and has come hither upon the rumour of this drum.

If one may believe him, he knows the secret of laying ghosts, or of quieting houses that are haunted. Foe, these are idle stories to amuse the country people. This can do us no good. It can do us no harm, my lady. I dare say, thou dost not believe there is anything in it thyself. I cannot say I do. There is no danger, however, in the experiment.

Let him try his skill. If it should succeed, we are rid of the drum. If it should not, we may tell the world that it has, and by that means at least get out of this expensive way of living, so that it must turn to your advantage one way or another. I think you argue very rightly, but where is the man? I would fain see him. He must be a curiosity. I have already discoursed him,

and he is to be with me in my office half an hour hence. He asks nothing for his pains till he has done his work. No cure, no money. That circumstance, I must confess, would make one believe there is more in his art than one would imagine. Pray vellum go and fetch him hither immediately. I am gone. He shall be forthcoming forthwith. Exeunt. Enter Butler, coachman, and Gardner. Rare news, my lads, rare news.

What's the matter? Has they got any more avails for us? No, tis better than that. Is there another stranger come to the house? Aye, such a stranger as will make all our lives easy. What? Is he a lord? A lord? No, nothing like it. He's a conjurer. A conjurer? What? Is he come a wooing to my lady? Oh, no, you fool. He's come a purpose to lay the spirit.

I, Mary, that's good news indeed. But what? Where is he? He's locked up with a steward in his office. They are laying their heads together very close. I fancy they are casting a figure. Pretty, John. What's all creatures a conjurer? Why, he's made much as other men are,

if it was not for his long grey beard. Look ye, ye, Peter, it stands with reason that a conjurer should have a long grey beard, for did ye ever know a witch that was not an old woman? Why, I remember a conjurer once at a fair, that to my thinking was a very smock-faced man, and yet he spewed out fifty yards of green ferret. I fancy, John, if lads get him into the pantry and give him a cup of ale,

he'd show us a few tricks. The stink we couldn't persuade him, to swallow one of thy case knives for his diversion. He'll certainly bring it up again. Peter, thou art such a wiseacre. You'll just not know the difference between a conjurer and a juggler. This man must be a very great master of his trade. His beard is at least half a yard long.

He's dressed in a strange dark cloak, as black as coal. Your conjurer always goes in mourning. Is he a gentleman? Had he a sword by his sight? No, no, he's too grave a man for that. The conjurer is as grave as a judge. But he had a long white wand in his hand. You may be sure there's a good deal of virtue in that wand.

I fancy tis made out of which elm. I warn you have to go. ghost appears, he'll whiskey that wand before his eyes and strike you the drumstick out of his hand. No, the wand, look ye, is

to make a circle. And if he once gets the ghost in a circle, then he has him. Let him get out again if he can. A circle you must know is a conjurer's trap. But what will he do with him

when he has him there? Why, then he'll overpower him with his learning. If he can once compass him and get him in lob's pound, he'll make nothing of him but speak a few hard words to him and perhaps bind him over to his good behaviour for a thousand years. Aye, aye, he'll send him packing to his grave again with a flea in his ear, I warrant him. No, no, I would advise me. madam to spare no cost. If the conjurer

be but well paid, he'll take pains upon the ghost and lay him, looky, in the red sea, and then he's laid forever. Aye, Mary, that would spoil his drum for him. Why, John, there must be a pair of spirits in that same red sea. Only warrant you there is plenty as fish. Well, I wish, after all, that he may not be too hard for the conjurer. I'm afraid he'll find a tough bit of work, aunt.

I wish the spirit may not carry a corner of his house off with him. As for that, Peter, you may be sure that the steward has made his bargain with the cunning man beforehand, that he shall stand to all costs and damages. But hark, yonder is Mr. Sabagale. We shall have her with us immediately if we do not get off. Aye, lads, if we could get Mistress Abigail well laid too, we should lead merry lives. For to a man like me, a stout and bold, a ghost is not so dreadful as a scold.

End of Act 2. Act 3 of the drummer, or The Haunted House, by Joseph Addison. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Act 3 Scene opens and discovers Sir George in Vellum's office.

Ah, I wonder I don't hear Vellum yet, but I know his wisdom will do nothing rashly. The fellow has been so used to form in business that it has infected his whole conversation. but I must not find fault with that punctual and exact behavior which has been of so much use to me. My estate is the better for it. Enter Vellum. Well, Vellum, I'm impatient to hear your success. First, let me lock the door. Will your lady admit me?

If this lock is not mended soon, it will be quite spoiled. Prithee, let the lock alone at present and answer me. Delays in business are dangerous. I must send for the Smith next week. And in the meantime, we'll take a minute of it. But what says your lady? This pen is not, and wants mending. My lady, did you say? Does she admit me? I have gained admission for you as a conjurer. Ah, that's enough. I'll gain admission for myself as a husband. Does she believe there's anything in my art? It is hard to know what a woman believes.

Did she ask no questions about me? Sundry. She desires to talk with you herself before you enter upon your business. But when? Immediately, this instant. Pure, what hast thou been doing all this while? Why didst thou not tell me so? Give me my cloak.

Have you met with Abigail? I have not yet had an opportunity. of talking with her. But we have interchanged some languishing glances. Let thee alone for that vellam. I have formerly seen thee ogle her through thy spectacles. Well, this is a most venerable cloak. After the business of this day is over, I'll make thee a present of it. We'll become thee mightily. Would you make a conjurer of your steward? Prithy, don't be jocular. I'm in haste. Help me on with you.

my beard. And what will your honor do with your cast beard? Why, faith, thy gravity wants only such a beard to it. If thou woulds wear it with the cloak, thou wouldst make a most complete heathen philosopher. Ha, ha, but, uh, where's my wand? A fine taper stick. It is well chosen.

I will keep this till you are sheriff of the county. It is not my custom to let anything be lost. Come, vellum, lead the way. You must introduce me to your lady. Thou art the fittest valour in the world to be a master of ceremonies to a conjurer. Exeunt Enter Abigail crossing the stage. Tinsel following.

Nabi, Nabi, with a so fast child. Keep your hands to yourself. I'm going to call the steward to my lady. What? Goodman, twofold. I met him walking with a strange old felon. Hello, Yonder. I suppose he belongs to the family, too. He looks very antique. He must be some of the furniture of this old mansion house. What does the man mean? Don't think to palm me as you do my lady.

Prithin, Nabi, tell me one thing. What's the reason thou art my enemy? Mary, because I'm a friend to my lady. Dost do see anything about me, though dost not like? Come here the hussy, give me a kiss. Don't be ill-natured. Sir, I know how to be civil. Kisses her. Abigail, aside. This rogue will carry off my lady if I don't take care. Thy lips are as soft as velvet, Abigail.

I must get thee a husband. Ah, now you don't speak idly. I can talk to you. I have one in my eye for thee. dost thou love a young, lusty son of a whore? Lord, how you talk? This is a thundering dog. What is he? A private gentleman.

Aye, where does he live? In the horse guards. But he has one fault, I must tell thee of. If thou canst bear with that, he is a man for thy purpose. Pray, Mr. Tinsel, what may that be? He is but five and twenty years old. It is no matter for his age if he has been well educated. No man better, child.

He'll tie a wig, toss a dye, make a pass, and swear with such a grace as would make thy heart leap to hear him. Half these accomplishments will do, provided he has an estate. Pray, what has he? Not a farthing. Abigail, aside. Packs on him. What do I give him the hearing for? But as for that, I wouldn't make it up to him.

How? Why, look, ye, child, as soon as I have married thy lady, I designed to discard this old prig of a steward, and to put this honest gentleman I am speaking of into his place. Abigail, aside. This fellow is a fool. I'll have no more to say to him. Hark, my ladies are coming.

Depend upon it, Nab, I'll remember my promise. Abigail, aside. Aye, and so will I too. To your cost. Exit Abigail. My dear is purely fitted up with a maid, but I shall rid the house of her. Enter Lady Truman.

Oh, Mr. Tinsel, I am glad to meet you here. I am going to give you an entertainment that won't be disagreeable to a man of wit pleasure of the town. Aside. There may be something diverting in a conversation between a conjurer and this conceited ass. Tensell, aside. She loves me to distraction. I see that.

Pretty widow, explain thyself. You must know, here is a strange sort of a man come to town, who undertakes to free the house from this disturbance. The steward believes him a conjurer. Aye, thy steward is a deep one. He's to be here immediately. It is indeed an odd figure of a man. Oh, I warrant you he has studied a black heart. Is not it an Oxford scholar?

Widow, thy house is the most extraordinarily inhabited of any widows this day in Christendom. I think thy four chief domestics are a withered Abigail, a superannuated steward, a ghost, and a conjurer. Lady Truman, mimicking tinsel. And you would have it inhabited by a fifth, who is a more extraordinary person than any of all these four. Tinsel aside. It's a sure sign a woman loves you when she imitates your manner. The Holt's very smart, my dear, but see, smoke the doctor. Enter Vellum and Sir George in his conjurer's habit.

I will introduce this profound person to your ladyship, and then leave him with you. Sir, this is a good man. her honor. I know it well. Exit Velim. Sir George, aside, walking in amusing posture. That dear woman, the sight of her unmanned me. I could weep for tenderness, did not I at the same time feel an indignation rise in me to see that wretch with her, and yet I cannot but smile to see her in the company of her first and second husband at the same time. Mr. Tinsel, do you speak to him. You are used to the company of men of learning. Old gentlemen, thou dost not look like an inhabit of this world. I suppose they art lately come down from the stars. Pray what news is staring in the zodiac.

News that ought to make the heart of a coward tremble. Mars is now entering into the first house and will shortly appear in all his domalth dignities. "'Mars? Pretty, Father Greybeard, explain thyself.' "'The entrance of Mars into his house "'for tins the entrance of a master into this family, and that soon.' "'Do you hear that, widow? The stars have cut me out for thy husband. "'This house is to have a master, and that soon. "'Hark the old Gadbury, is not Mars very like a young fellow called Tom Tinsel?' not so much as venus is like this lady a word in your ear doctor these two planets will be in conjunction by and by i can tell you that sir george aside walking disturbed

curse on this impertinent fop i shall scarce forbear discovery myself madam i am told that your house has visited with strange noises and i am told that you can quiet them i must confess i had a curiosity to to see the person I had heard so much of. And indeed, your aspect shows that you have had much experience in the world. You must be a very aged man. My aspect deceives you. What do you think is my real age? I should guess thee within three years of Methuselah. Brithee tell me, was not thou born before the flood?

Truly, I should guess you to be in your second or third century. I warrant you, you have great grandchildren with beards of a foot long. "'Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, if there be truth in man, I was but five and thirty last August. Oh, the study of the occult sciences, makes a man's beard grow faster than you would imagine.' "'What an escape you have had, Mr. Tinsel, that you were not bred a scholar.' "'And so I fancy, doctor, thou think'st me an illiterate fellow, because I have a smooth chin.' "'Arkey, sir, a word in your ear. "'You are a coxcomb, by all the rules of physiognomy.'

but let that be a secret between you and me. Pray, Mr. Tinsel, what is it? The doctor whispers. Only a compliment, child, upon two or three of my features. It does not become me to repeat it. Pray, doctor, examine this gentleman's face, and tell me his fortune. If I may believe the lines of his face, he likes it better than I do. Then you do, fair lady. Widow, I hope now thou art convinced he's a cheat. For my part, I believe he's a witch. Go on, Doctor.

He will be crossed in love, and that soon. Prithee, doctor, tell us the truth. Dost not thou live in more fields? Take my word for it. Thou shalt never live in my Lady Truman's mansion house. Pray, old gentleman, has there never been plucked by the beard when thou wert saucy? nay mr tinsel you are angry do you think that i would marry a man that dares not have his fortune told let him be angry i matter not he is short-lived he will soon die of-come come speak out old hocus he he this fellow makes me burst with laughing ha ha ha ha he will soon die of fright or of the let me see your nose ah ay tis so "'You son of a whore, I'll run ye through the body. "'I never yet made the sun shine through a conjurer.'

"'Oh, fie, Mr. Tinsel, you will not kill an old man.' "'An old man? The dog says he's but five and thirty.' "'Oh, fie, Mr. Tinsel, I did not think you could have been so passionate. "'I hate a passionate man. "'Put up your sword, or I must never see you again.' "'Ha! ha! ha! I was but in jest, my dear. I had a mind to have made an experiment upon the doctor's body. I would but have drilled a little eyelid hole in it,

and have seen whether he had art enough to close it up again. Courage is but ill-shone for a lady. But know if ever I meet thee again, thou shalt find this arm can wield other weapons besides this wand. Well, Leonard Sir, you are to give a proof of your art, not of your courage. Or if you will show your courage, let it be at night. nine o'clock, for that is the time the noise is generally heard.

And look ye, old gentleman, if thou dost not do thy business well, I can tell thee by the little skill I have, that thou wilt be tossed in a blanket before ten. We do our endeavour to send thee back to the stars again. I'll go and prepare myself for the ceremonies, and, lady, as you expect, they should succeed your wishes. Treat that fellow with the contempt he deserves. exit sir george the sauciest dog i ever talked with in my whole life methinks he's a diverting fellow one may see he's no fool no fool ay but thou dost not take him for a conjurer

truly i don't know what to take him for i am resolved to employ him however when a sickness is desperate we often try remedies that we have no great faith in enter abigail madam the tea is ready in the parlour as you will ordered. Come, Mr. Tinsel, we may there talk of this subject more at leisure. Exeunt, Lady Truman, and Tinsel. Abigail Sola. Sure never any lady had such servants as mine has. Well, if I get this thousand pound, I hope to have some of my own. Let me see. I'll have a pretty tight girl, just such as I was ten years ago. I'm afraid I may say twenty. She shall dress me and flatt. me, for I will be flattered, that's Poss. My lady's cast suits will serve her after I have given them the wearing.

Besides, when I'm worth a thousand pound, I shall certainly carry off the steward. Madam Vellum, how prettily that will sound. Here, bring out Madame Vellum's chase. Nay, I do not know, but it may be a chariot. I will break the attorney's wife's heart. For I shall take place of everybody in the parish but my lady. If I have a son, he shall be called phantom. But see, Mr. Vellum, as I could wish.

I know his humour and will do my utmost to gain his heart. Enter Vellum with a pint of sack. Mistress Abigail, don't I break in upon you unseasonably? Oh, no, Mr. Vellum, your visits are always seasonable. I have brought with me a taste of fresh canary. which I think is delicious. Pray set it down. I have a dram glass just by.

Brings in a rummer. I'll pledge you. My lady's good health. And your own with it, sweet Mrs. Abigail. Pray, good Mr. Vellam, buy me a little parcel of this sack and put it under the article of tea. I would not have my name appear to it.

Mr. Abigail, your name seldom appears in my bills. and yet, if you will allow me a merry expression, you have been always in my books, Mrs. Abigail. Mr. Vellum, you're such a dry-gesting man. Why, truly, Mrs. Abigail, I have been looking over my papers, and I find you have been, a long time, my debtor.

Your debtor? For what, Mr. Vellum? For my heart, Mrs. Abigail. And our accounts will not be. be balanced between us till I have yours in exchange for it. Oh, you are the most gallant done, Mr. Vellum. But I am not used to being paid by words only, Mrs. Abigail. When will you be out of my debt?

Oh, Mr. Vellum, you make one blush, my humble service to you. I must answer you, Mrs. Abigail, in the country phrase, Your love is sufficient. Well, I must own I love a merry man. Let me see. How long is it, Mrs. Abigail, since I first broke my mind to you. It was, I think, an decimo gulliami. We have conversed together these fifteen years.

And yet, Mistress Abigail, I must drink to our better acquaintance. "'Hephy, Mistress Abigail, you know I am naturally jocose.' "'Ah, you men love to make sport with us silly creatures.' "'Mrs. Abigail, I have a trifle about me, which I would willingly make you a present of. "'It is indeed but a little toy.' "'You are always exceeding the obliging?' "'It is but a little toy, scarce worth your acceptance.' Pray, do not keep me in suspense.

What is it, Mr. Vellam? A silver thimble. I always said Mr. Vellum was a generous lover. But I must put it on myself, Mistress Abigail. You have the prettiest tip of a finger. I must take the freedom to salute it. Oh, why, you make me ashamed, Mr. Vellum. How can you do so?

I protest. I am in such a confusion. A feigned struggle. This finger is not the finger of idleness. It bears the honourable scars of the needle. But why are you so cruel as not to pair your nails? Oh, I vow you press it so hard. Pray give me my finger again. This middle finger, Mrs. Abigail, has a pretty neighbour.

A wedding ring would become it mightily. You're so full of your jokes. Aye, but where must I find one for it? I design this symbol, only as the forerunner of it. They will set off each other, and are, indeed a two-fold emblem. The first will put you in mind of being a good housewife, and the other of being a good wife. Yes, yes, I see you laugh at me.

Indeed, I am serious. I thought you had quite a good wife. forsaken me. I am sure you cannot forget the many repeated vows and promises you formerly made me. I should as soon forget the multiplication table. I have always taken your part before my lady. You have so, and I have itemed it on my memory. For I have always looked upon your interest as my own. It is nothing but your cruelty can hinder them from being so. Abigail, aside. I must strike while the Irish burns hot. Well, Mr. Vellum, there is no refusing you. You have such a bewitching tongue.

How? Speak that again. Why, then, in plain English, I love you. I'm overjoyed. I must own my passion for you. I'm transported. Catches her in his arms. Dear, charming man. "'Though some total of all my happiness. "'I shall grow extravagant. "'I can't forbear to drink thy virtuous inclinations in a bumper of sack. "'Your lady must make haste, my duck, "'or we shall provide a young steward to the estate

"'before she has an heir to it. "'Purthy, my dear, does she intend to marry Mr. Tinsel?' "'Marry him? "'My love, no, no, we must take care of that. There would be no staying in the house for us if she did. That young Raquel would send all the old servants a grazing. You and I should be discarded before the honeymoon was at an end. Pretty, sweet one.

Does not this drum put the thoughts of marriage out of her head? This drum, my dear, if it be well managed, will be no less than a thousand pound in our way. I, sayest thou so, my turtle? Since we are now as good as man and wife, I mean, almost as good as man and wife. I ought to conceal nothing from you. Certainly, my dove, not from thy yoke fellow,

thy helpmate, thy own flesh and blood. Hush, I hear Mr. Tinsel's laugh. My lady and he are coming this way. If you will take a turn without, I'll tell you the whole contrivance. Give me your hand, chicken. Here, take it. You have my heart already.

We shall have much issue. I have certain orders to give you, and therefore be attentive. Attentive? Aye. Let me alone for that. Aside. I suppose he means being sober. You know I have always recommended to you a method in your business.

I would have your knives and forks, your spoons and napkins, your plate and glasses, laid in a method. Ah, Master Willem. are such a sweet-spoken man. It does one's heart good to receive your orders. Method, John, makes business easy. It banishes all perplexity and confusion out of families. How he talks. I could hear him all day. And now, John, let me know whether your table linen, your sideboard, your cellar, and everything else within your province, are properly and methodically disposed for an entertainment this evening. Master Vellum, they shall be ready at quarter of an hour's warning.

But pray, sir, is this entertainment to be made for the conjurer? It is, John, for the conjurer. And yet it is not for the conjurer. Why, look you, Master Vellum, if it is for the conjurer, the cookmaid should have orders to get him some dishes to his palate. Perhaps he may like a little brimstone in his sauce. This conjurer, John, is a complicated creature, an amphibious animal, a person of a twofold nature. But he eats and drinks like other men.

Merry, Master Villum. He should eat and drink as much as two other men by the account you give of him. Thy conceit is not amiss. He is indeed a double man. I understand you. He's one of your hermaphrodites, as they call him. Married, and he is not married. He hath a beard, and he hath no beard. He is old, and he is young. How charmingly he talks. I fancy, Master Vellum, you can make a riddle.

The same man, old and young. How do you make that out, Master Vellum? Thou hast heard of the snake casting his skin and recovering his youth? Such is this sage person. Nay, it is no wonder a conjurer should be like a serpent. When he has thrown aside the old conjurer's low that hangs about him, he'll come out as fine a young gentleman as ever was seen in this house. Does he intend to sup in his sloth?

That time will show. Well, I have not ahead for these things. Indeed, Master Vellum, I have not understood one word you have said this half hour. I did not intend thou shouldest. but to our business let there be a table spread in the great hall let your pots and glasses be washed and in readiness bid the cook provide a plentiful supper and see that all the servants be in their best liveries i now i understand every word you say but i would rather hear you talk a little in that other way i shall explain to thee what i have said by and by bid susan lay two pillows upon your lady's bed. Two pillows.

Madam won't sleep upon them both. She's not a double woman, too. She will sleep upon neither. But Hark, Mistress Abigail, I think I hear her chiding the cookmaid. Then I'll away, or it will be my turn next. She, I'm sure, speaks plain English. Ha, one may easily understand every word she says.

Exit Butler. Vellum Solis. Servants are good for nothing, unless they have an opinion of the person's understanding who has the direction of them. But see, Mistress Abigail, she has a bewitching countenance. I wish I may not be tempted to marry her in good earnest. Enter Abigail. Ha! Mr. Vellum! What brings my sweet one hither?

I am coming to speak to my friend behind the Wainscot. It is fit child he should have an accountant. of this conjura that he should not be surprised. That would be as much as thy thousand pound is worth. I'll speak low. Walls have ears. Pointing at the wainscot. But hark, you duckling. Be sure you do not tell him that I am let into the secret.

That's a good one indeed, as if I should ever tell what passes between you and me. No, no, my child, that must not be. That must not be. You will always be waggish. Adieu. And let me hear the result of your conference. How can you leave one so soon? I shall think it an age till I see you again.

Adieu, my pretty one. Adieu, sweet Mr. Vellum. My pretty one. As he is going off. Dear Mr. Vellum. My pretty one. Exit Velum. Abigail Sola.

I have him, if I can but get this thousand pound. Ha! Three raps upon the drum, the signal Mr. Fantom and I agreed upon when he had a mind to speak with me. Very well, I hear you. Come, fox, come out of your hole. Scene opens, and Phantom comes out.

You may leave your drum in the wardrobe till you have occasion for it. well mistress abigail i want to hear what is a-doing in the world you are a very inquisitive spirit but i must tell you if you do not take care of yourself you will be laid this evening i have overheard something of that matter but let me alone for the doctor i'll engage to give a good account of him i am more in pain about tinseng When a lady's in the case I'm more afraid of one fop than twenty conjurers. To tell you truly, he presses his attacks with so much impudence that he has made more progress with my lady in two days than you did in two months. I shall attack her in another manner if thou canst but procure me another interview.

There's nothing that makes a lover so keen. as being kept up in the dark. Pray no more of your distant bows, your respectful compliments. Really, Mr. Phantom, you're only fit to make love across a tea-table. My dear girl, I can't forbear hugging thee for thy good advice. Aye, now I have some hopes for you, but why don't you do so to my lady? child i always thought your lady loved to be treated with respect believe me mr phantom there is not so great a difference between woman and woman as you imagine you see tinsle has nothing but his sauciness to recommend him tinsel is too great a coxcomb to be capable of love and let me tell thee abigail a man who is sincere in his passion, makes but a very awkward profession of it, but I'll mend my manners.

I, or you'll never gain a widow. Come, I must tutor you a little. Suppose me to be my lady, and let me see how you'll behave yourself. I am afraid, child, we haven't time for such a piece of mummery. Oh, it will be quickly over, if you play your part well. Well then, dear, Mistress Ab, I mean Lady Truman? Aye, but you hadn't saluted me. That's right. Faith, I forgot that circumstance. Kisses her.

Necta and embrace you. That's very well. How long must I be condemned to languish? When shall my sufferings have an end? My life, my happiness, my all is wound up in you. Well, why don't you squeeze my hand? What, thus? Thus?

Aye. Now, throw your arm about my middle. Hug me closer. You're not afraid of hurting me. Now, pour forth a volley of rapture and nonsense till you are out of breath. Transport and ecstasy. Where am I? My life.

My bliss! I rage, I burn, I bleed, I die. Go on, go on. Flames and darts, bear me to the gloomy shade, rocks and grottes, flowers, zephyrs, and pearling streams. Oh, Mr. Phantom, you have a tongue who'd undo a vestal. You were born for the ruin of our sex. This will do then, Abigail? Aye, this is talking like a lover.

Though I only represent my lady, I take a pleasure in hearing you. Well, over my conscience when a man of sense has a little dash of the coxcomb in him, no woman can resist him. Go on at this rate, and the thousand pound is as good as in my pocket. I shall think at an age till I have an opportunity of putting this lesson in practice? You may do it soon if you make good use of your time. Mr. Tinsel will be here with my lady at eight,

and at nine the conjurer is to take you in hand. Let me alone with both of them. Well, forewarned, forarmed, farmed. Get into your box, and I'll endeavor to dispose everything in your favor. Phantom goes in. Exit Abigail. Enter Velem. "'Mrs. Abigail is withdrawn. "'I was in hopes to have heard what passes between her and her invisible correspondent.

"'Enter Tinsel. "'Vellum! "'Vellum! "'Vellum, aside. "'Vellum. "'We army thinks very familiar. "'I am not used to being called so by any but their honours. "'What would you, Mr. Tinsel?'

"'Let me beg a favour of the old gentleman. "'What is that, good sir?' privy run and fetch me the rent-roll of thy lady's estate the rent-roll the rent-roll i the rent-row dost not understand what that means why have you thoughts of purchasing of it thou hast hit it old boy that is my very intention the purchase will be considerable and for that reason i have bid thy lady very high she is to have no less for it than this entire person of mine is your whole estate personal mr tinsel ha ha ha ha why you queer old dog you don't pretend to jest do ye look ye vellum if you think of being continued my steward you must learn to walk with your toes out Vellum aside. An insolent companion. Thou had confounded rich, I see by that dangling of thy arms.

An ungracious bird. Thou shalt lend me a couple of thousand pounds. A fairy profligate. Look ye, vellum, I intend to be kind to you. I'll borrow some money of you. I cannot but smile to consider the disappointment this young fellow will meet with. I will make myself marry with him. "'And so, Mr. Tinsel, you promise you will be a very kind master to me?'

"'Stifling a laugh.' "'What will you give for a life in the house you live in?' "'What do you think of five hundred pounds? "'That's too little.' "'And yet it is more than I shall give you. "'And I will offer you two reasons for it.' "'Pri thee, what are they?' "'First, because the tenement is not.

not in your disposal. And secondly, because it never will be in your disposal. And so fare you well, good Mr. Tinsel. You will pardon me for being jocular. Exit, vellum. This rogue is as saucy as a concherer. I'll be hanged if they are not akin. Enter Lady Truman. Mr. Tinsel, what, all alone? You free thinkers are great admirers of solitude. No, Faith, I have been talking with thy steward, a very grotesque figure of a fellow, the very picture of one of our benches. How can you bear his conversation? I keep him for my steward and not my companion. He's a sober man. Yes, yes, he looks like a put. A queer old dog, as ever I saw in my life. We must turn him off with her. He cheats thee confoundedly.

I see that. Indeed, you're mistaken. He has always had the reputation of being a very honest man. What? I suppose he goes to church. Goes to church, so do you too, I hope. I would for once, widow, to make sure of you. Ah, Mr. Tinsel, a husband who would not continue to go thither, would quickly forget the promises he made there. Faye, very innocent and very ridiculous. Well, then I warn thee, widow, that was not for the world merry Sabbath breaker. Truly, they'd generally come to a bad end. I remember For the conjurer told you, you were short-lived. The conjurer.

Indeed, you're very witty. Indeed, you're very handsome. Kisses her hand. Lady Truman, aside. I wish the fool does not love me. Though art the idol I adore. How must I pay my devotion? Preetly widow, has there any timber upon thy estate?

The most impudent fellow I ever met with. I take notice thou hast a great deal of old plate here in the house, widow. Mr. Tinsel, you are a very observing man. Their large silver cistern would make a very good coach, and half a dozen salvers that I saw on the sideboard might be turned into six as pretty horses as any that appear in the ring. You have a very good fancy, Mr. Tinsle. What pretty transformations you could make in my house.

Aside. But I'll see where it will end. Then I observe, child, You have two or three services of gilt plate. We'd eat always in China, my dear. I perceive you are an excellent manager. How quickly you have taken an inventory of my goods. Now hark you, widow, to show you the love that I have for you.

Very well, let me hear. You have an old-fashioned gold cardal cup, with the figure of a saint upon the lid-on. I have. What then? Why, look here, I'd sell the cordal cup with the old saint for as much money as they'd fetch, which I would convert into a diamond buckle and make you a present of it. Oh, you are generous to an extravagance. But pray, Mr. Tinsel, don't dispose of my goods before you are sure of my person. I find you have taken a great affection to my movables.

My dear, I love everything that belongs to you. I see you do, sir. You need not make any protestations upon that subject. Foe, my dear, we are grown serious. And let me tell you, that's the very next step. to being dull. Come, their pretty face was never made to look grave with. Believe me, sir, whatever you may think, marriage is a serious subject. For that very reason, my dear, let us get over it as fast as we can. I should be very much in haste for a husband, if I married within 14 months

after Sir George's deceased. Pray, my dear, let me ask you a question. Does not thou think that Sir George is dead at present to all intents and purposes, as he will be a twelve-month hence. Yes, but decency, Mr. Tinsel. Or dost thou think thou would be more a widow then than thou art now? The world would say I never loved my first husband. Oh, my dear. They would say you loved your second, and they would own I deserved it, for I shall love thee most inordinately. But what would people think? Think? Why, they would think thee the mirror of widowhood.

that a woman should live fourteen home months after the decease of a spouse without having engaged herself. Why, about town, we know many a woman of quality second husband, several years, before the death of the first. I know you wits have your commonplace jests upon us poor widows. I'll tell you a story, widow. I know a certain lady, who, considering the craziness of her husband, had, in case of mortality, engaged herself to two young fellows of my acquaintance. They grew such desperate rivals for her While her husband was alive That one of them pinked to the other in a duel

But the good lady was no sooner a widow But what did my dowage do? Why, Faith, being a woman of honour, She married a third, To whom it seems she had given her first promise. And this is a true story upon your own knowledge? Every title, as I hoped to be married, Or never believe Tom Tinsle.

Pray, Mr. Tinsel, Do you call this talking like a wit, or like a rake. Innocent enough. Why? Where's the difference, my dear? Yes, Mr. Tinsel. The only man I ever loved in my life had a great deal of the one

and nothing of the other in him. Nay, now you grow vaporish. Thou'd begin to fancy thou hears the drum by and by. If you had been here last night about this time, you would not have been so merry. About this time, says thou. Come, Faith, for the humour's sake, we'll sit down and listen.

I will, if you'll promise to be serious. Serious. Never fear me, child. Dost not hear him? You break your word already. Pray, Mr. Tinsel, do you laugh to show your wit or your teeth? Why both, my dear. Aside.

I'm glad, however, that she has taken notice of my teeth. But you look serious, child. I fancy thou hears the drum, dost not? Don't talk so rashly. My, my dear, you could not look more frightened if you had Lucifer's drummajor in your house. Mr. Tinsel, I must desire to see you no more in it if you do not leave this idle way of talking. Child, I thought I had told you what is my opinion of spirits, as we were drinking a dish of tea but just now. There is no such thing I give you my word.

Oh, Mr. Tensel, your authority must be of great weight to those that know you. For my part, child, I have made myself easy in those points. Lady Truman, aside. Sure nothing was ever like this fellow's vanity, but his ignorance. I'll tell thee what now, widow. I would engage by the help of a white sheet and a pennyworth of link in a dark night to frighten you a whole country village out of their senses, and the vecker into the bargain. Hark! What noise is that?

Heaven defend us. This is more than fancy. It beats more terrible than ever. "'Tis very dreadful. "'What a dog have I been to speak against my conscience, "'only to show my parts.' "'It comes nearer and nearer. "'I wish you have not angered it by your foolish discourse. "'Indeed, madam.

"'I did not speak from my heart. "'I hope it will do me no hurt "'for a little harmless raillery. "'Harmless, do you call it? "'It beats hard by us, "'as if it would break through the wall. "'What a devil had I to do with the white, sheet. Scene opens and discovers Phantom. Mercy on us. It appears. Oh, tis he, tis he himself,

tis Sir George, tis my husband. She faints. Now would I give ten thousand pound that I were in town? Phantom advances to him, drumming. I beg ten thousand pardons. I'll never talk at this rate anymore. Phantom still advances, drumming. By my soul, Sir George. I was not in earnest. Falls on his knees. Have compassion on my youth, and consider, I'm but a coxcomb. Phantom points to the door. But see, he weighs me off, high with all my heart.

What a devil had I to do with a white sheet! He steals off the stage, mending his pace, as the drum beats. The scoundrel is gone, and has left his mistress behind him. I'm mistaken if he makes love in this house anymore. I have now only the conjurer to deal with. I don't question, but I shall make his reverend scamper as fast as the lover. And then the day's my own. But the servants are coming.

I must get into my cupboard. He goes in. Enter Abigail and servants. Oh, my poor lady. This wicked drum has frightened Mr. Tinsel out of his wits, and my lady into a swoon. Let me bend her a little forward. Ah, she revives. Here, carry her into the fresh air, and she'll recover.

They carry her off. This is a little barbarous to my lady, but it's all for her good, and I know her so well that she would not be angry with me if she knew what I was to get by it. and if any of her friends should blame me for it hereafter, I'll clap my hand upon my purse and tell them, It was for a thousand pound, and Mr. Wellum. End of Act 4. Act 5 of the drummer, or the haunted house, by Joseph Addison.

This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Act 5 Enter Sir George in his conjurer's habit, the butler marching before him with two large

candles, and the two servants coming after him, one bringing a little table, and another a chair. And it please your worship, Mr. Conjurer. The steward has given all of us orders to do whatsoever you shall bid us, and to pay you the same respect as if you were our master.

Thou sayest well. And please your conjureships worship, shall I set the table down here? Here, Peter. Gardner, aside. Peter? He knows my name by his learning. I have brought you, Reverend Sir, the largest elbow chair in the house. Tis that the steward sits in when he holds a court.

Place it there. Sir, uh, would you please do want anything else? Paper and a pen and ink. sir i believe we have paper that is fit for your purpose my lady's morning paper that is blacked at the edges would you choose to write with a crow quill there is none better coachman go fetch the paper and standish out of the little parlor coachman to gardener Peter, prithee, do thou go along with me. I'm afraid. You know I went with you last night into the garden, when the cookmaid wanted a handful of parsley.

Why, you don't think I'll stay with a conjure by myself. Come, we'll all three go and fetch the pen and ink together. Exeunt servants. Sir George Solis. There's nothing I see makes such strong alliances as fear. These fellows are all entered into a conundered. Confederacy against the ghost. There must be abundance of business done in the family at this rate. But here comes the Triple Alliance. Who could have thought that these three roads could have found

each of them in an employment in fetching a pen and ink? Enter Gardner with a sheet of paper, coachman with a standish, and butler with a pen. Sir, there is your paper. Sir, there is your standish. Sir, there is your croquill pen. Aside. I'm glad I've got rid on it. Gardner, aside.

He forgets that he's to make a circle. Doctor, shall I help you to a bit of chalk? It is no matter. Looky, sir, I'll show you the spot where he's heard oftenest. If your worship can but ferret him out of that old wall in the next room. We shall try. That's right, John. His worship must let fly all his learning at that old wall. Sir, if I was worthy to advise you, I would have a bottle of good October by me.

Shall I set a cup of old stingo at your elbow? I think thee. We shall do without it. John, he seems a very good-natured man for a conjurer. I'll take this opportunity. of a coin after a bit of plate I have lost. I fancy, while he is in my lady's pay, one might hedge in a question or two into the bargain. Sir, sir, may I beg a word in your ear?

What wouldest thou? Sir, I know I need not tell you that I lost one of my silver spoons last week. Marked with a swan's neck. Butler, aside. My lady's crest, he knows everything. How would your worship advise me to recover it again? What must I do to come at it?

Drink nothing but small beer for a fortnight. Small beer? Rot-cut. If thou drinkest a single drop of ale before fifteen days are expired, it is as much as thy spoon is worth. Butler, aside. Ha! I shall never. recover it that way. I'll even buy a new one.

Do you mind how they whisper? I'll be hanged if he's not asking him something about now. I'll take this opportunity of putting a question to him about poor Dobbing. I fancy he could give me better counsel than the Farrier. Butler to Gardner. A prodigious man, he knows everything. Now is the time to find out thy pickax. I have nothing to give him.

Does not he expect to have his hand cross with silver? Coachman to Sir George. Sir, may a man venture to ask you a question. Ask it? I have a poor horse in the stable that's bewitched. A bay gilding. Coachman, aside. How could he know that?

Bought at Banbury. Woo, so it was. O'er my conscience. Whistles. Six-year-old vast lamas Coachman, aside To a day Now, sir, I would know whether the poor beast is bewitched by Goody Crouch or Goody Fly

Neither Then it must be Goody Girton, for she is the next oldest woman in the parish. Has thou done, Robin? Coachman to Gardner He can tell thee anything. Gardner, to Sir George. Sir, I would beg to... take you a little further out of earring.

Speak. The butter and I, Mr. Doctor, were both of us in love at the same time with a certain person. A woman. Gardner, aside. How could he know that? Go on. This woman, as lately, had two children at a birth. Twins.

Pretigious. Where could he hear that? proceed now because i used to meet her sometimes in the garden she has laid them both to thee what a power of learning he must have he knows everything hast thou done i would desire to know whether i am really the father of both stand before me let me survey thee round lays his wand upon his head and makes him turn about look yonder john the silly dog is turning about under the conjurer's wand if he has been saucy to him we shall see him puffed off in a whirlwind immediately twins dost thou say still turning him ay are they both mind you think oh but one of them ah but mistress abigail will have me take care of them both she's always for the butler if If my poor master Sir George had been alive, he would have made him go abs with me. What, who was Sir George a kind of master?

Was he? Only my fellow servants will bear me witness. Did ye love Sir George? Everybody loved him. There was not a dry eye in the parish at the news of his death. He was the best neighbor. The kindest husband. truest friend to the poor. My good lady took on mightily.

We all thought it would have been the death of her. Sir George, aside. I protest these fellows, Malta me. I think the time long till I am their master again, that I may be kind to them. Enter vellum. Have you provided the doctor everything he has occasion for? If so, you may depart.

Exeant servants. sir george aside i can as yet see no hurt in my wife's behaviour but still have some certain pangs and doubts that are natural to the heart of a fond man i must take the advantage of my disguise and be thoroughly satisfied it would neither be for her happiness nor mine to make myself known to her till i am so dear velland i am impatient to hear some news of my wife. How does she after her fright? It is a saying somewhere in my Lord Coke, that a widow... I ask my wife that thou talkest to me of my Lord Coke. Prithee, tell me how she does, for I am in pain for her. She is pretty well recovered.

Mistress Abigail has put her in a good heart, and I have given her great hopes from your skill. That I think cannot fail, since you hast got this secret out of Abigail. but I could not have thought my friend of Fantomi would have served me this. You will still fancy you are a living man? That he should endeavor to ensnare my wife. You have no right in her. After your demise, death extinguishes all property.

Kowai'd honk. It is a maxim in the law. Ah, pox on your learning. Well, but what has become of Tintso? He rushed out of the house, called for his horse, "'collapsed spurs to his sides, "'and was out of sight in less time, "'than I can tell ten.'

"'This is whimsical enough. "'My wife will have quick succession of lovers in one day. "'Fentomey has driven out tinsel, "'and I shall drive out Fantome. "'Even as one wedge drive us out another. "'You must pardon me for being jocular. "'Was there ever such a provoking blockhead? But he means well.

Well, I must have satisfaction of this traitor, Fantome, and cannot take a more proper one than by turning him out of my house in a manner that shall show shame upon him, and make him ridiculous as long as he lives. You must remember, Vellum, you have abundance of business upon your hands, and I have just time to tell you over all I require of you is dispatch. therefore hear me there is nothing more requisite in business than dispatch then hear me it is indeed the life of business hear me then i say and as one has rightly observed the benefit that attends it is fourfold first there is no bearing this thou are going to describe dispatch when thou shouldst be practising it but your honour will not give me the hearing sir george sir george angrily. Thou wilt not give me the hearing. I am still. In the first place you are to lay my wig hat and sword ready for me in the closet, and one of my scarlet coats. You know how Abigail has described the ghost to you. It shall be done. Then you must remember, whilst I am laying this ghost, you are to prepare my wife for the reception of her real husband. Tell her the whole story, and do it with all the art you are master of, of, that the surprise may not be too great for her.

It shall be done. But since her honor has seen this apparition, she desires to see you once more before you encounter it. I shall expect her impatiently. For now I can talk to her without being interrupted by that impertinent rogue tinsel. I hope thou hast not told Abigail anything of the secret. Mistress Abigail is a woman.

There are many reasons why she should not be acquainted with it. I shall only mention six. Hush, here she comes. Oh, my heart. Enter Lady Truman and Abigail. Sir George, aside, while Vellum talks in dumb show to Lady Truman. Oh, that loved woman! How I long to take her in my arms!

If I find I am still dear to her memory, it will be a return to life in dear. Ah, but I must take care of indulging this tenderness and put on a behavior more suitable to my present character. Walks at a distance in a pensive posture waving his wand. Lady Truman to vellum. This is surprising indeed. So all the servants tell me, they say he knows everything that has happened in the family. Abigail, aside.

A parcel of credulous fools. They first tell him their secrets and then, wonder how he comes to know them. Exit Vellon, exchanging fond looks with Abigail. Leonard, sir, may I have some conversation with you before you begin your ceremonies? Speak, but hold. First let me feel your pulse. What can you learn from that? I have already learned a secret from it, that will astonish you.

Pray what is it? You will have a husband within this half hour. "'Abigail, aside. "'I'm glad to hear that. "'He must mean Mr. Fantom. "'I begin to think there's a good deal of truth in his art. "'Alas, I fear you mean I shall see Sir George's apparition a second time. "'Have courage.

"'You shall see the apparition no more. "'The husband I mention shall be as much alive as I am.' "'Mr. Fanton, to be sure. "'Impossible. I loved my first too well.' You could not love the first, better than you will love the second. Abbey hanged if my dear Stuart has not instructed him. He means Mr. Fontome to be sure. Ah, the thousand pound is our own.

Alas, you did not know, Sir George. As well as I do myself. I saw him with you in the Red Damoscularene, when he first made love to you. Your mother left you together under the pretense of receiving a visit from Miss Hothorn on her return from London. This is astonishing. You were a great admirer of single life for the first half hour.

Your refusals then grew fainter and fainter. With what ecstasy did Sir George kiss your hand when you told him you should always follow the advice of your mama? Every circumstance to a tittle. Then, lady, the wedding night. I saw you in your white satin night gallery. You would not come out of your dressing-room till Sir George took you out by force. He drew you gently by the hand.

You struggled that he was too strong for you. You blushed. He... Oh, stop there! Go no further! He knows everything. Truly, Mr. Conjurer, I believe you have been a whack in your youth. Mistress Abigail, you know what your good word costs Sir George? A purse of broad pieces. Mrs. Abigail.

The devil's in him. Pray, sir, since you have told so far you should tell my lady that I refused to take them. Tis true, child, he was forced to thrust them into your bosom. This rogue will mention a thousand pound if I don't take care. Pray, sir, though you are a conjurer, me things you need not be a blab. Sir, since I have now no reason to doubt of your art, I must beseecher. you to treat this apparition gently. It has the resemblance of my deceased husband. If there be any undiscovered secret, anything that troubles his rest, learn it of him. I must to that end be sincerely

informed by you, whether your heart be engaged to another. Have not you received the address of many lovers since his death? I have been obliged to receive more visits than have been agreeable. Was not Tinsal welcome? Aside. I'm afraid to hear an answer. to my own question. He was well recommended. Sir George, aside.

Rax. Of a good family. Tortures. Heer to a considerable estate. Ah, death. And you still love him? I am distracted. No, I despise him.

I found he had a design upon my fortune, was base, profligate, cowardly, and everything that could be expected from a man of the vilest principles. I'm recovered. Oh, madam, had you seen how like a scoundrel he looked when he left your ladyship in a swoon? Where have you left my lady, says I. In an elbow chair, child, says he. And where are you going, says I?

To town, child, says he. For to tell the truly child, says he, I don't care for living under the same roof with the devil, says he. Well, lady, I see nothing in all this that may hinder Sir George's spirit from being at rest. If he knows anything of what passes in my heart, he cannot but be satisfied of that fondness which I bear to his memory. My sorrow for him is always fresh when I think of him. He was the kindest, truest, tenderest, tears will not let me go on.

This quiet whore powers me. I shall discover myself, before my time. Madam, you may now retire and leave me to myself. Success attend you. I wish Mr. Fantom gets well off from this old dawn. I know he'll be with him immediately. Exeunt Lady Truman and Abigail. Sir George Solus. My heart is now at ease. She is the same dear woman I left her. Now for my revenge upon Fantome. I have, I shall cut the ceremonies short. A few words will do his business. Now, let me seat myself

inform. A good easy chair for a conjurer, this. Now, for a few mathematical scratches. A good-lucky scrawl that. Faith, I think it looks very astrological. These two or three magical pot-hooks about it make a complete conjurer's scheme. Ha ha ha ha ha, sir, are you there? Enter drummer. Now must I pour upon my paper. Enter Phantom, beating his drum. Pithy, don't make a noise. I'm busy. A pretty much, Prithy, beat that over again.

He beats and advances. Sir George, rising. Ha, ha. You're very perfect in the step of a ghost. You stock it majestically. Phantom advances. How the rogue stares, he acts it to admiration. I'll be hanged if he has not been practicing this half-hour in Mistress Abigail's wardrobe. Phantom starts, gives a rap upon his drum.

Oh, prithee, don't play the fool. Nay, nay, enough of this good Mr. Fantome. Phantom aside. Death, I'm discovered. This jade, Abigail. has betrayed me. Mr. Fantome, upon the word of an astrologer,

your thousand-pound bribe will never gain my lady Truman. Tis plain. She has told him all. Let me advise you to make off as fast as you can. Or I plainly perceive by my art Mr. Ghost will have his

bones broke. Phantom to Sir George. Looky, old gentleman, I perceive you have learned the secret from mistress Abigail. I have learned it from my art. Thy art. Preeti no more of that.

Look here, I know you are a cheat, as much as I am. And if thou'lt keep my counsel, I'll give thee ten broad pieces. I am not mercenary. Young man, I scorn thy gold. I'll make them up twenty. of art and that quickly or i'll raise such an apparition as shall an apparition old gentleman you must take your man i am not to be frightened with bug bears let me retire but for a few moments and i will give thee such a proof of my art why hath thou hast any hocus pocus tricks to play why canst not do them here the raising of a spirit requires certain secret mysteries to be performed, and word to be muttered in private.

Well, if I see through your trick, will you promise to be my friend? I will. Attend and tremble. Exit. Phantom Solace. A very solemn, old ass, but I smoke him. He has a mind to raise his price upon me. I could not think this slut would have used.

me thus i begin to grow horribly tired of my drum i wish i was well rid of it however i have got this by it that it has driven off tinsel for good and all i shan't have the mortification to see my mistress carried off by such a rival well whatever happens i must stop this old fellow's mouth i must stop this old fellow's mouth i must must not be sparing in hush money. But here he comes. Enter Sir George in his own habit. Ha, what's that? Sir George Truman? This can be no counterfeit.

His dress, his shape, his face, the very wound of which he died. Nay, then tis time to decamp. Runs off. Ha ha ha ha. Very well, good Sir George. The enemy has left me master the field. Here are the marks of my victory. This drum will hang up in my great hall as the trophy of the day. Enter Abigail. Sir George stands with his hand before his face in amusing posture.

Yonder he is. Oh, my conscience he has driven off the conjurer. Mr. Phantom, Mr. Phantom! I give you joy. I give you. you joy. What do you think of your thousand pounds now? Why does not the man speak? Pulls him by the sleeve. Sir George, taking his hand from his face. Ha! Oh! Tis my master! Shrieks. Running away, he catches her. Good mistress Abigail, not so fast. Are you alive, sir? He has given my shoulder such a cursed tweak. They must be real fingers.

feel him, I'm sure. What does think? Think, sir? Think? Troth, I don't know what you think. Pray, sir, how... No questions, good Abigail. Thy curiosity shall be satisfied in due time.

Where is your lady? Oh, I'm so frightened, and so glad. Where's your lady, I ask you? Mary, I don't know where I am myself. I can't forbear weeping for joy. Your lady, I say your lady, I must bring you to yourself with one pinch more. Oh, she has been talking a good while with the steward. Then he has opened the whole story to her. I'm glad he has prepared her.

Oh, here she comes. Enter Lady Truman, followed by Vellum. Where is he? Let me fly into his arms. My life, my soul, my husband. Oh, let me catch thee to my heart, dearest. women. Are you then still alive? And are you here? I can scarce believe my senses. Now am I happy indeed. My heart is too full to answer thee. How could you be so cruel to defer giving me that joy which you knew I must receive from your presence? You have robbed my life of some hours of happiness that ought to have been in it. It was to make our happiness the more sincere and unmixed.

There will now be no doubts to dash it. What has been the affliction of our lives has given a variety to them, and will hereafter supply us with a thousand materials to talk of. I am now satisfied that it is not in the power of absence to lessen your love towards me. And I am satisfied that it is not in the power of death to destroy that love which makes me the happiest of men. Was ever woman so blessed to find again the darling of her soul when she thought him lost forever? to enter into a kind of second marriage with the only man whom she was ever capable of loving. May it be as happy as our first. I desire no more. But believe me, my dear, I want words to express

those transports of joy and tenderness which are every moment rising in my heart whilst I speak to thee. Enter servants. Just as the steward told us, lads, look you there, if he bent with my lady already. He he, he! What a joyful night will this be for madam. As I was coming in at the gate, a strange gentleman whisked by me. But he took to his heels and made a way to the George.

If I did not see Master before me, I should have sworn it had been his honour. As given orders for the bells to be set ringing. Never trouble thy head about that, tis done. Sir George, to Lady John. Truman. My dear, long as much to tell you my whole story as you do to hear it. In the meanwhile, I am to look upon this as my wedding day. I'll have nothing but the voice of mirth and feasting in my house. My poor neighbors and my servants shall rejoice with me. My hall shall be free to everyone,

and let my cellars be thrown open. Ah, bless your honor, may you never die again. The same same good man that ever he was. Wura. Vellum, thou hast done me much service today. I know thou lovest Abigail, but she's disappointed in a fortune. I'll make it up to both of you. I'll give thee a thousand pound with her.

It is not fit there should be one sad heart in my house tonight. What you do for Abigail, I know is meant as a compliment to me. This is a new instance of your love. Mr. Bellum, You are a well-spoken man. Pray do you thank my master and my lady. Vellam, I hope you are not displeased with the gift I make you.

The gift is twofold. I receive from you, a virtuous partner, and a portion too, for which, in humble wise, I thank the donors. And so we bid good-night to both your honours. End of Act 5. Epilogue Tonight, the poet said, I stand, and he deserves the favour at my hand, who in my equipage their cause debating

has placed two lovers, and a third in waiting. If both the first should from their duty swerve, there's one behind the Wayansket in reserve. In his next play, if I would take this trouble, he promised me to make the number double. In troth, twas spoke like an obliging creature, for though it is simple, yet it shows good nature. My help thus asked, I could not choose but granted, and really I thought the play would want it, void as it is of all the usual arts to warm your fancies and to steal your hearts. No court intrigue, nor city cuckledom, no song, no dance, no music but a drum. No smutty thought in doubtful phrase expressed, and gentlemen, if so, pray where's the jest?

When we would raise your mirth, you hardly know, whether in strictness you should laugh or no, but turn upon the ladies in the pit, and if they redden, you are sure tis wit. Protect him then, ye fair ones, for the fair of all conditions are his equal care. He draws a widow, who of blameless carriage, true to her jointure, hates a second marriage. And, to improve a virtuous wife's delights, out of one man contrives two wedding nights. Nay, to oblige the sex in every state, a nymph of five and forty finds her mate. too long has marriage in this tasteless age with ill-bred raillery supplied the stage no little scribbler is of wit so bare but has his fling at the poor wedded pair our author deals not in conceits so stale for should the examples of his play prevail no man need blush though true to marriage vows nor be a jest though he should love his spouse thus has he done you british consorts right whose husbands should they pry like mine to-night

would never find you in your conduct slipping, though they turned conjurers to take you tripping. End of Epilogue. End of The Drummer, or The Haunted House, by Joseph Addison.