Glass.?. 1^.11^ 
 Bonk ."P-^i J:-^ 
 
i 
 
CHAXCERY SUIT! 
 
 IN n VE ACTS 
 
 FIRST PERFORMED AT 
 
 THE THEATRE ROYAL. COVENT GARDEN, 
 
 TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1830. 
 
 By B. B. PEAKE. 
 
 BALTIMORE : 
 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. ROBINSON, 
 
 ^ Cii'culaiing Librarj and Dramatic Repository, 
 
 1831. 
 

 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Sir Bernard Blazoncourt, . . Mr. Egertoi 
 Frederick Blazoncourt, [his son) Mr. Abbot. 
 Guy Thistlebloom, . . . .' Mr. Bartley 
 Jeremy Thistl -^om, {/lis bro- 
 ther, *he assumed 
 nar '>^ton^ . Mr. Warde. 
 Murphv ... Mr. Power. 
 Snare, . . Mr. Meadow 
 Winterfie. ^ Sir 
 
 ^crnu . Mr. Blanch; 
 
 Tapsly, {^Lan. Mr. F. Mat 
 
 Michael, ( }\'aiu Mr. Addisoi 
 
 Ben, (a Sailor,) . >. Evans. 
 
 Sheriff 's Officer, Fuller. 
 
 Clerky Servants, . Habli 
 
 Ennily .T^'avers. ..,.•»•. '\ 
 
 Mrst P®?.t,.\(V '^fiiclxrii Sii^ 
 • 'I'histlebioOin;^ ' y. 
 Mrs. Snare, . . . . , . .. 
 Jenn'y.,' {\E?ni(i/'<s •H'Hiti;,)' ' '. **.*• . 
 Mr,<. Y\| jllowly,' , ', .' ; .:■•,.'.•,,' . . 
 
 Miss Sallowfield, M. 
 
 Mrs. Gravebury, Misb 
 
 Mrs. Tapsly, Mrs. x 
 
 Scene—^ Village on the Coast, 
 
THE CHANCERY SUIT. 
 
 ACT. I. 
 
 SCENE I.— -Room in an Inn.— The Sea-beach visi- 
 ble from a nvindoiv. 
 
 Enter Tapsly and Michael. 
 
 Taps, Shut the door upstairs, Michael ; the Select 
 Vestry are getting noisy in their cups. 
 
 Voices, (without) Hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! 
 
 Mich. Oh, what a cruel disturbance, sure ! 
 
 Taps. Have you been up to the garret to your old 
 Aunt Rucket ? Mrs. Tapsly says she is worse. 
 
 Mic/i. Yes, Master ; she be near her end, I reck- 
 on. You have been very kind to the poor old bed- 
 ridden dame. 
 
 Ta^is. Why, Michael, your aunt is one of my fa- 
 mily, you know, and if we lose her, she will go off 
 at a good wholesome old age. 
 
 Mich, (ivijies his eyes) She was ninety-one last 
 goose day ! 
 
 Voices, {without) Hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! 
 
 Mich. Dang it, be quiet, can't ye, — that would 
 wake the devil. 
 
 Tajis. You must take three bottles more to the 
 gentlemen of the Select Vestry ; how many does that 
 make ? 
 
 Mich. Eleven of port and six of sherry, sir. 
 
4 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 
 
 Tafis. And all for the good of the parish. 
 
 Mich. Good for the Crown and Cushion too, mas- 
 ter. [ Exit. 
 
 Tafis. (loo^s q^y) Eh ! a postchaise come in! take 
 care of the luggage there ; this way, sir, if you 
 please. 
 
 Enter Jeremy Thistlebloom. 
 
 Jeremy. I must have a bed here to-night. 
 
 Ta/is. Yes, sir. — Chambermaid, light a fire in No. 
 6 ; the chimney may smoke a little at first, sir, but 
 it will soon go off. [jKxzV. 
 
 Jeremy. Smoky chimney ! I have just arrived from 
 London smoke. — So, Mr. Jeremy Thistlebloom, term 
 being over, this is your first visit to your native vil- 
 lage for these thirty years! — no one will recognise 
 me ; a multiplicity of daily practice in the Courts 
 has changed my once ruddy countenance to a pale 
 legal physiognomy: and then, instead of the air and 
 exercise to which I was formerly accustomed, the 
 only air I have inhaled has been that of Westminster 
 Hall : sometimes, for change of air, Guildhall. And 
 as for exercise, rising to address the Jury, sitting 
 down again, and walking in a perspiring gown and 
 wig between the doors of the Common Pleas and 
 King's Bench. 
 
 Ta/is. {ivithout) But I assure you, Mr. O'Doggrely. 
 
 O'Bog-. {without) And I assure you, Mr. Crown 
 and Cushion. 
 
 Tafis. {entering) There is a gentleman in the 
 room, sir. 
 
 O^Dog" {entering) And now there are two gentle- 
 men in the room, sirrah, leaving yourself out. {bows 
 to Jeremy,) Your most obedient, sir. {to Ta/isly.) 
 Ah! won't I have you down for this.^ {shows a small 
 viemorandum book.) 
 
 Tafis. I'm sure I beg your pardon, Mr. O'Doggrely, 
 
 O'Dog. When it is too late, sir. Another time, 
 beg my pardon before you commit the offence. So, 
 
Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 5 
 
 you have had a Select Vestry sitting and gormandi- 
 zing in your house. I counted seventeen empty bot- 
 tles, and a number of picked drumsticks of fowls; 
 I'll not put up with this ; pretty doings ! You may 
 go, Mr. Tapsly. 
 
 Tails, (aside) Curse his Irish impudence. [Exil, 
 
 O'Dog. {offers box) A pinch of genuine lundy-foot, 
 sir, — I feel myself, in duty bound, compelled to keep 
 the folks in this place a little in order. 
 
 Jeremy. You, i dare say, are quite in the right, 
 Sir ; but I am not aware that I deserve the honour 
 of your confidence. 
 
 O'Dog. I'll be bail you'll deserve it, sir. For the 
 well-doing of this village, I am appointed by myself 
 unanimously. Inspector General from the Lord of 
 the Manor's mansion, down to the Purveyor of asses 
 milk's pigsty ! 
 
 Jeremy, {aside) An eccentric, or a swindler, — (io 
 O'JDog) But now I look again, I think I have seen 
 you somewhere? 
 
 O'Dog. Yes, I often go there. 
 
 Jeremy. I am sure I have seen your face before. 
 Pardon my enquiry, — were you not, some three 
 years since, defendant in a case of libel in the Court 
 of King's Bench ? 
 
 G'Dog. Of which I was honourably acquitted. 
 Och I that I should not recollect you again, without 
 your gown and tails, for the individual and intellec- 
 tual barrister who pleaded my cause and got me off, 
 •—Mr.— Mr. — Mr. 
 
 Jeremy. Mr. Courtington. 
 
 O'Dog. Mr. Courtington, — welcome, sir. If you 
 are making any stay in these parts, I can show you 
 the way to the principal houses here — the Blazon- 
 courts, the Thistleblooms, the Murgatroyds, and the 
 Griffinses. 
 
 Jeremy, You are acquainted with Mr Thistle- 
 bloom ? 
 
6 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 
 
 0*Dog. Intimately ! the old Squire is as kind heart- 
 ed an oddity as ever lived. He has a charming little 
 female orphan under his protection, one Miss Emily 
 Travers. 
 
 Jeremy. Ah ! Ca/iart.J — I am glad to ascertain 
 that. 
 
 O'Dog. Beautiful creature, amiable, lovely, and in 
 want, (aside ) like myself. Sir, i wrote this on her; 
 f takes out book.J 
 
 " Oh happy the man loving Emily Travers, 
 If but in return, he could possibly have hers." 
 
 Jeremy. Humph ! don't see much in that. 
 
 O^Dog. That is because you are not acquainted 
 with family aifairs. Squire Thistlebloom, many 
 years ago, had a serious quarrel with his younger 
 brother, an ill-looking, cross grained, caustic sort of 
 fellow, as I am told ; he took hirrself off in a huff, 
 to seek his fortune, and has never been heard of 
 since. 
 
 Jeremy. Well ! what is all this to me ? 
 
 O^Dog. Nothing, whatever; excepting my assidu- 
 ity in making the neighbourhood known to you. If 
 you are for seeing Blazoncourt Castle, I'll get you a 
 peep. Sir Bernard Blazoncourt is as austere as a 
 cock vulture ; but his son, Mr. Frederick, is an ex- 
 cellent young gentleman, who occasionally honours 
 me by laughing at my jokes ; the worse the joke, the 
 louder he laughs. If every audience followed the same 
 example, how we modern dramatists v/ould thrive ! 
 
 Jeremy, {aside) I may obtain all information from 
 this Hibernian magpie. 
 
 O'Dog. Have you dined, Sir .-* 
 
 Jeremy. No, I was about to order dinner. 
 
 O'Dog. Leave that to me. I know this house 
 better than you do, Sir. 
 
 Jeremy, You are very kind, but I will not trouble 
 you. 
 
Act 1.1 THE CHANCERY SUIT. 7 
 
 0*Dog. No trouble at all, {rings bell) You like 
 fish ? We are famous for soles here. 
 
 Enter Michael. 
 
 Jeremy. Send your master. 
 
 Mich. Why as to that, if the gentleman there 
 wishes 
 
 O'Dog. {takes out his book) The rhyme for '* wai- 
 ter" is " traitor," urn — um. {Pretends to write.) 
 
 Mich. Oh! stop, Sir. Master will behere directly. 
 
 [Exit has till/. 
 
 Jeremy, {ajiart) Of what profession is this person;*, 
 he alarms every body by the mere sight of his red 
 book. Must be the tax-gatherer. 
 
 Re-enter Tapsly. 
 
 O'Dog. Some fried soles, {to Jeremy) — You said 
 you liked soles? a couple of roasted chickens and 
 an apple tart. 
 
 Jeremy. An excellent little dinner. 
 
 O^Dog. Leave me alone, Sir; and d'ye hear, Taps- 
 ly, a bottle of the capital Port wine you purchased 
 of Mr. Simpkin. 
 
 Tapsly. \ — I purchased Port of Mr. Simpkin.-* 
 
 O'Dog. {whis/iers to Ta/isly) Yes; the wine you 
 bought of the butler, who was dismissed from St. 
 Bernard Blazoncoun's. No reply. It is all down 
 here, {shoivs book). Where's your wife ? I'll see 
 the cloth laid myself; out with the best spoons and 
 forks, for you've got a rale gentleman in the house. — 
 {to Jeremy.) Excuse me a moment, Sir. [Exit. 
 
 Jeremy. Humph ! and pray, who may that exceed- 
 ingly officious person be ? 
 
 Tapsly. He is the pest of this village : the whole 
 neighbourhood are afraid of him. 
 
 Jeremy. Is he countenanced by the resident 
 sentry ? 
 
8 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 
 
 Tafisly. He would out-countenance any of them. 
 He has made his way into all the families, some say 
 by his pleasantry, others, by his impudence ; he 
 pokes his nose into every person's secrets, and turns 
 them to his own uses. 
 
 Jeremy. What is the meaning of that little red 
 book he carries ? 
 
 Tafisly. By that he regulates (as he calls it) the 
 affairs of the neighbourhood. 
 
 Jeremy. A village Solon ! 
 
 Tafisly. A plaguy impudent, presuming, good for 
 nothing 
 
 Re-enter O'Doggrely unseen /5y Tapsly ; fiats 
 his back. 
 
 O^Dog. My dear fellow, don't be after praising 
 yourself. Modesty is a beautiful quality in man. 
 Tafisly. [aside) Ahem ! the devil. 
 O'Dog". fivrites iji his book, and reads aloud. ) 
 
 " If a thing that is stolen is sweetest, 
 Then Simpkin's Port is the neatest. 
 And Tapsly, a rogue the completest." 
 
 [Exit Tafisly, hastily. 
 
 O'Dog. That was not in his line at all ? 
 
 Jeremy. An oddity ! — Sir, having taken the trou- 
 ble to be my caterer, perhaps you will favour me 
 with your company to dinner ? 
 
 O'Bog-. With great pleasure, Sir. I'll dine with 
 you out of gratitude. 
 
 Jeremy. Gratitude! 
 
 (fDog. Yes .; because you got me out of the libel 
 case. 
 
 Jeremy. But I have a curiosity to ascertain how 
 you contrive to keep this house and the neighbour- 
 hood in such order ? 
 
 0*Dog. Very easily. Sir. By the mere force of 
 ridicule— ridicule,— a mighty engine, if properly ap- 
 
Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 9 
 
 plied. All the sensible folks of the place (whom I 
 never dared to lampoon) say, that I am of more ser- 
 vice in repressing scandal, destroying petty tyranny, 
 and diminishing petty larceny, than tin acts of par- 
 liament Gould possibly be. 
 
 Jeremy. What first put this into your bead ? 
 
 O'Dog. With the frankness of an Emerald Island, 
 er, ril tell you. Devil a soul did I know when I ar- 
 rived here, and had no means of an introduction. 
 One day I was walking outside Blazoncourt Castle, 
 when I perceived two little wags of boys chalking 
 these words on the wall : 
 
 " Large park and no deer, 
 Large cellar and ho beer, 
 My Lord Skinflint lives here.'* 
 
 Jeremy. What had that to do with it ? 
 
 O'Dog. Every thing. Between ourselves, the 
 house-keeping of Blazoncourt Castle was known to 
 be rather shy. "Large park and no deer" was in 
 every urchin's mouth. Now mind, a week after this, 
 the lines were obliterated. An ox was roasted whole 
 on the lawn, and a hogshead of ale muddled all the 
 heads in the village. *'Oh, ho ! is it there ;" rumi- 
 nated I. " Here's a grand transmogrification effect- 
 ed by the mere force of a ridiculous triplet." My 
 eyes were opened, my stomach was empty. I put 
 some satirical lines together; first boldly lampoon- 
 ed the attorney, one " Mr. SnarCy" who I found 
 out was very "/bwr/ of a hare.'' Succeeded: got 
 invited to dinner. Have carried every pouit by 
 a pen with very little point ever since, and am 
 the most useful and esteemed member of the com- 
 munity. 
 
 Jeremy. It must require some skill to avoid giving 
 offence ? 
 
 O'Dog. Therein consists my ingenuity; but come, 
 Mr. Courtington, and o\ er a bottle of Tapsly's best 
 
10 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 
 
 Simpkins's BlazoncouitPort, I'll detail the history of 
 the whole village. [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — The Library in Blazoncourt Castle', Sir 
 Bernard '&lazoi^cq\jkt discovered with Letters at 
 a Table, 
 
 Sir Be.r. Claim upon claim : importunate creditors! 
 and yet if more timber is fallen, the busy tongues of 
 the neighbourhood will proclaim my poverty. If 
 that suit in Chancery were ended ! but how .«* Stifle 
 conscience, the deed is done, the bolt is forged. 
 Forged! — blistered be my tongue for the utterance 
 cf that word. ( looks round.) Reflection away! — 
 money must be raised, — more mortgage, f rings bell. J 
 The splendour of the House of Blazoncourt shall 
 not be dimmed. 
 
 Enter Winterfield. 
 
 Ah I Winterfield : have you dispatched one of the 
 grooms to Mr. Snare ? 
 
 mnter, I think I did. I believe I did, Sir Bernard. 
 
 Sir Ber. You think you did — old man, your servi- 
 ces are becoming useless to me. 
 
 If inter. Pardon, gracious Master, the infirmity of 
 your aged domestic ; I fear my memory fails me. 
 
 Sir Ber. So I perceive, to my torment: did I not 
 tell you that James was to answer the bell ? 
 
 Winter. In sooth, I forgot to tell James that. It is 
 not the young man's fault, but my misfortune. 
 
 Sir Ber. Go now at once, whilst your recollection is 
 fresh, and discover if Mr Snare, my solicitor, has 
 been sent for } 
 
 Winter. Yes, yes, Sir Bernard. 
 
 Sir Ber. Quick — old man. 
 
 Winter. Oh yes, Sir Bernard. (A tap at the door, 
 llinterjield ofiens it, enter Mr. Snare. J Now, I re- 
 collect, Sir Bernard, I did send for Mr. Snare, two 
 hours ago. Mr. Snare, Sir Bernard! [Exit, 
 
Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 11 
 
 Sir Ber. (aside.) It is well for me that the do- 
 tard's memory is gone ? 
 
 Snare. You sent for me, Sir ? 
 
 Sir Ber. Mr. Snare, here are letters of immediate 
 consequence ; the long delayed Chancery suit is now- 
 likely to terminate, the result of which will place 
 the Woodburn Estate and eighteen years' accumula- 
 tions of the rents into my possession. 
 
 Snare. So, Sir, we have every reason to hope ; but 
 the glorious uncertainty — hew! 
 
 Sir Ber. Do not pester me with your doubts, Sir. 
 The case is clear: — have I not the strongest proof of 
 the illegitimacy of Emily Travers, the other claim- 
 ant to the property ? 
 
 Snare. Certainly, Sir. 
 
 Sir Ber. Is it not recorded in her father's own hand- 
 writing ? — In a few weeks, these large domains must 
 inevitably be mine. Now, Mr. Snare, my immediate 
 ol^ect with you is, that you, without loss of time, 
 must raise me three thousand pounds. 
 
 Snare. Will you condescend, Sir Bernard, to name 
 the securities on which this sum is to be advanced ? 
 
 Sir Ber. Will not the name of Blazoncourt, Sir — ? 
 
 Snare. Sir, the name is of that respectability, that 
 —I have the most profound respect for it — but the 
 whole estate is mortgaged to its uttermost value. I 
 know but of one immediate method of raising the 
 money, if you would permit it ? 
 
 Sir Ber. Proceed. 
 
 Snare. If you would consent to my application to 
 the worthy and wealthy Mr. Thistlebloom ^ 
 
 Sir Ber. How dare you, who know me, offer such 
 an insult > Before I could stoop to ask favour of that 
 hated upstart, I would wish myself a breathless 
 corpse. 
 
 Snare, (trevibling.) Sir Bernard, I had no inten- 
 tion to — 
 
 Sir Ber. The very name irritates me. Is not Mr. 
 Thistlebloom the means of supporting the dilatory 
 Chancery Suit, preventing my possession of the 
 
12 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. 
 
 Woodburn Estate ? Does he not protect the minion, 
 Emily Travers ? I would give a thousand pounds, 
 if that girl could be removed from the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Snare. Indeed, sir Bernard! — I hope I could con- 
 trive it for less than that. 
 
 Sir Ber. How ! speak. 
 
 Snare. Every man has his weak point. Now, [ 
 own contrivance to be one of my week points. Miss 
 Emily Travers is defendant in the Woodburn Chan- 
 cery Suit. I will find some little flaw, some little 
 loop-liole by which we can make it appear she has 
 incurred the penalty of contempt of Court. 
 
 Sir Ber. Ay ? 
 
 Snare. If I can contrive that, we shall have her 
 snugly locked up in the Fleet Prison. 
 
 Sir Ber. Remove her hence, and depend on my 
 lasting favour ; but this money must be sought. I, 
 have plate, pictures, library ; you know the vahie, 
 lose no time— go. 
 
 Snare. I will endeavour to obey your wishes. Good 
 morning. Sir Bernard, (boivsj — How plentiful the 
 pheasants are in your shrubberies! — f aside ) dear 
 me ! with a little gravy and bread sauce I — don't take 
 the hint — I've earned my thirteen and four-pence, I 
 think. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Ber. That hireling, for his interest's sake, will 
 not betray his trust, (look at letters J What I are 
 traders and mechanics to reproach the representa- 
 tive of an ancient House? — insolence! — and yet, ac- 
 cursed fate impels me to their power, exposes me to 
 their scolFs. 
 
 Enter Frederick. 
 Ha! Frederick—what sport to-day ^ 
 Fred. Not a shot, sir. 
 Sir Ber. You are out of spirits. 
 Fred. I own I am depressed, sir, — ^my thoughts 
 ever revert to one painful subject. 
 
Act. I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 13 
 
 SirBer. Ah, what may that be ? 
 
 Fred. Pardon, sir. I have for some time past been 
 impressed with the melancholy idea that — {hesitates) 
 
 Sir Ber. Speak, Frederick. 
 
 Fred. That your affairs are in a state of embar- 
 rassment ! 
 
 Sir Ber, Who has told you this, sir ? 
 
 Fred. On my honour, no one. Forgive me, my 
 dear father, but I have daily watched your anxious 
 eye, your mental torment, and the quivering of your 
 parched lip. Some secret fatal to your peace is un- 
 dermining your health. I behold a vast expendi- 
 ture ; I have noticed the noble oaks, the pride of 
 our park, falling to the ground under the woodman's 
 axe ! 
 
 Sir Ber. Peace, Frederick ; and learn that your 
 near and dear connexion to me gives you no right to 
 investigate my affairs or to pry into my secret 
 thoughts. Let it suffice you to hear that I am not 
 yet reduced to the poverty you conjecture,— that I 
 am rich, inexhaustibly rich ! 
 
 Fred. Your word is ever sacred to me ! pardon my 
 inconsiderate enquiry. {Sir Bernard gives him his 
 hand) I— I had intended, sir, to address you on ano- 
 ther subject — your advice on the choice of a profes- 
 sion. 
 
 Sir Ber. A profession ! Let those who are not pos- 
 sessed of an honourable and ancient title, and of a 
 noble estate, seek professions. The heir of the 
 House of Blazoncourt will not be under the necessity 
 to toil for bread. In the mean time, Frederick, 
 though I do not wish to control your actions, it will 
 gratify me if you will hold yourself with more re- 
 serve to the family of Mr. Thistleblocm. I have a 
 just and rooted objection to them. Adieu, my son ! 
 {looks at letters) Yes, the splendid liveries will arrive 
 on Wednesday ; the suite of rooms on the north wing 
 are to be superbly refitted, preparatory to the visit 
 
14 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake. 
 
 of the Duke. And, Frederick, you are not forgot- 
 ten, — your new phaeton and greys, your father's gift, 
 are probably now on the road from London. {Exit* 
 Fred, I am astounded ; how could I have been so 
 mistaken, — how ridiculous must I have appeared ! — 
 Adieu, blue devils ! — I'll knock down the birds again 
 ha ! ha ! ha ! Now 1 may burn my literary attempt, 
 (the employment of many a solitary hour!) I dare 
 not offend Sir Bernard's notions of dignity by letting 
 him know that I had written a Comedy — a Comedy 
 complete in all but the title : I trembled at my fa- 
 ther's allusion to the Thistleblooms. Had he con- 
 jectured the real cause of my visits there — to gaze at 
 my adored Emily, to sigh, — plague ! I shall lose my 
 spirits again. Hey for my new phaeton and gallant 
 greys '• [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III — Garden of Blazoncourt Castle — an Ar" 
 bour. 
 
 Enter O'Doggrely. 
 
 0*Dog. V faith, that Mr. Courtington the barrister 
 is a shrewd old boy ; he discovered, that though the 
 planets have neglected to shine prosperously on me, 
 I was a Trinity-man, and a gentleman born. Now, 
 Where's Mr. Frederick, whose confidant I have the 
 honour to be ? Old Courtington wants a few mi- 
 nutes' conversation with him. 
 
 Enter Frederick. 
 
 Fred. Ah ! O'Doggrely. 
 
 O^Dog. Pray, sir, what are your movements to be 
 to-morrow ? do you intend to go shooting or love- 
 making, — do you mean to be a Leveret killer, or a 
 Lady-killer ? I like that conceit. 
 
 *' Will your honour kill a hare 
 Or will you visit lady fair?" 
 
 Fred. A truce to your rhymes, sir, — carry them to 
 the bellman. 
 
Act I.J THE CHANCERY SUIT. 15 
 
 O'Dog. " Carry them to the belhnan, 
 
 You've said a pretty think ; 
 r I'll take them to your belle^ man, — 
 A belle that wants a ring. " 
 
 Fred, I will not have any jesting on that subject. 
 fAfiart) Before I destroy the product of my fancy, 
 I feel the petty vanity of an Author to ascertain if 
 my Comedy has merit in the opinion of another. I 
 will request O'Doggrely to read it — he has written 
 for the Stage. — Hark'ye, collegian, I think well of 
 your liter^y taste, — I wish to ask your ideas on a 
 particular subject? 
 
 O'Dog. Name your subject, and I will overflow 
 you with ideas. Byron has aptly remarked that an 
 Irishman with a little whiskey in his head is the 
 most imaginative being in existence.— I've had a drop. 
 
 Fred. First, I must demand your secrecy ? 
 
 O'Dog. Oh— honour! 
 
 i^rec?. Know then, to amuse my vacant hours, that 
 I have attempted to write a Comedy. You smile. 
 
 O^Dog. One ought to smile at a Comedy, particu- 
 larly if it is sentimental. 
 
 Fred. 1 have interspersed a little sentiment, — what 
 else can you do with your heroine ? 
 
 O'Dog. Make her an Irishwoman, and give her a 
 little whiskey. 
 
 Fi'ed. The dramatic authors of the present day 
 are abused for their inferiority to their predecessors, 
 justly on the score of wit ; but I apprehend that the 
 public of the present day would decry in a modern 
 production the intrigue, the double-entendre^ and the 
 display of vice which may have been embodied in 
 the originals from which the female characters were 
 formerly drawn. Now, I have chosen a model of 
 beauty, virtue and simplicity, for my heroine. 
 
 F?iter Sir Bernard and Snare at the back, 
 unseen. 
 
 Fred. What think you of Miss Emily Travers } 
 O'Dog, Charming! 
 Fred. Exquisite! 
 
16 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake' 
 
 O^Dog-, Milk-punch is nothing to her. 
 
 Fred. Pshaw! To answer the purpose for which I 
 own an irresistible impulse — I will confide in you — I 
 have made use of her character. 
 
 Sir Ber. fapart) How ! f retires to arbour^ fol- 
 lowed by Snare, listening-. J 
 
 Fred. I took her as I found her, — lovely, interest- 
 ing, open-hearted. Now, my dear O'Doggreiy, you 
 see how much I rely on your secrecy in this affair ; 
 if it was to reach the ears of my father, I should be 
 ruined. 
 
 Sir Ber. (ajiart) Indeed ! 
 
 Fred. You know, for some reasons which I cannot 
 explain, he entertains a dislike to the poor young 
 lady. 
 
 0*Dog. That's not entertaining at all! he is too 
 ould for his gallantry now. 
 
 Fred. Well, in the hope of throwing a little more 
 spirit into my dialogue, I certainly have, I own, ta- 
 ken some liberties with her character, but this was 
 to aid my plot! 
 
 Snare, {afiart) His plot! 
 
 O^Dog. Och, by the hooky ! if Sir Bernard catches 
 you plotting! {laughs.) 
 
 Fred. Listen I I have represented my little he- 
 roine—— 
 
 O'Dog. That's your Emily Travers, you mean. 
 
 Fred. Hush ! I have represented her as an op- 
 pressed creature, but, with the mild dignity of her 
 manner, overturning the schemes of a powerful op- 
 ponent and his rascally legal agent. 
 
 Snare, (a/iart) That is libellous. 
 
 0*Do£c. 1 hope you have put nervous language into 
 her mouth ; 
 
 Fred. I have; to upho!d her just rights and to 
 create the utter confusion of her unprincipled en* 
 cmies ! 
 
 Sir Ber. Cafiart) Do I hear correctly ? 
 
 0*Dog. If you love me, don't spare the lawyer, 
 or the big rogue his employer. 
 
Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 17 
 
 Snare, fafiart) D*ye hear that ? 
 
 O'Dog. On the score of poetical justice, the whole 
 house will go with you. 
 
 Fred. I have not yet done that, but I intend to 
 load tnem both with opprobriunm, and expose them 
 to infamy. 
 
 Sir Ber. (a/iart) Furies ! what does he contem- 
 plate ? 
 
 Fred, (looks round) Hush! what was that ? 
 
 0*Dog. Nothing ! Listeners never hear any good 
 of themselves, so never mind. 
 
 Fred. I am puzzled by what name to call my bold 
 attempt. 
 
 O'Dog" There is certainly a title wanted. 
 
 Fred. Yes : the title is wanted, and that is very 
 essential ; come this way. Sir Bernard will now be 
 taking his evening walk in the garden. — Come, and 
 I will put you in possession of all I have as yet done 
 in this matter — ha ! ha ! How the world will stare, if 
 I should succeed ! 
 
 O'Dog". You must keep your name concealed, be- 
 cause of the newspapers, you know. 
 
 Fred. That would at once reveal it to my father. 
 You shall hear the rest — •' thereby hangs a tale." 
 
 O'Dog. You will be applauded to the skies for this 
 your maiden effort ; but lay it on the confounded 
 lawyer and his patron as thick and as hot as mus- 
 tard, my dear fellow. 
 
 [Exeunt Frederick and O'Doggrely, 
 
 Sir Bernard and Snare come forward* 
 
 Snare. Pretty doings, Sir Bernard ! 
 
 Sir Ber. Frederick a traitor to his father, treatmg 
 the matter with such levity, and with such a confi- 
 dant — he named Emily Travers, her powerful oppo- 
 nent. 
 
 Snare. And his rascally legal agent. 
 
 2* 
 
18 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake, 
 
 Sir Ber. How has Frederick discovered that the 
 title is wanted ? 
 
 Snare. I cannot divine, sir; at any rate, we must 
 take time by the forelock, and endeavour to place 
 Miss Travers in safe custody. Lay it on the lawyer 
 as hot as mustard, — well, well, the lawyer must go 
 to work then. 
 
 Sir Ber' Away, Snare ! be cautious and diligent. 
 
 {Exit, 
 
 Snare' Miss Emily shall be a prisoner of the War- 
 den of the Fleet before to-morrow night — rascally a- 
 gent, indeed! 
 
 Re-enter O'Doggrely with a manuscript in his 
 hand. 
 
 O^Dog. A title wanted— wanted a title, we'll call 
 it " Rascality or Rum and Robbery.''* Oh, for a ti- 
 tle, a good title, {sees Snare) Och, old vinegar vi- 
 sage! y Exit running. 
 
 Snare. Turn out that mad Irishman. {Exit, 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
 ACT^II. 
 
 SCENE \,—An Antichamber in Thistlebloom Hall. 
 Enter Y.'^w.y followed by Jenny. 
 
 Emily. Jenny, Jenny ! 
 
 Jenny. I am here, Miss. 
 
 Emily. Have I been enquired for in the drawing- 
 room ? 
 
 Jenny. No, miss; the ladies are playing at cards. 
 Mrs. Snare and Mrs. Post wrangling, as they always 
 do when they have a friendly evening together. 
 
 Emily. And Mr. Thistlebloom ^ 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 19 
 
 Jenny. The Old Gentleman has dropt off to 
 sleep. 
 
 Emily. Old Gentleman! You are too familiar, 
 Jenny. 
 
 Jenny. You can't deny he is old, miss ; and I know 
 from my Christmas boxes that he is a Gentleinan ; 
 so Where's the harm in calling him the Old Gentle- 
 man ? 
 
 Emily. Well, have you been to the farm ? Any 
 l^ter, my good girl ? 
 
 Jenny, {giving a note from her fiocket.) There it 
 is, miss. What, miss, an't you going to read it now ^ 
 
 Emily. Why should I read it now ? 
 
 Jenny. I don'c know ; but somehow I like to look 
 at you when you read Mr. Frederick's letters. 
 
 Emily. On your life, Jenny, be silent. I have 
 trusted you more than ever mistress did her maid. 
 
 Jenny. And I am proud to say, that I have been 
 more faithful than ever maid was to mistress. Pray 
 read the note, miss. 
 
 Emily. To oblige yow, Jenny, I will, (o/iens and 
 reads.) 
 
 Jenny, {obsei-ving Emily) Ah, ah ! I thought how 
 it would be ; the colour comes into her cheek like a 
 carnation. She smiles, she sighs, she reads a line 
 over again ; a l|ear starts in her eye ; she kisses the 
 letter, and is as happy as a bird, {takes out handker^ 
 chtef\) Oh, it is catching— thank ye, miss. 
 
 Emily. Why do you thank me, Jenny ? 
 
 Jenny. O, Miss, it is as good as a lesson to see you. 
 I shall know how to deport myself when I receive a 
 note from my own true love ; and I shall have one 
 soon, miss; my dear Dicky is learning to write. 
 
 Emily. Hush ! I must return to the drawing-room. 
 
 Jenny. Stay one moment, miss; the ladies are 
 wrapped up in their cards, and won't ask for you. I 
 wonder wny Mr. Frederick don't go down on his 
 knees to the crusty old Barrow Knight, his father, 
 and say what he wants. I'll warrant me, you 
 
20 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peakc. 
 
 wouldn't find much difficulty in persuading your 
 guardian, Mr. Thistlebloom. 
 
 Emily. Impossible ! I am peculiarly situated. Mr. 
 Thistlebloom is a most eccentric character — kind, 
 yet suddenly irritable ; and if circumstances permit- 
 ted that I could disclose my secret to him, he would 
 in all probability burst into laughter in my face. 
 
 Jenny, Ah! that is his odd way, miss; I have 
 seen him in the midst of a merry tale with the tears 
 trickling down his strawberry cheeks. 
 
 Emily. Mr. Thistlebloom has the singular habit 
 of not appreciating that which is said to him at the 
 moment. 
 
 Jenny. He never laughs at a joke until ten minutes 
 after it is uttered. 
 
 Emily. Nor expresses pity for distress, until he 
 has had time to reflect on it ; but I shall be missed 
 at the tea-table. Jenny, {fioints to letteVy) be cau- 
 tious. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — Drawing-room at Thistlebloom's. — 
 A Card-table^ round which are seated Mrs. 
 Snare, Mrs. Post, Mrs. Willowly, Miss Sal- 
 LOwFiELD, Mrs. Gravebury ; — Guy Thistle- 
 bloom asleep, in an arm chair with a handkerchief 
 over his head: Tea table at the back^ servants in 
 attendance. 
 Mrs. Snare. It is quite provoking, Mrs. Post, — 
 
 Pam again ! 
 
 Mrs. Post. Fortune favours me. 
 
 Mrs. Snare, Particularly — ha ! ha! — there was an 
 
 adage that 'they who were unlucky at cards were 
 
 happy in their matrimonial speculations.'— (rtszc/e to 
 
 Miss Sallowjield) Mr. Post has been dead these ten 
 
 years. 
 
 Mrs. Post. Shall I trouble you to put in your loo 
 
 and deal, instead of talking, Mrs. Snare ^ 
 
 Mrs Jfillow. I declare Mr. Thistlebloom is asleep! 
 Mrs. Post, Indeed.-* Emily, dear, where is Emily.^ 
 
Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 21 
 
 Enter Emily. 
 
 It is quite shocking that he, the only gentleman in 
 the room, shouM sit snoring there, in company with 
 six females. , 
 
 Emily. It is a pity to wake hitn ; he has been in 
 exercise the whole day. 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Then a little nap may make him a- 
 greeable. 
 
 Mrs. Post' {to Emily) Mr. Thistlebloom will scold 
 you for lukewarm tea. 
 
 Emily, {taps his shoulder) Sir, sir, — Mr. Thistle- 
 bloom. 
 
 Thistle, {half asleefi) Throw him into the horse- 
 pond, neck and heels ! 
 
 Mrs, Post, {rising and apart to Emily) Wake my 
 brother at once, Emily, for he is apt to utter the 
 strangest words in his sleep, and we have the cler- 
 gyman's lady here' 
 
 Emily, (shakes him gently) My dear sir- 
 
 Thistle. Give me my whip, {ivaking) Hey, hallo ! 
 bless me ! have I been napping, eh ^ 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Why, my good Mr, Thistlebloom, 
 whereabouts is your gallantry } 
 
 Thistle. I'faith, Madam, I believe it is about fifty- 
 nine years of age, and a little the worse for wear. 
 
 Mrs. Snare. How could you sleep, whilst we were 
 talking ? 
 
 Thistle I was dreaming of a water-mill. 
 
 Mrs. Post. Will you join our round game, brother? 
 
 Thistle. Not by any manner of means, I hate cards, 
 they send me to sleep. 
 
 Emily. Some tea, sir ^ 
 
 Thistle. By all manner of means — like tea — keeps 
 me awake ! 
 
 Emily, (handing him a cufi) How did you find the 
 unfortunate cottager to-day, sir, whom your humani- 
 ty led you to visit — poor Gilbert, who broke his 
 arm, and has an invalid wife and numerous family } 
 
22 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 
 
 Thistle. HslI ha! ha! fsi/is tea^ and bursts out 
 laughing at intervals J Ha '• ha! ha ! 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Well I should have thought that no 
 laughing matter. 
 
 Mrs. Post, My brother is laughing at the last joke 
 he thought of, before he went to sleep. 
 
 Thistle, Ha! ha! ha! ha! I met the Irish poet, 
 O'Doggrely. He was expecting a letter from Dub- 
 lin, — ha ! ha ! ha ! — the postman was an hour beyond 
 his time. You know how O'Doggrely keeps folks in 
 order. Instead of saying to the postman, " You ras- 
 cal ! — what makes you so late ?" out comes his little 
 red book, — ha ! ha ! ha ! The postman turned pale, 
 and O'Doggrely wrote, — ha! ha! ha! — I shan't for- 
 get the joke if I was to live a hundred years, — he 
 wrote, — ha! ha! ha! 
 
 " I wish that our letter man 
 Would turn out a better man! 
 For I must say at most. 
 He's as dull as a Post." 
 
 Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Mnter Jenny, introducing O'Doggrely. 
 
 Jenny, Mr. O'Doggrely, sir. 
 
 Thistle, Talk of the devil— well ! 
 
 0*Dog. Ladies, your servant. Mr.^Thistleblocm, 
 yours. 
 
 Thistle. Well, any thing new, — any thing new in 
 the little red book ? 
 
 G*Dog. O, I've a subject: a Select Vestry have 
 been feeding to-day at the tavern ; every man Jack 
 shall hear of it to-morrow. It shall be sung under 
 their windows by a chorus of half-starved paupers ! 
 I've touched them off. I've a remarkably clear head. 
 
 Mrs. Snare- {afiart) Yes — nothing in it — 
 
 O'Dog. freads fio?n/iously) 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 23 
 
 1 " Aid me, ye Nine, to abuse the Select Vestry ! 
 
 \ They'd no thoughts for the poor, though they had for 
 
 ' the pastry. 
 
 1 hey closed up the doors, and they closed up their 
 hearts, 
 
 And met to discuss— fowls, fish, flesh, and tarts." 
 
 Thistle, (sighs) Ah! 
 
 O'Dog. Ah ! why is that ah } 
 
 Thistle. Poor Gilbert ! there he lay with his arm 
 in a spHnter, his pallid wife gazing on him in acute 
 distress, while the little hungry children were cry- 
 ing around the bed for food, {takes out handkerchiefs 
 and wee/is) Pshaw ! Ladies, mind your game at 
 cards ; I am an old fool ! 
 
 £inily. Dear sir ! such feelings do honour to hu- 
 man nature. 
 
 O'Dog. Philanthropy is the prettiest of virtues. — 
 I'll make a powerful impression on him by compas- 
 sionate eloquence — speaking of charity, sir,— when 
 Scipio Africanus was in the zenith of his glory, he — 
 
 Thistle, {chuckles) Ha! na! ha! {continues to 
 laugh) Pastry and vestry ! hearts and tarts ! ha ! ha! 
 ha! 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Mrs. Post, it is unbearable ! 
 
 Mrs. Post. Mrs. Snare, I request you to be less 
 intemperate ! {altercation at table) 
 
 O'Dog. Faith, there's an insurrection among the 
 Tabbies. 
 
 Mrs. Snare » I play no more, {rising from table) 
 No : I have expressed my conviction of the fact. If 
 you have a penchant for losing your money — good. 
 I never will sit down to cards with a certain person 
 here, again. 
 
 Thistle. Hey, hey, ladies ! what is the matter > 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Your sister, sir, can best explain. 
 
 Thistle. Sister, Mrs. Post, what is it } 
 
 0*Dog. {aside) Post turns a deaf ear ! 
 
 Thistle. Will somebody explain ^ {altercation be- 
 tween all the ladies) 
 
24 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. , 
 
 Emily. Listen to reason. | 
 
 O'Dog. \aside) Five Tabbies, and expect anyr^ 
 reason! I will reduce them to order, {takes out his\ 
 hooky and iilaces himself in the groufi. They are im~ ] 
 mediately silent. He ivrites ivith his Jiencil) "Tab- 
 bies, — rabies!" 
 
 Thistle, Silence is obtained. Mrs. Willowly, I 
 beg I may be immediately informed what has hap- 
 pened. 
 
 Mrs. Willow. My friend Mrs. Snare has avowed it, 
 and I am bound to believe her. Good night, sir. ; 
 
 [CurtsieSy and Exit, 
 
 Thistle, Avowed what — avowed what — what the 
 devil has she avowed ? Will no one answer ? Mrs. 
 Gravebury, madam, I entreat — I — 
 
 Mrs. Grave, {curtseying formally') I have the 
 honour to wish you a very good evening, sir. {Exit, 
 
 Thistle. There are certain lengths to which a man 
 may strain his temper, or his patience; but, fire and 
 fury, the devil and Doctor Faustus, I will know the 
 meaning of this disagreement in my own house. 
 Miss Sallowfield, I insist upon your expounding the 
 riddle. 
 {Miss Salloivfield fioints to the card-table^ mournfully 
 
 exhibits an emfity purse ^ jiuts her handkerchief to 
 
 her eyesy and exit,) 
 Are they all poisoned, or all mad, or all — ^no, they 
 have had nothing but tea. Sister, you once was a 
 woman of sense. 
 
 Mrs. Post. Do I live ? can I live under such impui- 
 tation ! Oh ! oh ! oh I (hysterically.) Snare, Snare, 
 Snare, Snare. 
 
 Mrs, Snare, Yes, 'twas /did it ; and that was the 
 last game of cards I shall ever play in this house. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 Thistle. In the name of fury, what did she do ? 
 
 Enter Jenny hastily. 
 
 Jenny. Help ! Miss Sallowfield has fainted away 
 on the stairs. {Runs out. 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 25 
 
 Thistle. Sister, sister ! 
 
 Emily. Speak, madam. 
 
 Mrs. Post. Oh! — What at my years is the most 
 inestimable point ? — reputation ! What at my age is 
 the greatest delight ? — a friendly game at cards ! Her 
 base insinuations ^vill destroy all ; my reputation ! 
 my happiness ! my only amusement! Exclude me 
 from a card table, and my existence would be no 
 longer bearable. Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 Thistle ^y\/h?iX has Mrs. Snare done, I say ? 
 
 Mrs. Post. She has called me a cheat. Oh ! oh ! 
 oh ! At my time of life. Oh ! oh ! {sinks in a chair) 
 Oh ! oh ! 
 
 Thistle. Help ! burnt feathers ! brandy — 
 {All surround Mrs. Post, atte7nfiting to revive her. 
 
 She has a pack of cards in her hand^ which Jiy 
 
 about at every sob.) [Scene closes in, 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Room in the Inn. 
 
 Enter Jeremy Thistlebloom. 
 
 Jeremy. Now to prepare for a meeting with my 
 elder brother and his (family. What a fool's animo- 
 sity have I nourished ! brooding over a bitter feeling 
 for one third of a brief existence: — but the cause — 
 the cause was deeply rooted — pooh ! the cause is 
 over, and we will shake hands out of court. Ah, 
 Guy, Guy Thistlebloom, what a contrast was there 
 between your character and mine ! you were sensi- 
 tive, and easily moved to the extremes of grief and 
 joy ; I, cold, perverse, obdurate — but stone in time 
 will wear away, and my hard heart now beats to em- 
 brace my relatives again.^ — {goes to table) Let me 
 again peruse the letter I have addressed to my bro- 
 ther ; the first I have written to him these thirty 
 years. — {reads) •* Dear Guy, many years since, your 
 ' younger brother, as eccentric a being as yourself, 
 •left your roof with the intention of quitting his 
 
26 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Feake. 
 
 * country for ever ; but circumstances induced him 
 *to change his name, and pursue an honourable and 
 
 * lucrative profession in London. If you have not 
 
 * forgotten and can forgive, welcome will again be a 
 
 * reconciliation to your still affectionate brother, Je- 
 
 * remy Thistlebloom." — So, that shall go, (folds and 
 seals) and how will the epistle be received? {rings 
 bell J We shall meet, shake hands, recount old sto- 
 ries, and never quarrel again ! 
 
 £nter Michael. 
 
 Mich, {sobbing) Oh — O — did you ring, sir. 
 
 Jeremy. Yes — this letter must be conveyed to Mr. 
 Thistlebloom's. What makes your eyes so red, boy? 
 
 Mich. Oh — O — I've been a crving. 
 
 Jeremy. A big fellow like you crying? 
 
 Mich. I can't help it — old Aunt Rucket — poor old 
 'oman ! died — she was only ninety-two. 
 
 Jeremy. Only ninety-two! Well, she has paid 
 the debt which we must all pay to nature. ' 
 
 Mich. She's gotten no debts, fsobsj I'm left her 
 executioner ! If you ring the bell any more, I shan't 
 come up to you again. 
 
 Jeremy, llie devil you won't! 
 
 Mich. Master has given me leave to "go over to 
 the Lawyer's who has got Aunt Rucket's will, and ! 
 to buy a bit of crape to put on my white hat for 
 mourning — so. Cousin Ben is to wait on the compa- | 
 ny. — {calls off) Come in, Ben. 
 
 Enter Ben. 
 
 Show yourself to the gentleman, Ben — sir, this here 
 person will attend your bell. 
 
 Jeremy. Why, he is a sailor! 
 
 Ben. Yes sir, one of the water-guard ! 
 
 Jeremy. One of the rum-and-water guard, by the 
 look of him—very well ; send this letter to Thistle- 
 bloom Hall. 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 27 
 
 Mich. Yes, sir — Ben, you are to wait, (crosses) 
 Come along — come along, man ! 
 
 Ben. I thought you said I was to wait, {trifis a- 
 cross) Tumble up, my hearty ! 
 
 lExeunt Michael and Ben. 
 
 Jeremy. Now for these cursed papers again; it 
 appears that Sir Bernard Blazoncourt is quite confi- 
 dent respecting the way in which the Chancery Suit 
 will be decided; plague, I've come into the country 
 for recreation, and have my hands full of business. 
 When shall I inhale fresh air, or get my face bronz- 
 ed in the sun, or even find time to eat my dinner ? 
 
 Re-enter Ben. 
 
 Ben. Ahoy ! 
 
 Jeremy. What do you say ? 
 
 Ben. A gemman has brought his horse to an an- 
 chor at the door, and sent up this here, {gives a 
 Q^rd. 
 
 Jeremy, (reads) "Mr. Frederick Blazoncourt*'— 
 request him to be good enough to walk in. 
 
 Ben, Oy, Oy, sir. {bell rings without) Hip, avast 
 — five bells — here's the devil to pay, and no pitch 
 hot! ITrifisoJ;. 
 
 Jeremy.. There'^s a pretty fellow for a waiter ! 
 Now have I an unpleasant task, — no matter, I shall 
 do my duty. 
 
 Enter Frederick. 
 
 Fred. I received a message through Mr. O'Dog- 
 grely, sir, that you had a private communication to 
 make to me : that there might not be any interrup- 
 tion, I have waited on you here, in preference to giv- 
 ing you the trouble of coming to Blazoncourt Castle. 
 
 Jeremy. I thank you, sir. Mine will be rather an 
 extraordinary conversation from a stranger, though 
 I believe my name is not unknown to you. 
 
 Fred. The name of Courtington appears too fre- 
 quently in the public journals as an able expositor of 
 
28 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake, 
 
 the laws of our country, to need any farther intro- 
 duction. 
 
 Jeremy. I am a very blunt, straight-forward per- 
 son ; I have n\ade an useless endeavour to see Sir 
 Bernard ; findipig that he is inaccessible, I venture 
 to expostulate with his son on the impolicy of con- 
 tinuing a certain Chancery Suit. 
 
 Fred' My good sir, I do not interfere with the af- 
 fairs of my father. 
 
 Jeremy. Mr. Blazoncourt, I am anxious to save an 
 exposure which will give you great cause for pain. 
 
 Fred, Sir, I never did an action of which I could 
 be ashamed! 
 
 Jeremy. But your father — 
 
 Fred. I will not have his honour questioned \ 
 
 Jeremy, A patient hearing now will save you a 
 world of wo in perspective ; it may be repulsive to 
 your feelings, but — 
 
 Fred, {impatiently.) Mr. Courtington J 
 
 Jeremy, I should have wished to have paved the 
 way a little, first — but— I come to the point. Sir 
 Bernard Blazoncourt is a villain. 
 
 Fred. That infamous epithet to my revered fa- 
 ther ? a personal chastisement^ — 
 
 Jeremy. Humph! 
 
 Fred. This must be answered. Though your pre- 
 sent conduct denies it, your rank in your profession 
 marks you as a gentleman, and not beneath my no- 
 tice. If your courage will permit you to remain here 
 a short hour, you will hear from me, sir. 
 
 [Exit hastily,. 
 
 Jeremy. Stay, sir — gone- Bravo, Mr, Jeremy! 
 another agreeable addition to the country air and ex- 
 ercise ; and now, before I can possibly introduce 
 myself to my family, from whom I have been es- 
 tranged so many years, I shall be popped off in a du- 
 el. The hot-headed young spark did not give me 
 time to attempt an apology; he'll wing me, and I 
 shall never be able to hold up my right arm in an 
 impressive manner to a London jury-box again. 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 29 
 
 Enter O'Doggrely. 
 
 O^Dog. Eh, Mr. Courtington, — you are looking 
 serious, sir; did the soles disagree with you? 
 
 Jeremy- No ; somebody else has disagreed with 
 me. 
 
 O'Dog. Och, by the powers ! I witnessed a pretty 
 petticoat disagreement at Squire Thistlebloom's. It 
 will require all the delicacy and ingenuity of my 
 pen. Four ould tabbies entered into a conspiracy to 
 accuse the fifth of cheating them at cards. Now, 
 from what I know of dear Mrs. Post, I conceive that 
 impossible. 
 
 Jeremy, (aside) My poor married sister ! 
 
 O'Dog. I'll give the ladies such a jingling, and the 
 charity boys shall sing it at church to them. 
 Where's my book ? I'faith, here's a large hole in 
 my pocket ; 1 hope I hav'nt lost the book. Bless m^. 
 soul, here's a slit ; it is the only sort of re?it I eve 
 get in my pocket, {puts his hand through the hole) 
 Ah ! the book is in my safe side, {takes it from the 
 other side) Let's see; there was mrs Gravebury, 
 mrs. Willowly, mrs. Snare, and miss Sallowfield — 
 difficult names for a rhyme, {looks at Jeremy) — 
 I'faith, he is not attending to me. 
 
 Jeremy, (abstracted J But I have no friend here. 
 
 O'Dog, No friend here ! no friend here ! and isn't 
 mr. O'Doggrely here? And did not you, mr. Court- 
 ington, eloquently lift a heavy libel case off these 
 shoulders ? No friend here, indeed? 
 
 Jeremy, {a/iart) 7\nd why should not I ask him ^ 
 If I am called out, there is not time to send to Lon- 
 don for a junior counsel to attend me. I dare say he 
 has been concerned in such affairs before now — mr. 
 O'Doggrely, were you ever second in a duel ? 
 
 O^ Dog. Ay, and tirst too, very often. Tell me, is 
 there any fun of that sort likely to take place? 
 
 Jeremy. Fun? yes; and the fun of it is that I, 
 who have not been in the village twelve hours, am 
 now expecting a mortal defiance. 
 3* 
 
30 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 
 
 O'Dog. I congratulate you — fortunate creature; 
 here have I been dwelling two long years, and have 
 not been lucky enough to get challenged yet. Who 
 is your opponent? 
 
 Jeremy. Why, these are peculiar matters. Sup- 
 pose, before I reveal his name, that I first receive his 
 message ? 
 
 O'Dog. Ay, perhaps the gentleman may think bet- 
 ter of it. 
 
 Jeremy. I hope he may 
 
 O'Do^. Fie, lie ! You would be disappointed ! 
 
 Jeremy. Not in the least ! Well, should this in- 
 dividual persist in his threat, will you be good enough 
 to become my friend on the occasion ? 
 
 O'Dog. To be sure I will, Mr. Courtington ; and 
 if your old pistols are rusty for wawt of use, I have a 
 pair that in their life-time have killed fifty Trinity 
 boys. 
 
 Jeremy. You are very good. I hope 1 shall not 
 have occasion to trouble you. 
 
 O'Bog. The trouble will be a pleasure, Sir. I 
 ■will not interrupt you now; but on the chance, I'll 
 just step home and give my little Dublin peace-ma- 
 kers a sight of daylight, and half an hour's polishing, 
 (a/iart) and in my way, call and return Mr. Blazon- 
 court his comedy, (^(akes MS. out.) Oh, and haven't 
 I hit on a rare title for it — a title that will astonish 
 and please my friend Frederick ^ (to Court.) Depend 
 upon me, Mr. Courtington, I will see you fall like a 
 man, and buried like a Christian. [JExit. 
 
 Jeremy. The very smell of an affair of honour has 
 invigorated that sanguinary Hibernian ! Heigho, 
 Jeremy ! how came you to be silly enough to put 
 yourself up as a mark to be shot at i* — Now must I, in 
 the event of falling, (for no one knows what may hap- 
 pen) write another letter to my brother Guy, who, 
 the moment he has found out that I am alive, will 
 discover that I am dead ! — No matter, I will first do 
 my duty to the poor girl Emily Travers. Why the 
 devil did I come for fresh air into the country ! {Exit, 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 31 
 
 SCENE IV. — Ari Avenue at Blazoncourt Castle. 
 
 Enter Frederick. 
 Fred. Strange conduct ! my father avoiding me. 
 His orders to his servants that I am not to intrude 
 on his privacy. He comes! I will present myself, 
 and discover how I have given him annoyance. 
 
 Enter Sir Bernard. 
 
 !Sir Ber. Who crosses my path ? — Frederick ! 
 
 Fred. My dear father ! 
 
 Sir Ber. {Aside.) Viper! but hold — dare you still 
 call me by that name ? 
 
 Fred. Still call you by that endearing name ? ay, 
 and I hope that I shall ever with fondest love and 
 profound respect be permitted to do so. 
 
 Sir Ber. You are embarrassed — is it not with the 
 guilty thought of having betrayed your parent i* 
 
 Fred. Betray yoUy sir ! What can be the meaning 
 of those dark words ? 
 
 Sir Ber. ( dside.) Though T distinctly heard — I can- 
 not yet believe. No : I must not own myself the 
 eaves-dropper ! Frederick, it grieves me to discover, 
 that in direct opposition to my wishes, you are in 
 correspondence with Emily Travers. 
 
 Fred. Sir ! 
 
 Sir Ber, Is it not utter destruction of my views for 
 your future aggrandizement, to own yourself ena- 
 moured of a low-born beggar? 
 
 Fred. Ah, Sir! did you but know Miss Travers — 
 her gentleness — 
 
 Sir Ber. Gentleness! a subdued humility, becom- 
 ing her situation in life. I command you sir, on your 
 boasted duty as a son, to relinquish all idea of this 
 degrading connexion! 
 
 Fred. Father, hear me. I love her, and I am hap- 
 py in the belief that I am beloved. 
 
 Sir Ber. Romantic fool ! obey me. What ! — yes, 
 it is then in human nature to raise the hand against 
 
32 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 
 
 the parent. Go, sir ! blacken the character of your 
 father! denounce him to his bitterest enemies as a 
 villain ! encourage the finger of scorn to point at the 
 author of your being ! 
 
 {Frederick attemfits to seize his hand, Sir Bernard 
 walks ufi.) 
 Fred. How fearful is his anger ! How shall I ap- 
 pease you, sir ? by what title shall I — 
 
 Fnter O'Doggrely running, with the Manuscrifit 
 in his hand. 
 
 O'Dog. Title, my boy, I've got it! I'll tell you 
 ( reads p.ompously ) — " The Im/ilacable Father ; or, 
 Tyrannic conduct never fails to jneet luith its just re- 
 tributiony present or jiosthumous.^^ {Sees Sir Ber- 
 nard.) Och, powers! I've let the cat out of the bag 
 to the high and mighty onld gentleman, {to Fred.) 
 You had better own all at once. 
 
 Fred, {to Sir Bernard) Sir, I beg to assure you 
 that the words you heard just now, bore no affinity 
 to the painful subject on which we were arguing a 
 moment previous. 
 
 Sir Ber. Frederick! I shall not feel inclined to 
 credit assertions, until I perceive that you choose for 
 your associates gentlemen of birth and education. 
 
 O'Dog. (ajiart.) That's a rap at my door; but 
 I'll answer it myself. Sir Bernard, if you are about 
 making the smallest allusions to me, permit me to 
 set you right, if you should happen to be wrong. 
 
 Fi-ed. Cease, Mr. O'Doggrely. 
 
 CfDog. Sir, I was a gentleman born and bred. I 
 was educated at " Trin. Col. Duh.^^ and sir, I inherit- 
 ed a good fortune, which I honourably spent, and 
 more than that, twice over, before I arrived at yeax's 
 of discretion. 
 
 Sir Ber. I have no doubt, sir, of your infinite me- 
 rit, but I wish that Mr. Frederick Blazoncourt would 
 in future be more prudent in the selection of his 
 companions. [ExiC 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 33 
 
 O^Dog: {aside.) *' My Lord Skinflint lives here." — 
 And this language to a poet and to the son of a poet ! 
 
 Fred. I am the most unfortunate fellow in exis- 
 tence. 
 
 O'Bog-. Iri your intimacy with me. Good bye, 
 Mr. Frederick, — your hand, — though it will cost me 
 more than I can afford to lose — your friendship, I am 
 not the man to keep a breach open betwixt lather 
 and son. 
 
 jFred. Stay, Stay— 
 
 O'Dog-. No; you shall not be pestered any longer, 
 I will go and enlist in the Irish Fusileers, and get my 
 potatoe of a head shot off. 
 
 Fred, I do not choose, on such slight grounds, to 
 abandon my friend. 
 
 O^Dog. Your friend abandons you ! 
 
 Fred. Never! {seizing his hand.) 
 
 O'Dog. Ah ! how you thrust every one of my par- 
 ries! 
 
 Fred. At this moment, I have the greatest need 
 of a friend, — a friend entirely unconnected \vith my 
 family. 
 
 O'hog. Such a friend am I — Sir Bernard is evi- 
 dence of that. 
 
 Fred. I have an affair of honour on my hands, a pe- 
 remptory duty to perform, {afiart.) Yes, my father, 
 though you will not appreciate my respect and affec- 
 tion, yet I will uphold your name, and risk my life 
 in clearing your reputation of stigma.- (To O'Dog.) 
 I have been grossly insulted this morning. 
 
 O'Dog. I am glad to hear it. 
 
 Fred. Eh !— why ? 
 
 O'Dog. It will give me the delightful opportunity 
 of carrying the challenge to your antagonist. 
 
 Fred. You will materially oblige me — I know I 
 may depend on you for the necessary arrangements : 
 — here is the letter already written; lose no time, 
 convey this to the gentleman as directed, and you 
 will find me waiting in the farm shrubbery. — Adieu. 
 lExitf after giving a letter to O'Doggrely. 
 
34 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 
 
 O^Dog. I have my hands fall to my heart's content 
 now. 1 must take care to fix the hours so, that one 
 little entertainment I am engaged in may not inter- 
 fere vvith the other. Let me see : Mr. Frederick 
 Blazoncourt is the drawer of the billet, who is to be 
 the acceptor? (Reads direction.) Och ! murder — 
 here's a quandary ! — (Reads.) " To Mr. Courting- 
 ton." — Is it Mr. Courtington he is challenging:' and 
 I have undertaken to be second to both parties ! — I'm 
 kilt — kilt entirely. My friend Frederick going to 
 fight my friend the honest barrister ! — What's to be 
 done, what's to be done •' — no time must be lost, for 
 at any rate, at this present writing they have only 
 got half a second between them. [F.xU, 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
 ACT III. 
 SCENE I.—J/iartmeni at Thistlebloom Hall. 
 
 Thistlebloom enters ^folloived by a Servant. 
 
 Thistle, No, no, I wont ride to-day — I'm as melan- 
 choly as a cat in damp weather. I want something 
 to stimulate me — Who did you say wished to speak 
 to me ? 
 
 Servant. Tapsly, Sir — landlord of the Crown and 
 Cushion. 
 
 Thistle. What the devil does he want ? — show him 
 in. \_Exit Servant. 
 
 I'm in that sort of nervous irritation, I should like 
 somebody to come and claw me all over with a gar- 
 den rake. 
 
 Servant ushei's in Tapsly. 
 
 Well, Mr. Tapsly.^ 
 
 Tajisly. Please your Worship, a London gentleman 
 at my house wrote this letter- — Michael my waiter is 
 engaged, so I stepped up with it myself. 
 
I Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 35 
 
 Thistle. Wait and see if there's an answer requir- 
 
 l ed. — A Londoner ! who do I know in London ? thank 
 
 D mercy, very few. — {o/ietis a7id reads.) " Dear Guy." 
 
 { — Who the devil dear Guys me ? — (reads.) " Thir- 
 
 i " ty years since your younger brother, as eccentric a 
 
 || ** being as yourself, quarrelled with you and left your 
 
 [j *' roof, (reads to himself in an anxious and hurried 
 
 \ " manner,) If you have not forgotten" — forgotten! 
 
 ' — •' and can forgive," — can forgive ? — " welcome will 
 
 •* again be the reconciliation to your still affectionate 
 
 *' brother, Jeremy !" — The carriage — quick — fly, 
 
 Tapsly, fly ! {Exit Tafisly, 
 
 {rings bell.) Poor Jeremy ! — wonderful — turned up 
 
 after thirty years ! {rings again.) 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Send for miss Emily immediately, tell her it is of the 
 most serious consequence — of the deepest interest. 
 
 \^Kxit Servant. 
 Jeremy! — {bursts into tears.) Jeremy— dead ! Jere- 
 my I — {suddenly becomes excited .) alive! — alive — my 
 brother — my playmate! — The cricket — the bowls — 
 all the recollections of my youth, the vivid picture 
 of happiness and enjoyment revives — What is there 
 to be melancholy about? I ought to rejoice, I'm sure 
 I ought — I — will rejoice, {imfies his eyes — begins 
 singing and dancing.) 
 
 Enter Emily, — She is surjirised — he dances u}i to her 
 and fiuts his hand round her waist. 
 
 Emily. What can have happened, sir } 
 
 Thistle. Excitement ! 
 
 Emily. Sir.^ 
 
 Thistle. Stimulus! 
 
 Emily, (ivith difficulty stofifiing his dancing.) 
 Pray explain. 
 
 Thistle, (gives letter.) Read that— read that. 
 Congratulate me, my love, I am so happy !— nothing 
 in the world now shall ever depress me again, {re- 
 commences dancing.) 
 
56 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. 
 
 Emily. This is extraordinary, sir, — You never ac- 
 quainted me with the reason of your brother's reso- 
 lution in withdrawing himself from his family? 
 
 Thistle. An odd affair, but three words will give 
 you a clue to it. Jeremy is my junior, he fell despe- 
 rately in love with a beautiful girU but kept his pas- 
 sion a secret. But when he ventured to avow it to 
 the lady, to his utter confusion, he discovered that I 
 ■ — I — his elder brother, had been, sub rosa^ the ac- 
 cepted suitor: — stung to the quick, he quitted us: 
 we have not seen nor heard of him from that time 
 till this — but, ah ! melancholy recollection, alas ! I 
 was less fortunate than he! 
 
 Emily. Indeed, sir ! 
 
 Thistle. Before I could make her my bride, death 
 blighted the fragile flower; 
 
 Emily. Distressing event! 
 
 Thistle. I loved her with all the vehemence of a 
 first affection, I never loved after — I lost a wife — I 
 lost a brother ; and gradually became the half- craz- 
 ed, eccentric being you have known me — with no 
 middle course of reason, but alternately the victim 
 of excitement or exhaustion. 
 
 Emily. Speak not thus, my dear Sir: your active 
 benevolence has ever cheered the hearts of the 
 wretched ; and the traces of early sorrow have only 
 tended to ensure you respect and affection. 
 
 Thistle. Affection ! yes — yes. {kisses Emily^s fore- 
 head.) Then you came, you little rogue, an unpro- 
 tected orphan, — your parents died — the affairs were 
 thrown into Chancery ! a wicked pretence set up 
 that your poor father and mother were not wedded — - 
 the misfortune of the chancel of the church being 
 burnt, in which was the book wherein the marriage 
 was registered — the death of all the witnesses. — 
 You became my charge, though unconnected by the 
 ties of relationship; but the same placid smile 
 which had so often enraptured me whilst gazing on 
 
Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 37 
 
 her I lost, played on your lips: your beauty, your ti- 
 mid reliance on my protection inspired me with a 
 father's affection for you. 
 
 EmUy. Too well I know this sad recital, and that 
 the endearing duties of filial love were denied me; 
 but my earliest recollections are of your tender care, 
 which can only be repaid with the gratitude of a poor 
 orphan ! ^ . 
 
 Thistle, f loifics his eyes.) Poor, girl ? you shall be 
 rich — rich — an heiress — ha! ha! ha! Look from the 
 window : those hills covered with oaks are yours — 
 you shall hold courts — grant leases — build alms- 
 houses — please the rich, and comfort the poor: all 
 this shall be done, if money and perseverance can 
 carry you through, (and Chancery is tight work to 
 fight against.) Ecod ! you shall be Lady of the Ma- 
 nor yet — ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! {in joyous excite- 
 ment.) 
 
 Enter Servant, 
 Now, why did you come to stop me — something dis- 
 agreeable to utter ? 
 
 Servant. Mr. Snare, sir ! 
 
 Thistle. Plague take him just at this time ! — show 
 him up. {Exit Servant.) — I'll send him off with a 
 flea in his ear. He has called, I suppose, to apolo- 
 gize for the unpardonable rudeness of his wife. 
 
 Enter Snare. 
 Snare. Servant Mr. Thistlebloom : I have come 
 to you on a very unpleasant affair. 
 i Thistle. Ah, bad enough — bad enough, sir ! 
 ' Snare. But I beg you to understand that I appear 
 only as an agent. 
 
 Thistle. It is coming out — Mrs. Snare very sorry, 
 lost her shillings and her temper, and so forth. 
 
 Snare. May I intreat that my communication might 
 be private? (bowing to Emiiyj who is retiring: J 
 
38 THE CHANCERY SUIT. yPeake 
 
 Thistle. No, sir. — Come here, Emily, you' shall 
 hear what Mr. Snare has to say, and you can convey 
 it to hiy sister, who is so vexed, horrified, and af- 
 fronted, that she has gone to bed. — Now, sir! — What 
 has Mrs. Snare to say for herself? 
 
 Snare. Really, I am not aware of your meaning, as 
 regards Mrs. Snare ; I have not seen my wife for the 
 last forty-eight hours. 
 
 Thistle. No? 
 
 Snare. We country practitioners ride about in this 
 place and t'other place, 8cc. &c. 6cc. — I have not yet 
 been home!' 
 
 Thistle. Then, what is this mysterious business? 
 
 Snare. Since you will have me speak out — my bu- 
 siness is concerning Miss Emily — an attachment. 
 
 Thistle. An attachment, Emily ? J 
 
 Emily, (aside. J Surely, Frederick has not di- | 
 vulged ! 
 
 Thistle. An attachment, sir — an attachment ? 
 
 Snare. An attachment from the Court of Chance- 
 ry, transmitted by the Sheriff of the county, — {firo- 
 duces a sliji of parchin'ent.) — that Miss Emily Tra- 
 vers (defendant in the W^oodburn case,) be commit- 
 ted to the Fleet Prison forthwith, for contempt of 
 court. 
 
 Thistle. What! 
 
 Emily. The Fleet Prison, sir ? 
 
 Snare. By neglect, an answer has not been filed 
 by your Solicitor. — Miss Emily must be prepared to 
 accompany the officer to London, who has to deliver 
 her to the custody of the Warden. 
 
 Emily, (trembling and clinging to Thistlebloom.J 
 Oh, sir I what will become of me ? 
 
 Thistle. Hark'ye, Mr. Snare I Do you know the de- 
 mon in human shape, the contriver of this conspira- 
 cy ? What ! have vou the heart to drag this innocent 
 girl from her comfortable home to the abode of 
 wretchedness, on the plea of some technical error ? 
 
Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 39 
 
 — You may be a good country practitioner, Mr. 
 Snare, but I think you have yet to learn a very ne- 
 cessary part of your profession. 
 
 Snare. What may that be, sir ? 
 
 Thistle. The common law of humanity. 
 
 Snare, (tartly.) Remember, Mr. Thistleblooom, 
 that I am but an agent. 
 
 Thistle. To the devil! and I hope he will pay you 
 your commission. 
 
 Snare. Thank you, sir For the regularity of the 
 
 busmess of the Court, its forms must necessarily be 
 attended. 
 
 Thistle. Then understand me, Mr. Snare. — Emily 
 shall not go ! — I'm a county magistrate — you may 
 get me hanged if you like — perhaps it may do me 
 some good. You are very fond of game, sir. 
 
 Snare. Uncommonly partial to it, sir. 
 
 Thistle. Mark me : — if your catch-pole, or pole- 
 cat of a sheriff's officer shows his face here, — I'll 
 shoot him ; and you may dangle him up by the heels 
 in your larder and keep him till he is tender — a ten- 
 der sheriflf's officer would be a rarity. 
 
 Snare. The fact, is sir, every man has his weak 
 point, atid I own, strict attention to business is a 
 weak point of mine. 
 
 Thistle. You are made up of nothing but weak 
 points. 
 
 Snare. Sir, this conduct — this will be a pretty an- 
 ecdote to relate at the Solicitors' Club — ha! ha! 
 
 Thistle. Solicitors' Club. Oh, you have an Attor- 
 nies ClUb then, have ye? — it won't last long> — birds 
 of prey are seldom gregarious. 
 
 Snare. You are becoming personal ; good day, sir, 
 — of course you must expect to hear more of this. 
 
 [Bows, and exit. 
 
 Emily. No, no, my best and kindest friend, my 
 troubles must no longer claim your generous inter- 
 ference. 
 
 Thistle. Pooh, pooh, — we'll have no law here I 
 {calls off.) John, — Ifhomas, — Jenkins, — Gamekeep- 
 
40 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake^^ 
 
 er, — ^load all the guns — get out the jack-hooks, — unJ 
 couple the dogs, — let loose the vicious kicking pony-j 
 — stir up the wasps' nest, and you, my dear, go up- 
 stairs, and creep into bed to my sister directly, and I 
 will lock you in. Barricade the window. Oh, fire 
 and fury! if we are assaulted by the whole fleet, 
 they shan't take you. Come along, my girl; these 
 events have driven poor Jeremy clean out of my 
 head. (' calls off.) John, Thomas, Gamekeeper! 
 
 {^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II — A Room in the Inn. 
 
 Jeremy discovered at a table. 
 Jeremy. So, this is a pretty hour of suspense ; 
 ■waiting for a verdict is nothing to it; this does not 
 depend on a point of law, but on the hasty decision 
 of one hot head, instead of the calm deliberation of 
 twelve. If that mad-cap sprig of the Blazoncourts 
 had but heard me out — but he was like a rocket, the 
 moment he was fired, off he went. I wish the young 
 spark would as' easily vanish in the air. Ah! her6 
 is my doughty O'Doggrely. (at table.) 
 
 Enter O'Doggrely. 
 
 0*Dog. {apart.') What plan am I to pursue? 
 Firstly, I fear to displease Mr. Frederick ; secondly, 
 I can't forsake my legal hero, Courtington ; thirdly, 
 I should be sorry to have the sport spoiled. There 
 he sits — looks, I think, as if he would not like to lose 
 his life in a duel — would rather go off in a decline I 
 
 Jeremy. Well, Mr. O'Doggrely, any news? 
 
 O'Dog. 'f'es, there is ; great news — (gives Frede- 
 rick's note) : look at the paper. Now I stand com- 
 mitted on both sides ! 
 
 Jeremy, (after reading.) Humph I this is posi- 
 tive and disagreeable enough. Has Mr. Blazoncourt 
 made arrangement with any gentleman to officiate as 
 his second ? . 
 
Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 41 
 
 O'Dog. Yes, yes ; there is a gentleman. 
 
 Jeremy, Do you know the person ? i 
 
 O'Dog. As well as I know myself. 
 
 Jeremy^ Humph ! a countryman of yours, perhaps? 
 
 O'Dog. Yes, born in the city of Dublin, if you can 
 call that the country. 
 
 Jeremy. {Jside.) Another Irishman! Then there's 
 no chance of an accommodation — a couple of Kilken- 
 'ny cats! And at what hour is it proposed that the 
 meeting should take place ? 
 
 O'Dog. At your convenience. 
 
 Jeremy. It is plaguily inconvenient to me altoge- 
 ther. What is the name of Mr. Blazoncourt's second? 
 
 O'Dog. {aside.) What shall I say ? — O, his name 
 — his name is Murphy. 
 
 Jeren:y. Mr. Murphy? — Friend O'Doggrely, if 
 there was yet a probability (without infringing on 
 the accepted laws of honour,) that I might have an 
 opportunity of an interview with Mr. Frederick Bla- 
 zoncourt, it would be of essential importance. 
 
 O'Dog". I am of opinion that every thing must go 
 through the seconds. 
 
 Jeremy. Every thing go through the seconds ? 
 
 O'Dog' Every thing, except the bullets. 
 
 Jeiemy. Suppose, then, you join the other Irish 
 gentleman — 
 
 O.Dog. (aside.) Join the other Irish gentleman ! 
 
 Jeremy. Go to Mr. Murphy, and state that, prior 
 to the meeting, Mr. Blazoncourt must be made ac- 
 quainted with an important fact. Where is Mr. Mur- 
 fi\y ? 
 
 O'Dog, Oh, close by ; we are in constant commu- 
 nication. 
 
 Jeremy. You may say, that it is an act of justice 
 "which renders it necessary that an explanation should 
 take place before I present myself to the fire of an 
 adversary's pistol — that Miss Emily Travers is deep- 
 ly concerned. 
 
 4* 
 
42 THE CHANCERY SUIT. iPeake. 
 
 0*Dog. Miss Emilv Travers ! My gallantry for- 
 bids refsual ; I'll talk to Mr Blazoncourt. 
 
 ' Jeremy. You ? I thought every thing must go 
 through the seconds. 
 
 G*Dog. Wait awhile, Sir, and 1*11 commune with 
 Mr. Murphy ; we'll lay our Irish heads together, and 
 see the possibilities of the matter, {aside.) By the 
 powers, I am a man beside myself — O'Doggrely, the 
 second ! l£a:it. 
 
 Jeremy. There is now a duty to perform ; I must 
 write another brief note to my brother, in the event 
 of my iaW.fgoes to the table ^ nvrites^ and reads aloud 
 as he writes.) '* By a strange combination of circum- 
 ** stances, since you received my former letter, I 
 ** have had the misfortune to be called out in a duel. 
 *• I should have been happy to have squeezed my 
 " brother by the hand ; but fate has ordained it 
 " otherwise ; as I shall be, when you receive this, 
 " no longer in the land of the living. In my travell- 
 ** ing desk, you will discover documents of great im- 
 *' port to your ward Emily Travers. Farewell, fare- 
 •' well !" f/o/f/* it. J There — that is the second let- 
 ter I have written to my family these thirty years — 
 hope there will not be any occasion for its delivery. 
 {seals and directs it.) '*To Guy Thistlebloom, Esq., 
 to be delivered immediately." 
 
 Re-enter O'Doggrely. 
 
 O^Dog. I have arranged a meeting to your satisfac- 
 tion. Sir — and Mr. Blazoncourt is waiting in the 
 Shrubbery just across the road to^hear your commu- 
 nication — (a nice cool secluded place for a shot, 
 where you may kill a pheasant as well as a foe). If 
 either of you should lose your lives, it will be in a 
 preserve. 
 
 oeremy. Stay, sir. — It will be as well now to give 
 you this letter, with a request that it may be deliver- 
 ed to Mr. Guy Thistlebloom, if it should so happen 
 that an accident occurs to me. Be sure he has it — its 
 
Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 43 
 
 contents are of vital importance, f gives it to O^Dog- 
 Zrely.) Come, Sir. 
 
 O'Dog. I'll take the greatest care of it. (^Ar fiuta 
 the letter into his fiocket-hole ; unseen^ it drops on the 
 Stage. ) There, now we are all secure ; you go first, 
 sir — you are the pvincipal,/ am only the second. 
 
 [^Exeunt* 
 
 Tafsly, alarmedyfiee/18 through a doory—comes fov 
 ward, 
 
 Tafisly. Bless my soul, bless my soul ! what have 
 I overheard? — here is the strange gentleman going 
 out to fight a duel with young Squire Blazoncourt ! — 
 What shall I do ? — hope Mrs. Tapsly won't hear of 
 it — she'd go into fits— Here, Ben — Ben ! 
 
 Enter Ben. 
 
 Ben. Ahoy ! what cheer ? 
 
 Tafisly. Cheer,indeed! You follow those two per- 
 sons {/loints off.) — they have pistols. [ fear some 
 harm will be done — don't let them see you. 
 
 Ben. What am I to do with them ? 
 
 Tafisly y They are going to fight ! 
 
 Ben. Why not let 'em fight it out ? 
 
 Tafisly. Not for the world! you must prevent 
 them, — run, run, my good Benjamin, after them; stop 
 the fighting and I will give you a china bowl full of 
 grog,— don't let my wife know it, and in the mean 
 time I'll scamper for the constables and beadle. [Exit. 
 
 Ben. Got pistols, have they ? Well, there's grog 
 in sight, so I'll make sale arter them— but avast ! as 
 I'm to stop 'em, it will be as well to take my Pre- 
 ventive Service barking iron with me. (fiulla a large 
 pistol out of his bosom. ) Now heave a head, my jolly 
 boy! lExit 
 
 {Bell rings.) 
 
 Snare. ( Without.) House—Mr. Tapsly !— nobody 
 here. 
 
44 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 
 
 Mrs. Ta/isly. (M/Uhout.) Mr. Tapsly— Ben — have 
 you no ears ? (Bells ring- ) 
 
 Enter S-ha^e^ followed by Mrs Tapsly. 
 
 Mrs. Tafis I don't know where my husband is, or 
 •where the waiters; we are all at sixes and sevens, 
 and mourning in the house. 
 
 Snare. Oh — poor old Dame Rucket, I suppose — a 
 great relief! 
 
 3Irs. Taps. Your commands, Mr. Snare ? 
 
 Snare. Post-horses directly, and tell the boys they 
 must drive like the devil. 
 
 JMrs. Tafis, Bless you, sir, they know who they are 
 driving, {crosses.) First and second pair up. {^Exil, 
 
 Snare. What am I to do about Miss. Emily Tra- 
 vers ? Mad old Thistlebloom would be as good as his 
 •word, and would think nothing of shooting my, — 
 ahem ! — bailiff. Old Guy contrived to awe me, and 
 it is my interest to keep on terms with him. I dare 
 not see Sir Bernard till the young lady is on her way 
 to the Fleet (though we have no earthly right to send 
 her there). I'll post over to the County Bank, and 
 try and raise the three thousand pounds. That will 
 be a sop for that high flying Blazoncourt dragon! 
 — What have we here on the floor > (fiicks ufi the 
 Letter.) "To Guy Thistlebloom, Esq. — to be de- 
 livered immediately." Sometimes a secret is of im- 
 portance in my profession — ffiee/is into it) — how 
 strange ! a more cunning fellow than I folded this let- 
 ter up. I cannot see a single word of it. — [turns it 
 over in various posit ioiis.) Nothing to be got «ut of 
 this {/leefis.J 
 
 Reetiter Mrs. Tapsly. 
 Snare, Ahem— tol de rol de rol lal lal. ("affects 
 ease. J 
 
 Mrs. laps. The chaise is ready, sir. 
 
Act. III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 45 
 
 Snare. Here's a letter 1 picked up on your floor, di- 
 rected to Mr. Guy Thistlebloom. — it is superscribed 
 *' to be delivered immediately," — send it up, never 
 neglect business. D'ye get any rabbits more than 
 you know what to do with ? Mrs. Snare doats on a 
 wild rabit smothered with onions! Open the chaise 
 door there, and send the letter to Thistlebloom Hall. 
 
 {Exeunt 
 
 SCENE III. ji Shrubbery. — Frederick walking 
 about, 
 
 Fred. I begin to suspect the courage of this Court- 
 ington. I would not have listened to his proposal, 
 but that the name of Emily Travers produced a tal- 
 ismanic effect on me. They come, — O'Doggrely 
 alone with him — how! is ^e unattended by a friend? 
 
 Enter O'Doggrely with pistols^ and Jeremy. 
 
 0''Dog, Stay you there a moment, if you please. 
 C Jeremy remains at the side. J Mr. Blazoncourt, I 
 presume to address you- (^Ae crosses to Frederick J 
 I've brought Mr- Courtington. 
 
 Fred. Where is Mr. Courtington's second ? 
 
 0*Dog. He'll be here directly — one Mr. Murphy 
 — leave me alone to settle matters with him. (crosset 
 to Jeremy. J Now, are you ready to palaver ? 
 
 Jeremy, Where is the other Irish gentleman, Mr. 
 Blazoncourt's friend. 
 
 O' Dog \C looks off".) I see him — make yourself aisy 
 
 Jeremy. I thought you said that a surgeon was to 
 be in attendance ? 
 
 0*Dog. One of Mrs. Murgatroyd's cows kicked 
 another cow last night, — the docter was obliged to 
 go there. 
 
 Jeremy. But where is Mr. Murphy ? 
 
 O^Dog. He's gone to look for the surgeon — whisht, 
 man! 
 
46 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 
 
 Fred, (imfiatiently) Mr. O'Doggrely, I must wave 
 the custom on these occasions, and speak — What is 
 the cause of this unnecessary delay ? 
 
 O'Dog-. The delay is — that — where the devil is 
 Mr. Murphy, the other second ? — fie upon you, Mur- 
 phy ? 
 
 Fred. Singular absence ! — this is badly arranged. 
 
 Jeremy. Very badly indeed! 
 
 O'Dog. Gentlemen ! it is quite impossible for me 
 to say where Mr. Murphy can be at present, — he 
 ought to be ashamed of himself — but, if you will 
 allow me to take the privilege of a friend and wait 
 upon both of ye — and supposing now, while I am 
 measuring the ground, that you, Mr. Frederick, lis- 
 ten to what Mr. Courtington has to say — {Afiart to 
 Frederick.) I permit you to commune with him on 
 the subject ; and, as Murphy is absent, I'll just speak 
 to Mr. Courtington. (crosses to Jeremy?) I allow you 
 nothing derogatory to your honour, to talk to Mr. 
 Blazoncourt. {jy Doggrely retires.) 
 
 Jeremy' {advances.) Sir, my blunt, perhaps coarse 
 mode of expressing myself, fully warranted, I own, 
 your sudden indignation; but if I had not powerful 
 proof to back that which I then avowed, I should 
 have richly deserved the chastisement you threa- 
 tened. 
 
 Fred. Proceed, Sir. The name of Miss Travers 
 was mentioned. 
 
 Jeremy. Tow months since, an acquaintance of 
 mine in London, by name Mandeville, was stretched 
 on his death-bed by a lingering and painful disorder ; 
 he sent for, and appointed me his executor. Some- 
 thing was weighing heavily on his mind; after a 
 struggle, he obtained a mastery over shame, in the 
 acknowledgement of guilt, by revealing to me, that, 
 sixteen years previous, he had, for certain consider- 
 ations, forged a document, purporting to be an avowal 
 Of the father of Emily Travers, that his daughter 
 -was born illegitimate.^ 
 
Act. III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 47 
 
 Fred. Ah ! speak on. Sir. 
 
 Jeremy. He added with his dying breath, that he 
 had obtained possession by stealth of the Parish Re- 
 gister recording the celebration of the marriage of 
 the parents of Miss Travers, during an accidental 
 fire which occurred in the chancel of the church. 
 That record is destroyed; the poor girl is hopeless 
 there : — one living witness alone remains, an aged 
 servant named Winterfield. 
 
 Fred. Ah! Winterfield? 
 
 Jeremy. The forged document is still in existence, 
 which villainous instrument has kept Emily Travers 
 from the inheritance of her ancestors to this period? 
 
 Fred. {Aside.) Poor Emily : — she may still regain 
 her rights. Where is this paper .^ 
 
 Jeremy. In your father's hands! 
 
 Fred. How ! confusion ! 
 
 Jeremy. Sir Bernard Blazoncourt, you are aware, 
 is the claimant of the Woodburn Estate. It is the 
 certain knowledge of the facts I have related, and 
 my dependance on the excellant character you bear 
 which induce me to confide this secret to you : hav- 
 ing done my duty thus far, I am now ready to take 
 my station, and to receive your fire. 
 
 Fred. Slay, Sir ! 
 
 Jeremy. O'Doggrely— the pistols. {O'^Doggrely 
 comes forward.) 
 
 Fred. One moment I request, Sir. 
 
 O'Dog. ('Aside. J Mr. Frederick does not like it 
 now — if you please. Gentlemen — Murphy, the other 
 second, is not arrived yet. 
 
 Fred. Be so obliging as to retire. 
 O'Dog. 'Faith, he won't let the seconds interfere 
 at any rate. [Exit, 
 
 Fred. Mr. Courtington, until this affair is recti- 
 fied, our resentments or atonements must rest. The 
 earnestness of your manner surprises me ; your im- 
 plication of my father 1 proudly hope to annul ; but 
 you are the friend of Miss Travers— a strict inyesti- 
 
48 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake^ 
 
 gation shall prove whether her claims are ju»t : 
 should they be so — [thoughtfully.) But time will 
 bring to light. This way, Mr. Courtington I in- 
 treat — we must not be overheard. [^JExeunt 
 
 Rc'Cnter O'Doggrely with fiistols. 
 
 O'Dog: They are a long time discussing ; I'll 
 venture to enquire when they intend to begin busi- 
 ness ? Eh, Bather shin — not here? f looks about, J 
 And there yonder they're walking arm in arm, as 
 quietly as a sheep and her baa-lamb! Well, of 
 course they will come back in a minute, so I'll pre- 
 pare and measure the ground— eight paces will be 
 about the mark ; so — {steps) there, there are eight 
 paces, and a little bit for manners — I've loaded the 
 pretty creatures here. Let's see: here v/ill stand 
 
 Mr. B— , and he re I will place Mr. C •, 
 
 and Mr. O'D. will take his position here — eh, just so. 
 /luts himself into an attitude.) I gracefully give the 
 signal to fire. 
 
 Ben /lofis out from a bush. 
 
 Ben. Belay, belay ! 
 
 O'Dog. What ! Och, murther ! we are discover- 
 ed; who are you? 
 
 JBen. One of the preventive ! 
 
 0*Dog. Go about your business, you tarpaulin- 
 looking fellow ! 
 
 Ben. I'll see you at Wapping first. 
 
 O'JDog. I'll frighten him. {points pistol.) My tight 
 boy do you see this pistol ? 
 
 Ben. Yes, my tight boy. And do you see this ? 
 {pulls out a large pistol, and points.) 
 
 O'Dog, Och ! we shall have £i jewel after all ! 
 
 £nter a Beadle and two country Constables. 
 Beadle. In the King's name, down with them .' 
 ( The Constables come behind , and seize O^Doggrely, 
 Ben takes a pistol from him) 
 Bring him along — bring him along! 
 
Act. III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 49 
 
 0*Dog> You clodhopping bogtrotters ! 
 
 Constable. Why this be the chap that keeps the 
 whole village in order! 
 
 Beadle. The Irish poet — we'll put him in the cage 
 — oft with him ! 
 
 Omnes. Off with him ! {Bustle — all take hold of 
 him.) 
 
 O'Dog. Satisfaction, you brutes! Vm a gentle- 
 man — botheration, turf, fire and fury ! — I'll pay ye, 
 for this. 
 
 (They carry him off ; in the struggle^ he Jives 
 one of hiH fiistols in the air.) 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Mr. Snare's Office.— Enter Snare. 
 
 Snare. What is next on my list? — "Spriggins 
 versus Whortleberry" — ** Dr. Ghast's Settlement." 
 'Gad, I have not a moment for myself. What with 
 one thing and another— /zo*? obits and ^o*r-chaises, 
 I have not set eyes on my blessed wife and family 
 these two days ! In country practice, instead of sit- 
 ting in an office, half your work must be done on 
 horseback. 
 
 Enter Clerk. 
 
 Clerk. Mrs. Post wishes to speak to you, Sir. 
 
 Snare. Another Post ! Show her in. 
 
 [Exit Clerk 
 Now, what can the old lady want with me } some- 
 thing about Miss Emily Travers, I suppose. Well, 
 I must be civil, to keep in with the family. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Post. 
 Well, my dear Mrs. Post, this is a favour ; you, of 
 all persons in the world— pray be seated. 
 
50 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 
 
 Mrs. Post. Mr. Snare, I think you have been ab- 
 sent from home, one or two days ? I trouble you on 
 a little private business (unconnected with my fam- 
 ily) in which I am anxious for the advice of a discreet 
 professional man. 
 
 {Snare brivgs forward a chair for Mrs. Pasty 
 a?id seats htmself en a high office-stool) 
 Be good enough, Sir, to listen to my detail, and 
 give me your candid opinion whether I have not 
 very sufficient grounds for an action? 
 
 Snare {rubbing his hands) 1 am all attention, 
 Madam. 
 
 Mrs Post. You know the usual resource of us 
 elderly ladies of an evening — the last new novel 
 skimmed, scandal failing, and tea over — cards— cards 
 are the constant relaxation from the harassing 
 idleness of the day. 
 
 Snare. I am aware that you play an admirable 
 rubber. 
 
 Mrs. Post. Strange to say, I am always successful, 
 which created the envy of the Coterie with whom I 
 spent the evening. In the present state of the affair, 
 1 shall not particularize where the insulting event 
 took place, for which 1 am now by your good assis. 
 tance to obtain legril redress. 
 
 Snare. One moment. Madam — allow me to make 
 my notes, {takes out Jiocket-book and fiencit.) 
 
 Mrs. Post. What will you say. Sir, to a combina- 
 tion of ladies determined not to admit me again to a 
 card-table — and the principal agent of this combina- 
 tion has had the grossness and audacity to say that 
 I play unfairly ; nay has positively stigmatized me 
 as a common 
 
 Snare. What i» 
 
 Mrs. Pest. Cheat a cheat ! 
 
 Snare. Is it possible there exists so defamatory a 
 character ? 
 
 JMrs. Post. She does exist, and is glorying in her 
 malice at this moment. 
 
 i 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 51 
 
 Snare- To use a vulgar sort of cribbage fihrase^ 
 *' We must take this lady down a peg or two;" it is 
 a shameful business, madam. Give me full powers 
 to carry it into Court ; it is a duty, madam, you 
 owe not only to yourself in particular, but to the 
 card-playing public in general. 
 
 Mra. Post. Pray, what would be the probable re- 
 sult of an action } 
 
 Snare. Damages — decidedly heavy damages for 
 defamatory language. 
 
 (Mrs. Snare fieefis in at office-door.) 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Oh, my dear, you are returnefl at last 
 — engaged. — I beg pardon for breaking in on a pri- 
 vate conversation. 
 
 Snare. I will come up directly. Stay — come here, 
 my Eleanoi'. 
 
 Mrs. Snare, {coming forward^ sees Mrs. Post.) 
 {aside.) Mrs. Post here.-* — what does she want, I 
 •wonder ? 
 
 ' Snare, {to Mrs. Post ) Well thought of, madam. 
 As in all probability we shall find it expedient to call 
 in evidence as to your mode of playing, the testimo- 
 ny of my Cara s/iosa, 1 am sure, will be much at your 
 ser^'ice. 
 
 IMrs. Snare bites her li/iSy and shakes her 
 head des/iondingly.] 
 
 Snare. Ah, she hates the very idea of being call- 
 ed into court ; as for me, it is my element. Now, 
 my good Mrs, Post, I have received your instruc 
 tions to draw up a case on which to found an action 
 for defamation. {Mrs- Snare embarrassed.) — What's 
 the matter, my Eleanor? — And whoever the lady 
 may be, [ pity her. {aside.) What is she winking at ? 
 — a backbiting, slandering, disappointed she-game- 
 ster ! who, because she has lost a few shillings, darts 
 her envenomed tongue on an innocent and virtuous 
 victim. Pray, madam, what is the name of the de- 
 fendant? — {^refiares to write.) 
 
S2 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. \ 
 
 Mrs. Post. Eleanor Snare ! • 
 
 Snare, {drofifiing book ) What I 
 
 A/r*. Po*/. Eleanor Snare, (/loindng.') That good 
 lady, sir ! 
 
 Snare. What, nia*am, my — my — my— my wife? 
 
 Mi's. Post. Most assuredly ! You are my attor- 
 ney, sir. I trust you will do your duty, — a duty you 
 owe not only to me in particular, but to the card- 
 playing public in general. 
 
 Snare. Madam, I — 
 
 Mrs. Post. I cannot (by your advice) consent to 
 hear of any accommodation; so, " to use a vulgar sort 
 of cribbage phrase — take her down a peg or two." 
 I wish you good day. I do not envy you you your 
 feelings, Mrs. Snare, but I hope that this lesson may 
 amend you for the future. ICurlsies, and exit. 
 
 Snare, (walking up. and down. J Here is a pret- 
 ty scrape you have got yourself and your husband 
 into, Mrs. Snare ! 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Indeed! How comes it, Mr. Snare, 
 that you have drawn your poor wife into this predic- 
 ament ^ 
 
 Snare. You have defamed — grossly defamed that 
 respectable lady. 
 
 Mrs. Snare. And you, my love, have been aiding 
 her to punish me for it — a pretty husband, truly ! 
 
 Snare. This affair will spread all over the county. 
 
 Mrs. Snare. I hope it may. 
 
 Snare, I shall never hear the end of it. That 
 Irish satirist, O'Doggrely, will gee hold of it, and, 
 worse than that, not another head of game shall we 
 receive from Thistlebloom Hall. There is a way 
 to stop the affair. — You must go, my dear, and hum- 
 bly beg Mrs, Post's pardon. 
 
 Mrs. Snare. Mr. Snare, you know I am a deter- 
 mined person. — May my hair turn red, and resist 
 the curling irons for ever, if I do ! 
 
 Snare. Tell me — did Mrs. Post play unfairly? 
 Prove that to me, my love, and I will turn the tables 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 53 
 
 the other way, and threaten her with an action — did 
 she cheat? Say the word; bzing me proof, and it 
 shall go into court against her. 
 
 Mrs. Snare. La, Mr. Snare ! how impetuous you 
 are! 
 
 Snare, Answer me, madam : were you choused ? 
 
 Mrs. Snare, No, no, no. She won all our money, 
 and we accused her, out of spite. 
 
 Snare. We — ive ? Oh, then there is somebody 
 else I can implicate? 
 
 Mrs. Snare. No. my love, / suggested it ; and ive 
 carried into execution like women of spirit. \_Ex:U, 
 
 Snare, Curse your spirit! There is no extrica- 
 tion from this. Now we shall have open warfare 
 No more temporizing — no more partridges and phea- 
 sants ! I must side heart and hand with Sir Ber- 
 nard ; yes — (takes out fiarchment writ. J — the officer 
 of the sheriff shall do his duty, and at any risk take 
 Miss Emily Travers into custody. But as it is an il- 
 legal affair, it must be done cautiously. What a 
 fortunate thing it is that 1 am not troubled with fine 
 feeling. For what with my wife, and wiiat with my 
 practice, if I had any sensibility, I should have been 
 by this time in a receptacle for lunatics. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE U.— Room in the Lin. 
 Enter Tap sly. 
 Taps. How the deuce has this duel turned out? 
 Not a soul is come back yet, and I haven't been able 
 to leave the house for a moment. 
 
 i^n.'er Jeremy. 
 Ah, sir — very, very happy to see you at the 
 Crown and Cushion again! 
 
 Jeremy. Thank yow.— {aside.) I perfectly coin- 
 cide with his happiness — Have you seen Mr. O'Dog- 
 grely ? 
 
 5* 
 
 V 
 
54 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. 
 
 Ta/is. No, sir; what has become of him? No " 
 harm happened to him? 
 
 Jeremy, {aside.) Strange where he so suddenly 
 vanished ? I thought I heard voices as if in alterca- 
 tion, when we left him unceremoniously; but young 
 Blazoncourt was so interested, that we walked near- 
 ly across the Park without bestowing a thought on 
 my excellent second. Very ungrateful of me. 
 
 Enter Ben. 
 
 Ben. Master Tapsly. 
 
 Jeremy. Oh — the rum-and- water guard — what 
 does he want? {nvalks u/i.) 
 
 Ben. I want that there chaney bowl of grog! 
 
 Tafis. {nfiart) Did you prevent the fighting? 
 
 Ben. To be sure I did. 
 
 Taps. No body killed? 
 
 Ben. Devil a duck ! 
 
 Tap.i. {/lofnnng- to Jeremy.) And was that the 
 gentleman ? 
 
 Ben. No; we've carried the gentleman to the 
 cage, and nicely he is singing out. A pretty job we 
 had to get him there! 
 
 Tafjs. What ! is it young Squire Blazoncourt 
 you've cooj)ed up in the cage? 
 
 Ben. How can ! tell? Cousin Mike, you, and 
 Gubbins the beadle, are the only gentlemen I know 
 in the place. {lixit. 
 
 Jeremy. It is extraordinary I have not had any vi- 
 sit yet from my brother Guy. What was the an- 
 swer to my letter? 
 
 Tafis. Mr. Thistlebloom was violently agitated— r^ _^ 
 told me to fly, and that he would bring the carriage 
 for you — but I'll ask — Mrs. Tapsly, my dear! {calls.) 
 
 Enter Mrs. Tapsly. 
 My dear! has Mr. Guy Thistlebloom been here 
 since the letter went over to him ? 
 
 Mrs. Talis. No, my love; I sent it over by a very 
 careful messenger. 
 
 Tafia. Yes, my sweet, I took it myself. 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 55 
 
 Mrs. Taps. You? No, my darling! I tell you, I 
 sent it. 
 
 Tafis. But I'll be cursed, my dovey, if I did not 
 carry it myself! 
 
 Jcremtj. Very well, very well, good people; it is 
 not worth while having any words about it, so as the 
 letter i.s delivered. Now let me have something to 
 eat. Get me the sole now — a sole — I am fond of a 
 sole— 1 feel quite faint and ill ; but I shall be better 
 after dinner. [^Exit into roavn. 
 
 Mrs. Tafis. Now, Tapsly, what was the use of ly- 
 ing to your lawful wedded wife ? 
 
 Tajis. I lie, Mrs. Tapsly! If you were a man, I'd 
 pull your nose. 
 
 Mrs. lajis. You said you carried a letter to Mr. 
 Guy rhistlebloom, when I sent it myself by the 
 shepherd. 
 
 Tafis. Then there were two letters to go, — that is 
 just a woman's short sightedness : I took one, — you 
 sent another, I suppose.' 
 
 Mrs. Tups. Oh! why you did not say so at first .^ 
 W^ell, my own dear ducky, we'll go and see about 
 the fiied soles ; never mind ihe letters — {kisses him.) 
 — come ! 
 
 Taps. You persuasive little witch ! lExeunt. 
 
 £n(er GvY Thistlebloom, 7yz7A a le tier in /lis hand. 
 Thistle. The exterior of the house exhibits melan- 
 choly symbols of mourning — the window-shutters up 
 — fatal duel; {Beii tolls without.) Ah! curse your 
 mournful iron toi^gue. — {looks at letter.) ** I should 
 have been happy to have squeezed my brother by the 
 hand — " So should I— so should I. — (reads) — 
 '* IVhen you receive this., I shall be no longer in the 
 land of the living — " Oh ! Jeremy, Jeremy, always 
 headstrong, always rash! Why have you reduced 
 me to the necessity (after thirty years* silence) to go 
 through the last duty one man can perform to ano- 
 ther ^ — how awfully silent the house is ! {bell tolls.) 
 Ah ! 
 
56 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 
 
 Enter Ben, with a doivl. 
 Bless ray soul ! — who is that ? 
 
 Ben. Ahoy, sir! (drinks. J 
 Thistle. You are not the waiter ! 
 
 Ben. No! Mike has got a holiday, so IVe taken 
 his watch. 
 
 Thistle. What does he want with his nvatch^ I won- 
 der? gone out, and afraid of being robbed, I suppose? 
 — Though a stranger here, you are awax'e of the me- 
 lancholy affair that has happened? 
 
 Ben. {aside.) He means my old aunt, (to Thistle- 
 bloom.) Ay, ay. Master, when our time comes, grim 
 Death boards us — every bullet has its billet. — 
 (drinks) 
 
 Thistle. Ah ! — where is . . . Whereabouts is the . . . 
 — (nvi/ies his eyes.) 
 
 Ben. My wig, how he is affected ! — take a drop. — 
 (^offers bowl.) — For the matter of that — if you go up 
 aloft into the garret, you'll see the poor old creter — 
 if so be you've a fancy that way. 
 
 Thistle. Old creature I dear me — not so old ! some 
 years younger than I am, I apprehend ? 
 
 Ben. No, no — I han't heard what the age was rat- 
 ed on the books ; but I believe its summut like fore- 
 score and twelve ! 
 
 Thistle, Impossible! — Well, show me up to the 
 garret. 
 
 Ben. Show you up to the garret ! {aside.) — What 
 can he want with poor old aunt ? — mayhap he is the 
 Undertaker. I'll ax him. (to Thistle bloom.) — Be you 
 come to bury the diseased ? 
 
 Thistle. To be sure I am ! 
 
 Ben. (Aside.) Undertaker, sure enough ! — I'll 
 send Muster Tapsly to you. \^Exit' 
 
 Thistle. Poor Jeremy ? we are here to-day, and 
 gone to-morroiV ! I have not dared to acquaint my 
 sister or Emily of this catastrophe ! Why the deuce 
 did he come to life again at all ? 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. H7 
 
 Enter Tapsley looking about, 
 
 Tafis. Ben said the undertaker was here, {sees 
 Thistlebloom.) — Bless my soul, Squire ! beg pardon 
 for not seeing you ; but we are all in confusion. 
 
 Thistle. Ah ! I know, I know — natural enough — 
 with a house of mourning! 
 
 Taps. Never mind that» sir — it's nothing to us — 
 excepting to show a little decency, or I should not 
 have had the coffee-room shutters up. — That need 
 not interfere with our good spirits ; it was quite time 
 for the poor old thing to hop the twig. Well, 
 Squire — {rubbing his hands) — you have come over 
 to see your long lost brother.^ 
 
 Thistle. How unfeeling of you, Tapsly ! — Where 
 have you put my brother?^ 
 
 Tapsly. He is in the next room ! 
 
 Thistle. I thought he was up-stairs ! 
 
 Tafisly. The chambermaid may have taken him 
 up stairs; but I left him in No. 5. 
 
 Thistle. The chambermaid carried him up-stairs 
 — impossible ! his figure must have been much re- 
 duced in thirty years — how did he look .'' 
 
 Tapsly. Rather pale ; but he v/ill look better af- 
 ter dinner. 
 
 Thistle. What! show me instantly where he lies. 
 
 IGoing, 
 
 Tapsly. (stopping him.) I need not trouble you to 
 walk up stai,rs, sir; if your brother is not already 
 down, he will be down directly. 
 
 Thistle. What— his body I 
 
 Tapsly. Yes — he has ordered his sole in here! 
 {points to room.) 
 
 Thistle. If you are not intoxicated, Tapsly, you 
 are the m9st irreverent man I ever met. I demand 
 a^direct answ^er. Where have you put Mr. Jeremy 
 Thistlebloom } 
 
 Tapsly. Ut^re, Squire, here— {bell tolls.) 
 
 {Tafisly throws open folding-doors ^ and discovers 
 Jeremy seated at table, with covered dishes before 
 , him — lights on the table.) 
 
58 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake. 
 
 Thist. ( Covers his face with his handkerchief, and, 
 afipronches Che door with his head averted — starts 
 back.) Jer — Jere — Jeremy ! '^ 
 
 Jeremy, {rising with nafikin.) Guy ! Guy ! 
 
 Thistle. Yes — it is, it is my long lost brother — and 
 alive! {they rush into each other^s arms.) 
 
 Jeremy. Alive! — for thirty years I have not felt 
 so alive as at this moment. 1 — I have sco-ned the 
 thought and ridiculed the idea of tears in a man's 
 eye ; but f feel my heart overflowing, {embracea 
 Thistlebloom again,) 
 
 Thistle. I thought you were killed in a duel — here 
 — see your second letter to n'.e. ( firoduces it. J 
 
 Jeremy. By what accident could that have been 
 conveyed to you ? I entrusted it to O'Doggrely. 
 
 Thistle. No matter^ no matter — the shock is over, 
 you are living, that is enough ; come home with me, 
 and we never part again, till you die in earnest. 
 {hugs him.) 
 
 Enter Mrs. Tapsly. 
 
 Mrs. Tafis. Please your Worship, the Beadle is 
 below — he saw your Worship's carriage at the door 
 — it seems he has got the poor dear Irish gentleman 
 a prisoner in the cage. 
 
 Thistle. Why have they put him there? 
 
 Mrs. Tufis. For fighting a duel, I believe, your 
 Worship. 
 
 Jeremy, (^laughs.) My second! I suppose they have 
 got Murphy too — ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Thistle. Tell them to bring Mr. O'Doggrely here. 
 
 lErii Mrs. Tufisly. 
 Then you have been called out, and have risked 
 your life.^ 
 
 Jeremy. Yes ; but the risk was not encountered. 
 We never had the pistols in our hands. I had a tal^ 
 to tell, which quenched the fire of my antagonist-- 
 but more of this anon. 
 
 (A noise without — O'Doggrely in altercation.) 
 
 O'Do^' {ll^ithout.) I'll punish every mother's sou 
 of ye from the top to the bottom of ye. J| 
 
Act. IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 59 
 
 ' (^Enters^ with straws sticking" about his fiersoii ; 
 the Beadle following him.) 
 
 O^Do^ I'll rhvme you for it. (takes out book.) 
 " Beadle— Wheedle- Deed ill !" 
 '• Constable — Unstable — Dunstable !" 
 Brine? me before your dunderheaded country justice: 
 and I'll make him tremble in his two armed chair. 
 
 Thistle. Your servant, Mr, O'Doggrely. 
 
 O^Vog. Mr. Thistlebloom, what brings you here? 
 
 Thistle. My duty as a dunderheaded country jus- 
 tice—what brought you here ? 
 
 Beadle. I did, your worship, (^bowing. J 
 
 Thistle. Retire. {Exit Beadle. 
 
 O'Dog.. And Mr. Courtington too ! Aren't you a 
 pretty principal } forsaking your second in the hour 
 of need ! 
 
 Jeremy. Where have you been, Mr. O'Doggrely ^ 
 
 O'Dog. I've been confined ! — been in the straw — 
 incarcerated in the cage adjoining the pound, with 
 two peep holes — on one side was a crowd of ragged 
 boys jibing andjesting, and on the other were a flock, 
 of impounded pigs, and a truant donkey, braying 
 and grunting — was this a fit situation for an Irish 
 gentleman who put his own life in danger lo serve 
 his friend? 
 
 Jeremy. How shall I apologise } — I am very sorry. 
 I acknowledge my want of thought. — What has be- 
 come of Mr Murphy ? 
 
 O'Dog. {chuckles ) Och, murther ! — Murphy was 
 in the cage as well as myself — your hand, Mr. Court- 
 ington — it wasn't your fault ! 
 
 Thistle. Courtington ! is that your name, Jeremy ? 
 
 Jeremy. It is my London name — but in future, 
 O'Doggrely, you will know me as Jeremy Thistle- 
 bloom, the brother of our respected Squire, here. 
 
 O'Dog, Brother — what! are you the — 
 
 Jeremy. The ill-looking, cross-grained, caustic 
 sort of fellow, who took himself off in a huff, thirty 
 years ago — the same: — but haik'ye, most careful se- 
 cond, how came ye to' dispatch the letter ? ( Thistle- 
 ibloom exhibits it. J 
 
60 THE CHANCERY SUIT. iPeake,, 
 
 O'Dug. Letter— f/ee/s in his pocket.) Oh ! that 
 cursed hole in my pocket ! — 1*11 never put my money 
 there again : — but by the powers, Mr. Jeremy ! you 
 ought not to have written that posthumous letter till 
 after you were dead. 
 
 Jeremy. And you should have taken care it was 
 not delivered till that time. 
 
 0*Dog'. Then it would have not gone at ail, you 
 know. 
 
 Thistle. Come, come, Jeremy, to your home for 
 life ! — your re-appearance filled me with joy — ha I 
 ha I ha ! — your disappearance sunk me to the pit of 
 despair — I wept — your revivication has now braced 
 my spirits up again — I'm tuned up to concert pitch. — 
 Brother, brother, don't let me down again, or it will 
 be all over with me, — I shall be a woe-begone, mise- 
 rable wretch — ^hey for Thistlebloom Hall ! come 
 home to the girls, to my sister and Emily come, 
 come, (becomes excited — and dances.) 
 
 •* Old King Cole was a jolly old soul — 
 Merry be the first of August," &c. &c, 
 
 O* Dog. (sings) " Ife wont go home*till the morn' 
 j'ng*." lExeujit 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Laivn at Thistlebloom Hall. — Ofien railing and gate 
 
 leading to Road. Part of the House on one side. 
 
 Enter Jenny — {thoughtfully.) 
 Jenny. How shall I be able to tell Miss Emily, — 
 and yet I must acquaint her — she must hear that her 
 own true love is to be killed at once, without having 
 it broken to her ; — it will require some care though. 
 — {looks off.) Miss Emily is at the -window. — (s/ieaks 
 off.) Miss, Miss! please to put on your bonnet and 
 shawl, and step down — I .never was in such a quan- 
 dary in my life — that is, never since my dear Dicky 
 fell down into the well — but we got him out again : 
 here she comes, poor thing ! little suspecting what 
 news I have for her. 
 
 < 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 61 
 
 Enter Emily. 
 
 Mtnily. jenny ! why — why, what is the matter 
 with the girl ? speak ! 
 
 Jenny. I ca*— nt, Miss>— Oh dear ! 
 
 Emily, Pray, Jenny, tell me what has occurred ?^— 
 how you tremble, child, ! 
 
 Jenny. Oh, Miss Emily! prepare all your courage! 
 I was down in the village at old widow Brown's — 
 you know the old widow ? 
 
 Emily, {imfiatiently.) Yes, yes. 
 
 Jenny. Her son is a constable : while I was there, 
 Mr. Tapsly came ; and I overheard him give an or- 
 der for the constable to go in search of Mr. Frede- 
 rick Blazoncourt and another gentleman, who were 
 gone out to fight a duel ! 
 
 Emily. A duel, Jenny ? what, Frederick ? and have 
 they been heard of since ? 
 
 Jenny. The officers brought back Mr. O'Duggre- 
 ly in custody, as he was connected with it somehow ; 
 but Mr. Frederick and the stranger escaped their 
 notice, and where left to battle it out in the Shrub- 
 bery ! 
 
 Emily. And his life is in danger ! Let me fly to 
 prevent, to preserve him from harm, to dash away 
 the murderous weapon levelled at his breast, and 
 prove my devotion, my everlasting affection. 
 
 {Snore a/i/ieara with the Sheriff's Queers out- 
 side the railitig-^fioints to Emily.) 
 
 Emiyl. Yes, I am determined — Jenny let us hasten 
 to the Shrubbery. 
 
 Jenny » Go, Miss ! — why we shall hear the pistols 
 fired off. 
 
 Emily. We may be in time to interrupt the dread- 
 ful meeting. — Come, my good girl— (cs they turn to 
 the gate. Snare and the Officers conceal themselves ) 
 —There is not a moment for thought—Oh ! Frede- 
 rick, Frederick, what false notion of honour could 
 have prevailed an you to risk on existence which is 
 •0 precious to all who know you ? 
 
 6 lExeunt Emily and Jenny. 
 
2. THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 
 
 Snark and Officers re-a/i/iear. 
 Snare. Egad ! this is lucky — they are gone towards 
 the Shrubbery, and are unprotected — Where is the 
 post chaise ? 
 
 Oiicer. Just beyond the trees, there, {fioints.) 
 Snare. Let Miss Travers proceed as far from this 
 house as possible. You will arrest her — carry her 
 into the chaise, and drive off rapidly on the London 
 road.—Stay, we must not be observed here, run like 
 plovers. [Excune. 
 
 SCENE IV. —Road adjoining- the Shrubbery —En- 
 ter Frederick, followed by Winterfield and 
 tivo GainekeeJierSy with guns. 
 
 Fred' {to Gamekeepers.) Return across the Pre- 
 serve to the Castle, kill a brace of pheasants, I 
 have made a promise to Mrs. Snare. 
 
 {Exeunt Gamekeepers, 
 — (to Winterjield.) Winterfield, I have dispatched 
 the gamekeepers, that we may speak in private. — 
 To answer my questions, you must endeavour to re- 
 call your memory. — Do you remember Colonel Tra- 
 vers j* 
 
 Jf inter. Let me see Colonel Travers, say you ? 
 
 (shakes his head.) No! 
 
 Fred' Ah ! (aside) There is a way of extricating 
 the truth from his treacherous recollection, which I 
 have practised with old Winterfield when 1 was a 
 boy. — Cto Winterjield) He was not married I be- 
 lieve. 
 
 H inter. I cannot charge my memory, whether the 
 Colonel was married or single ! 
 
 Fred. So ! (apart J By applying negatives, I per- 
 ceive I stand the belter chance of obtaining an af- 
 firmative. You never were at a wedding .•* 
 
 Hinter. Oh yes, sir. — I was at my own — I believe. 
 
 Fred. Pshaw! I mean, that you never attended any 
 other marriage ceremony than your own, in our 
 village church .•* 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 63 
 
 If inter. Yes, but I did— there was a fine to do, 
 when the Colonel carried his lady to church. 
 
 J^Ved. What Colonel, my good friend ? 
 
 Winter, Colonel Travers — (I told you so just now) 
 — 1 remember he presented me with five guineas 
 and a pair of white gloves, and I signed my name as 
 a witness of the marriage in the church book. 
 
 Fred. Ah ! are you positive of that ? 
 
 IVinter. As well as I can recollect. 
 
 Fred. Do you remember the maiden name of the 
 lady to whom the Colonel was united? 
 
 llinter. Oh! that is quite beyond my poor head 
 now. 
 
 Fred. It was not the daughter of lady Wood- 
 burn } 
 
 Winter. Why do you say she was not the daughter 
 of Lady Woodburn ; I tell you that Mrs. Colonel 
 Travers nvas the daughter of Lady Woodburn ; that 
 she was — my memory is only bad, when in the pre- 
 sence of Sir Bernard — he frights it all away. 
 
 Fred. Had the Colonel and Mrs. Travers any chil- 
 dren .»* 
 
 Winter. At this distance of time it is impossible 
 for me to say. 
 
 Fred. Happy are the parents who are not child- 
 less ! 
 
 If inter. But they had a child — a pretty little dark- 
 b aired girl ! 
 
 Fred. Indeed! — then no one knew by what name 
 that child was christened — I believe, the child was 
 not christened .** 
 
 Winter. It was though, — I saw it christened. Mrs. 
 Colonel Travers gave me two guineas, and a half-a- 
 dozen of Maderia, to drink the health of little Miss 
 Emily. I ought to rem.ember — but they are all 
 gone — gone — the Colouel was killed in Spain. Mrs. 
 Travers died of a broken heart, and the child I saw 
 christened died too. 
 
 Fred.. Who told you that > 
 
 Winter. Sir Bernard, Sir Bernard. — I think he 
 said the Colonel left a natural daughter- 
 
64 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [P^ke, 
 
 Fred. I will not detain you any longer, Winter- 
 field, — but be in the way in the Ca&tle, if I should 
 require you to repeat that which you have now told 
 me. 
 
 Winter, I have told you nothing ; but I shall be 
 frightened to death, if Sir Bernard is present, and 
 forget all, he is so stern — I think I remember when 
 he used to be a pleasanter gentleman to one than he 
 is now. \^ExU. 
 
 Fred, If it be true then, and Emily was not born 
 illegitimate, how grievously has she been wronged 
 of her inheritance ! Yes, I will go to Sir Bernard, 
 and insist on an immediate and public refutation of 
 Mr. Courtington*s charge ! The task is heavy, but 
 the ties of kindred, or the reverential love due even 
 to a Father must never prevail over the sacred feel- 
 ings of justice or of honor. [jEx/r.^ 
 
 Enter Jenny and Emily. 
 
 Jenny. This — this is the Shrubbery, Miss. 
 
 Emily. Hush ! speak low. 
 
 Jenny- {apart,) Oh, I hope they won't shoot^ 
 while we are here, the bullets may come this way- 
 
 Emily, How my heart throbs ! — footsteps.— Yes, 
 it must be Frederick and his adversary.— Jenny, en- 
 ter the copse, and listen if you hear voices. {Jenntf 
 goes up. cautiously y and disappears.) He may — he 
 will upbraid me for this unwarrantable intrusion, 
 but I will bear his reproaches meekly ! Ah Frede- 
 rick, Frederick ! {Enter the Sheriff's Oncers.) 
 Strangers so near me! 
 
 Officer. Sarvant, young lady ! your name is Miss 
 Emily Travers i 
 
 Emily. It is — Pray have you seen young Mr. 
 Blazoncourt in your way i* 
 
 Officer. No, Miss, he is not in my way ; I have a 
 little bit of business with you, if you please. Miss 
 Emily Travers, you are my prisoner, and must go 
 with me to London to the Fleet, by virtue of this 
 attachment. {Jirodnces it.) 
 
Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 65 
 
 Emily. Mercy ! — Impossible — and at such a mo- 
 ment! unhand me fellow ! (Two distinct re/iorts of 
 Jire-arms without. Emily shrieks, and falls in an at- 
 titude of firayer.) Oh ! horrible, they have dis- 
 charged their pistols. Frederick is wounded, per- 
 haps killed — Oh, moment of agony ! — 
 
 Re-ente7'JE'KMY, rutming. 
 
 Jenny Oh Miss, did vou hear the two gentlemen 
 fire > 
 
 Emily. Has he fallen ? 
 
 Jenny. I can't say. Miss: when I heard the pis- 
 tols 1^0 off, I ran back as fast as I could. 
 
 Officer, {taking' Emily by the wrist. J Come, come, 
 young lady, you must just step into the chaise 
 yonder. 
 
 Emily. Nay, do not drag me, sir — Jenny hasten to 
 the Hall, say they are carrying me off — fly! 
 
 Jenny. O Miss, I cannot leave you thus. 
 
 Emily. Your rapidity is the only chance for my 
 safety. 
 
 Jenny. Oh, you horrid wretches! 
 
 [Ejcit Jenny y hastily, 
 
 Oifcer. Come ! 
 
 Emily. Stay, stay — one moment — here is money : 
 suffer me to cross the Shrubbery, this purse is yours. 
 
 Officer, I know my business better than that — 
 come, or I must use force, so it were best you went 
 quietly at once- {struggling.) 
 
 Emily. Help! help! will no one aid the unfortu- 
 nate? — I sink — I faint, 
 
 {Erederick rushes on — throws the Officer -violent- 
 ly from Emily ^ whom he sufifiorts — she 
 sxvoons iji his arms.) 
 
 Fred. Scoundrel ! what means this infamous con- 
 duct ? 
 
 O^cer. It means that you are obstructing an offi- 
 :r in the performance of his duty. 
 
 '^sed. Officer! Who is vour employer ? 
 6* 
 
66 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 
 
 Officer. The Sheriff of the county, {apfiroaching.) 
 Fred. Dare to come near her, and I will dash you 
 to the earth — Revive — revive, dear Emily! it is a 
 friend supports you ; fear no harm, you are safe. 
 
 Emily. Frederick — Frederick ! but you are 
 wounded! 
 
 ( Rafiidty glances at him^ and fiasses her hand 
 over his forehead and arm.) 
 Fred. Wounded, Emily ! — No. 
 Emily. The rumour of the duel — the recent dis- 
 charge of fire arms — 
 
 Fred. The duel was happily prevented — the re- 
 ports you heard just now proceeded from the guns 
 of my gamekeepers : permii me, my dear Emily, to 
 escort you in safety home, 
 
 Officer. This won't do, sir, this here's a rescue — 
 the lady goes with me. — Jem, keep the gemman off. 
 Fred. At your peril. — I will be answerable for 
 the appearance of Miss Travers. (The Sherijff'^s 
 Officer struggles with Frederick, nvhen O* Doggrely 
 enters with a cudgel and strikes him down. J 
 
 O'Dog. There's a penn'orth of Siielalagh for you. 
 
 Enter Snare, (at the back.) 
 Snare. Eh! how! here's a new case — assault and 
 battery. 
 
 O'Dog. Another and another succeed, like their 
 Majesties in Macbeth. *' Out damned spot !" — 
 (drives oJ[f the other Officer — sees Snare.) Och ! stay, 
 my dear boy — taste my stick liquorice. (Snare ru?is 
 q/7')Hulloloo ! Mr. Snare runs like a hare — and you 
 my catchpole friend, never begin that of which you 
 have never well considered the end. — (/luts his fool 
 on the Sheriff's Officer. J " Pardon me, thou bleeding 
 piece of earth, that 1 am meek and gentle," and 
 good-day to you.— Come Miss. Exeunt. 
 
 , ,^END OF ACT IV. 
 
 L.of C. 
 
 d 
 
Act v.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 67 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I Parlour at Thistlebloom Hall. 
 
 Enter Thistlebloom and Jeremy. 
 
 Thistle. But sit down, sit still for half an hour. 
 Jeremy. I can't sit still at present. 
 
 Thistle. No more can I — I am all excitement- 
 Jeremy, you are my junior, you young dog! — how 
 dare yon play your relations such a trick •* — but ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! I am devilish glad to hold you in my arms 
 again. {Embraces ) 
 
 Jeremy. That is the forty-first embrace I have 
 had within the last half hour. I have business 
 down here too. 
 
 Thistle. Business! — a fig for business I I won't 
 allow it. I will have nothing but a round of plea- 
 sure for the next twelvemonth — feasting and merri- 
 snent. I'll portion, the maids — I'll give away fat 
 ewes and pretty spinsters — I'll marry all the men — 
 girls, I mean — I'll go round, and kiss all the old wo- 
 men in the parish. 
 
 Jeremy. But still my business must be attended to. 
 
 Thistle. It shan't. 
 
 Jeremy. Then my pleasure must be attended to. 
 
 Thistle. It shall : what is it ? 
 
 Jeremy. To replace the wronged Emily Travers 
 in the inheritance of her forefathers. 
 
 Thistle, {anjciously ) And is there a possibility.^ 
 
 Jeremy. No, but there is a certainty. 
 
 Thistle, {elated ) Are you positive .»* 
 
 Jeremy. Sure. 
 
 Thistle. Did you ever see me jump over a table .^ 
 
 Jeremy. Not for these forty years. 
 
 Thistle. Here goes, [runs, but is stopt by Teremy.") 
 
 Jeremy. Be cool ; {struggling and holding him) — 
 
 VU break your limbs. 
 
 "Ihistle. Just let me deliver a short, quiet message 
 kt of this window. 
 
68 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake^ 
 
 Jeremy Well, well ! (they go to the window — Jere. 
 holds hiinj You shall not throw yourself out, with 
 your excitement. 
 
 Thistle. I am tranquil, placid.— What I have to 
 say out of this window is perfectly calm and reason- 
 able, {vociferates Loudly) Jenkins! Whipper In! 
 Yoicks! bring all the fox-hounds up into the draw- 
 ing room. 
 
 Jeremy. Mercy on us ! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Post. 
 
 Mrs, Post. Heyday! what is the meaning of this 
 disburbance? A stange gentleman ! (curtsies formal 
 ly) Pray may I presume to enquire — ? 
 
 Thistle. Yes, Miss Tliistlebloom, otherwise, the 
 Widow Post, you may enquire, and I will explain. 
 Allow me to explain clearly — explicitly. The fact 
 is, extraordinary affair — lapse of years — wonderful 
 intervention-— cheering occurrence, — like exhuming 
 the dead ! We'll dance all night, set the bells ring- 
 ing, blaze a bonfire : for we have turned up Pam — 
 turned up Pam — (he flushes Jeremy towards Mrs, 
 Post) Pam ! 
 
 Mrs. Post. Pam ? 
 
 Thistle. Yes; take that young dog to your arms. 
 What, refuse? then I will. ( hugs Jeremy .J 
 
 Jeremy. Forty -two! 
 
 Thistle. You hai-d-hearted, fat old relic, here's 
 your long-lost brother Jeremy, whom we all thought 
 defunct ; kiss him, kiss him I 
 
 Mrs. Post. Jeremy Thistlebloom ! can it be ! (fiuts 
 on sfiectacles) It is, it is! (they embrace — Thistle- 
 bloom hugs them both) 
 
 Jeremy. Forty-three! 
 
 Mrs. Post. Bless me, brother Jeremy, hovv you 
 are altered ! you used to be uncommonly handsome,^ 
 
 Jeremy. I fear the law has had some effect on lii] 
 countenance. 
 
 Thistle. Used to be uncommonly handsome ! 
 ha! ha! We were all pretty once. I reni 
 
Act v.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 69 
 
 sister, when you were pretty. Don't I recollect 
 when you resembled the picture — the portrait paint- 
 ed at eighteen ? the hair powdered, a long waisted 
 white satin negligee, a grey parrot on your thumb, 
 with a cherry in its beak ? Don't I remember when 
 you were handsome? Ha! ha! ha! nothing shall 
 ■ever make me melancholy again, no power on earth. 
 
 Jenny runs iti, 
 
 Jenny, Oh! master, master, master! 
 
 Thistle. What now madcap ? 
 
 Jenny. yihsKmWyl 
 
 Thistle. What of my darling? 
 
 Jenny. She walked our — shrubbery — ill-looking 
 man — taken her prisoner — parchment — postchaise ! 
 
 Thistle {mournfully) They are conveying her to 
 the Fleet ! I am a miserable old wretch again ! 
 
 Jeremy, The arrest is illegal ; we will punish the 
 offenders. 
 
 Mrs. Post. But what will recompense poor Emily, 
 for her horror and alarm ? Go, brother, in pursuit. 
 
 Thistle. Yes, yes — I was absorbed — Jenkins — sad- 
 dle Thunderbolt, give me my horse pistols — Miss 
 Emily is kidnapped. Oh, ho! oh, ho! yoicks! 
 
 {^£jcit, running; 
 
 Mrs. Post. This dear and amiable girl is the vic- 
 tim of vicissitude! 
 
 Jeremy. Her anxieties will not be of long duration. 
 A few days shall replace her father's estate in her 
 possession, and a few days, if she objects not, shall 
 .unite her to the man of her heart. 
 
 Thistle, {without) Yoicks, yoicks, yoicks! 
 
 Voices, (without) Huzza, huz;^a! — Miss Emily— 
 tiuzza! 
 
 Enter Thistlebloom, in high glee, leading on 
 
 Emily. 
 
 jktThistle. She is recovered; her gallant deliverer 
 
 ^aWd her in my hands, and has returned to the 
 
 Oa^iJfc avoid our thanks. Frederick is a noble feL 
 
 1 
 
70 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 
 
 Emily. Yes, he is indeed noble, — noble in mind, 
 generous in heart, and ever the friend to the unfor- 
 tunate. 
 
 Jenny, Did Mr. Frederick rescue you, miss? {fiuts 
 her afiron to her eyes) I can't help it, I can't help it; 
 but goodness bless him! 
 
 Thistle. Mr. Blazoncourt requests, that when Emi- 
 ly has recovered her late alarm, we should all go 
 over to the Castle. There is a matter of importance 
 immediately to be explained, and he particularly 
 requires your assistance, Jeremy. 
 
 Jeremy. Without it, the explanation would be use- 
 less. Come, and prepare yourselves for an edifying 
 sight. You shall see a proud sinner tremble. [Exit. 
 
 Thistle. My own Y\X.X\q p.ortegee returned in safety: 
 I am again in an ecstacy of bliss, {kisses he?-) Sister, 
 I am so rejoiced, (kisses Mrs. Post, and puts them 
 oj;, turns and looks at Jemiy) Jenny, girl, you 
 brought the first intelligence, (kisses Jenny) There's a ^ 
 kiss for you, — and here, something more pleasant, 
 from an elderly gentleman, (gives money, and runs 
 oj^ with her, singing) " Youth's the season made for 
 joy," &c. 
 
 SCENE THE L^ST.— Library at Blazoncourt 
 
 Castle. 
 
 Sir Bernard discovered at table ^ — (A box of pa' 
 pers. 
 Sir Ber. The last fond hope of my ambition, the 
 elevation of my son, is destroyed by his own agency, ■ 
 His mind is noble; it is I who am the the degraded 
 the self accused, miserable being. Policy woulc, 
 say, consent to Frederick's union vvith Emily Tra 
 vers, but Pride forbids the match, (looks at the box 
 Cannot I suppress the damning fraud .-* (takes out i 
 fiaper) Destroy this document, this accursed dopd 
 
 Woodburn property in the Court of •5'*^^|j|^T 
 long. Once destroyed, my heart would be^ghtt 
 I'll give up my claim (such as it is) t(;)jj.^the estat 
 
Act V.J THE CHANCERY SUIT. 71 
 
 and permit Frederick to lead Emily to the altar. — I 
 am tempted — a secret pleasurable feeling, unknown 
 to me for years, pervades ; it is but tearing this, and 
 — \_a knock at the door) Ha! who is there? {Jias.ily 
 refi la ces the fiafier,) 
 
 Fred. Your son, sir. 
 
 Sir Ber. Come in. 
 
 Enter Frederick. 
 
 Fred. Pardon, sir, my intrusion — lam come to 
 complain of an act of gross injustice. The zeal of 
 your agents. I hope, has exceeded the limit of their 
 directions — Miss Travers, already too much perse- 
 cuted, has been insulted, arrested, and it appears, 
 under your cognizance. 
 
 Sir Ber. And what right have you to interfere with 
 a matter of legal form ? 
 
 Fred. Right, I had none : but I rescued her from 
 the hands of the ruffian who was employed. 
 
 Sir Ber. How dared you to 
 
 Fred, Circumstances, sir, have made me acquaint- 
 ed with certain facts 
 
 Sir Ber, "Which you have confided to your worthy 
 Irish associate. 
 
 Fred. Never. — Forgive me, father, for pressing 
 he matter deeply — your honour — the honour of the 
 amily demands an immediate and strict investiga- 
 .ion of your claims to the Woodburn Estate ? 
 
 Sir Ber. My pride forbids dictation. Sir. 
 
 Fred. My confidence in your rectitude has induced 
 ne to anticipate you in proposing proudly to vindi- 
 ;ate your character, and I have promised that, in 
 ';he presence of the Thistlebloom family, you will 
 permit a document in your possession (signed by the 
 late Colonel Travers) to be examined. 
 1 Sir Ber. Ha! 
 
 red. I have appointed Mr. Thistlebloom, Miss 
 ^ and a legal friend to meet me here. 
 "^ '^ilHb^^u have been hasty, sir. 
 
72 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake 
 
 Fred. The more rapidly a spot is erased^ the less 
 likely is it to leave a stain. 
 
 Sir Ber. I will meet them—confront me with my 
 accusers ! 
 
 Fred. To prove yourself triumphant, my father ! 
 I will introduce them now, \_ExU. 
 
 Sir Ber. The paper has passed the scrutiny of an 
 open court — is recorded as a valid instrument — obli- 
 vion has sealed the mouths of the witnesses of the 
 marriage — I am secure— proudly secure — they come! 
 
 Re-enter Frederick, leading Emily, Thistle- 
 Bloom, Mrs. Post, and Jeremy. 
 {Sir Bernard bows coldly.) 
 
 Thistle. Your servant. Sir Bernard, your servant? 
 — it is many a year since I have been under your 
 roof. — My sister, sir, (introducing) — a little the 
 worse for wear — my ward, Miss Emily Travers — 
 and this is my brother, Mr. Jeremy Thistlebloom. 
 
 Sir Ber, Your delicacy, I think, should have ex- 
 cused Miss Travers* presence in the elucidation of a 
 matter which cannot fail to be perplexing to her feel- 
 ings. 
 
 Fred. Miss Travers, sir, is too deeply interested 
 in the result of the investigation to be absent. 
 
 Sir Ber. Which I beg may instantly commence. 
 Cecils off) Desire Mr. Snare to attend me. 
 
 Thistle. Mr. Snare! Well, it is lucky I have brought 
 my legal adviser with me. (to Sir Ber) My brother, 
 sir, is one of the long robe and double-tailed wig 
 tribe. Jeremy, I put the cause into your hands. 
 
 Enter Snare, bowing — sees Emily and Mrs. Post. 
 Is embarrassed — bows sheefiiahly to iheniy and take» 
 his filace at the table. ** ' 
 
 Jeremy. Sir Bernard, with permission, I wish '^ 
 ask a question of an ancient servant of yours, ' 
 Winteraeld. 
 
 Sir Ber. Ha! {aside) It is safe. H^ 
 %oiie,'^{8fieaks off) Let Winterfield b< 
 
Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 75 
 
 now. Sirs, to shorten the affair, behold that instru- 
 ment. 
 
 [ Snare hands a fiafier Jrotn the box to Jeremy. '\ 
 
 Snare. That, sir, is the document duly attested, 
 first having been executed by the within named 
 Godfrey Hu^h Travers, declaring that his daughter 
 Emily was not the offspring of lawful wedlock, <Sic. 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Jeremy, {with a sneer) Thank you, sir, I have 
 seen that paper before. 
 
 Enter Winterfield. 
 
 Winter, {aftart) Good gracious! what can they 
 want with me ? I am all in a twitter. 
 
 Snare. Mr. Winterfield is in court. 
 
 liinter. How alarming! 
 
 Jeremy. Mr. Winterfield, you were, I believe, 
 at the wedding of Colonel Travers } 
 
 Winter. Not that I remember. I am old — my me- 
 mory is crazed. 
 
 Jeremy. Come, come, my good man, you must re- 
 collect that event ? 
 
 IPinter. {with a vacant look) I should be happy 
 to remember any thing, — but it is all gone here— 
 C touches his head J — gone ! — gone ! 
 
 Fred, (aside) Confusion ! How treacherous! 
 
 Snore. Hark ye, Mr. Winterfield!* Do you think 
 you should know the hand writing of Colonel Tra- 
 vers, if you saw it ? The Colonel was in the habit of 
 franking letters for you. 
 
 Winter. Was he ! — very good of him, if he did ! 
 
 Sir Der, {sternly) Look at the signature of that 
 paper. See if you recollect it- 
 
 Winter, {tremblingly puts on spectacles, and look* 
 attentively) Ye — yes. I think 1 should say that that 
 the handwriting of the Colonel. 
 
 father's honour will be cleared, 
 
 se fails: — they cannot prove 
 
 t h at sh< ' 
 
 ThlsiW^ff^Sff^ifigly to Mrs Post) We had bet- 
 ■" 7 
 
74 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peakr. 
 
 ter have stopped at home, sister. Never mind, Emi- 
 ly, we shall ever protect you ! 
 
 Sir Ber. Are your unjust suspicions now satisfied ? 
 
 Jeremy. Sir Bernard, your pardon! Ladies and 
 gentlemen, I have to apologise, and to beg that you 
 will, lor a few moments, retire to the inner library. 
 Sir Bernard will grant me a brief private conversa- 
 tion. {Sir Bernard hows.) 
 
 [^Exeunt all but Sir Bernard and Jeremy, Snare 
 lingers^ mending a fien, 
 
 Jeremy. We can dispense with your attendance, 
 Sir. 
 
 Snare. Oh ! [Exit. 
 
 C Jeremy shuts the Library door. J 
 
 Sir Ber. How, Sir ! do you not consider this evi- 
 dence conclusive ? 
 
 Jeremy. No — the document is forged — the signa- 
 ture is forgery. 
 
 Sir Ber. You will find that difficult to prove, sir. 
 
 Jeremy. You knew a person named Mandeville ? 
 
 Sir Ber. (starts) What of Mandeville ? 
 
 Jeremy. He is no more. 
 
 Sir Ber. (aside) I breathe again. 
 
 Jeremy. On his death -bed, he confessed to having 
 forged this instrument — his last words are here, pro- 
 perly attested. (Jiulls p-afiers from his bosom.) 
 
 Sir Ber. All- all delusive! — Mandeville lived and 
 died a villain. I will resist this conspiracy to defraud 
 me of my just claims to the Woodworth Estate. — If 
 you can produce no better evidence than the ravings 
 of a dying felon, recall your company — ^^I hurl defi- 
 ance at you — quit my house ! 
 
 Jeremy. Hold, Sir Bernard ! It is the admiration 
 of the noble character of your son, that induces me 
 not to scar his heart with your branded guilt* be- 
 hold this boasted document! it may, supported^ 
 perjury, have passed as valid^al^^urt of ' 
 but behold, sir, unless you ar5|MH||nd- 
 ought to be, the written date is 179^ observe i 
 
Act v.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 75 
 
 Sir Ber. That was the period when it was execu- 
 ted by Colonel Travers. 
 
 Jeremy. Sir Bernard, you avow that this instru- 
 ment was written and signed in 1798 ; again look at 
 it ; — up to the light — see — the sheet of paper itself 
 was not manufactured until 1803 ; thanks to the wo- 
 ven mark, with the makers name! — What say you 
 now, sir? — shall I recall Mr. Snare as an evidence of 
 this fact ? 
 
 Sir Ber. Curses !— I am ruined— do not expose me 
 — I — I will relinquish all. 
 
 Jeremy. That I permit you to escape from other 
 infliction than that of your own conscience, is attri- 
 butable to your excellent son. I will not injure the 
 happiness of Frederick Blazoncourt by pursuing his 
 father with the merited rigour of justice ! You are 
 in my power, and this document is ample proof a- 
 gainst you. There is but one way to purchase my 
 secrecy —immediately to consent to the union of your 
 son to Emily Travers — and in the presence of cor 
 friends to destroy this fatal paper. 
 
 Sir Ber. I am fallen in the toil, sir. 
 
 Jeremy^ A toil prepared by yourself, (goea to the 
 door J — Mr. Blazoncourt, come in, sir, with your 
 fair charge ! 
 
 Enter Frederick, Emily, Thistleloom, Mrs. 
 
 Post, Snark, and O'Doggrely. 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, congratulate me ; my argu- 
 ments have been unanswerable, and I have prevail- 
 ed. Sir Bernard is now convinced that Miss Tra* 
 vers is the rightful heiress of the Woodburn proper- 
 ty. In renouncing his claim, he destroys that ob- 
 noxious document. i^Sir Bernard tears the fiufier) 
 Snare. What are you about. Sir ^ 
 ^^^^emy. Doing the wisest thing in his power, Mr, 
 
 ^^^W^. Be-q^PpM k e ; its only a tear. 
 
 A Jeremy. The n.ejjt^^^Bkf Sir Bernard's policy and 
 
 II 
 
 feeling will b^^^Hpn the presence of assem- 
 
76 THE CHANCERY SUIT. lPeak4 
 
 bled friends, he gives his unqualified consent to the! 
 marriage of his son with Emily Travers. — Sir Ber-i 
 nard, they are worthy of each other. {Jeiemy leadi^ 
 them to Sir Bertiardy ivho joins their hands,) 
 
 Fred. This kindness is unlooked for — thanks,;] 
 blessings on you, my father! {presents Emily to Srr\ 
 Bernard.) \ 
 
 Thistle. Why, Jeremy, you young dog! I havel 
 been endeavouring to settle this for llie last eighteen; 
 years. | 
 
 Jeremy, Endeavouring — no, you have been trying] 
 it. I have arranged it out of Court. 
 
 Thistle. Now, if ever I am miserable again agam,i 
 may I be — — 
 
 Mrs. Post, (stops his mouth) Married ! — Mr. 
 Snare, have you commenced that little legal affair 
 for me ? 
 
 Snare. Why I found the defendant, Mrs. Snare, 
 a very awkward person to deal with. 
 Mrs, Post. To deal with, so did 1. 
 Sna.e. I am afraid, instead af commencing an ac- 
 tion, I must call in the authority of the principal of 
 the Home department. 
 
 Fred. Emily mine, and established in her rights! 
 Happiness will indeed be our portion, if we should 
 now obtain the smiles and suffrages of surrouiiding 
 friends. Proof that our humble efforts have deserv 
 ed commendation ; — and thus ends the Chancery 
 Suit. 
 
 0*Dog. (taki7ig- out his book^ and advancinc^ to ifu 
 Audience,) 
 
 " The Verdict given in this Cause, 
 
 ril venture to record with great applause. 
 
 Yes, and as we meet with no denial, 
 
 i beg- to move, my l.ud — AioTHEK Tbial !'* vt". 
 
 THK 
 
LIBRARY