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 L161— 0-1096 
 
JONATHAN BRA 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MURDER AT THE I p^-SIDE INN, 
 
 ^ iWelo=©vama, 
 
 IN TWO ACTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD FITZBALL, Esq. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 Walter Brand MargareVs Ghost, Tom Cringle,' ' The 
 Deserted MillT “ The Wood Devil," “ The Black Hand," 
 
 “ The Lord of the Isles," &c., &c. 
 
 THOMAS HAILES LACY, 
 
 89, STRAND, LONDON. 
 
JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 
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JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 Scene First. — The Exterior of a Roadside Inn ; the Road 
 enters hy the R., passes under an arched sign in c,, “The 
 Creorge Inn,” and then going through a turnpike gate at hack^ 
 disappears in the distant country, A direction post on the R., 
 “ To Oxford.” — Evening. 
 
 At the rising of the curtain^ Jack discovered cleaning bottles 
 at a horse trough. 
 
 AR, — Jack. 
 
 A lad at an. inn. leads a stirring life 
 Each moment his consequence swells, 
 
 He brushes the beau from the top to the toe, 
 
 And is always in quest by the bells. 
 
 Content he remains just to run, rub and scnib, 
 
 Till Love with a kind of a way of its own. 
 
 Like the shot in this bottle, steals into his heart, 
 
 And shakes him just thus up and down. 
 
 And shakes, &c. 
 
 Jack. Half-a-year to-day, by the notches I cut in the horse- 
 trough, since I became boots to the George Inn, here, on the 
 Oxford Road — the very best house of call, all the way from 
 Lunnon, and kept by Mister Jonathan Bradford ; thjcaigh. I say 
 it, as honest and warm-hearted a landlord as ever poured out a 
 noggin of ale, or drove cork into bottle; no double scoring 
 here — no short measure ; — no adulterated liquors ; — none of 
 your Lunnun tricks ; — no, no 1 money^s worth for money, is my 
 master’s maxim, aye, and missus’s, too. I always notices 
 when she do measure out the peppermints and the Hollanses at 
 the bar-, that she do like to see the glass run over, just as if 
 she set it sparkling by her own eyes Then, as for boots, 
 where’ll they find a more neaterer fit than I ? — not in Lunnun.,. 
 I calculates ; but as the song says, as I was a singing of — 
 
 “ Content I remain just to rub, iiin, and scrub, &c,” 
 
Sc. 1.] 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 Eater bALL\ biGH about, r., over bridge^ nursing one of Brad- 
 ford's children^ and leading the other. 
 
 ;Sally. (r.) Keigho! upon my word, Mister Rackbottle, 
 you seems uncommon werry merry, this evening. 
 
 * ^ Missis Sallv; it’s a bad conscience 
 
 indeed, as is melancholy without a cause. Why ben’t you as 
 merry as I A oii’ve an easy place on’t here. 
 
 Sally. I merry, indeed! I tliat haven’t been a widderer 
 more than six months. 
 
 Jack. To be sure ; to do the thing genteelv, 3^11 must 
 remain a Avidderer six months more. 
 
 Sally. That’s the worst on’t — that is — I meant to say 
 
 Jack, ihat it s a great pity hiving lost your old boots, you 
 cannot immediately tak up wi’ new boots— that’s me. 
 
 Sall\ . Indeed, Mr. Jack, I meant no such tiling; and though 
 my husband was old, and we waru’t united above three montlis,, 
 
 1 more nor i’il ever let any bod}" know; you 
 
 Shan t knowit, it’s a nights I thinks on him most ; sich dreams! 
 sich happeritioiis !— would you believe it. ’twas but last night 
 thought he was Jealous on me, as usual, and there he was a 
 raging, and a stamping, and a running arter me with the old 
 boot, round and round the — (Jack laughs) You don’t wants 
 to laugh ; It was only a wision 
 
 Winch the sooner you changes for reality, the better. 
 What s a female voman of herself? she’s a boot without a fut— 
 
 a brush without a back— a currycomb without a horse — a 
 
 {^ALLY. ^You’re right, Mr. Jack, I feels that you are right; 
 then there s that little bit of money my poor dear husband left 
 me ; tis a mouldering away, as I may say, in my keeping; it 
 
 might serve to set up an honest couple in an honest way 
 
 rf' i there’s the little ale house, 
 
 the Dog in Pattens,” across the moor. With an active little 
 landlord, something of my figure, and a genteel, pretty landlady, 
 something of your figure, eh ? ’ ^ 
 
 Sally He, he, he] none of your seductivating flatteries, 
 Mr. itackbottle ; 1 never give not no encouragement to sich 
 chimenes, not I ! in rny sittiwation, a widderer only six 
 inonths oh. hat— (whispermg) if, when the children are 
 abed, you likes to come into the little back kitchen, and advise 
 me tor the best, 1 11 take it as a kindh" consideration ; for I’m 
 very u^nhappy, though I doesn’t chuse, as I said afore, not to 
 let nobody know it— heigho ] 
 
 Jack. But, Missis Sally — Widder Sighabout, I means 
 
 bALLY. Hush ! here’s missus. (Jack runs and begins to clean 
 bottles to children) Play pretty ! play pretty ’ Here we go up, 
 up, up, &c. {singing and tossing Child) 
 
JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Enter ANN,/ro/?i the Inn^ R. 
 
 Ann. {crosses to c.) Well, Sally, did you see your master 
 returning from Oxford ? 
 
 Sally. No, Missus ; I walked to tlie top of the hill, too ; 
 but little Jane fell fast asleep in my arms, and little Mary 
 rubbed her eyes so, that the sooner they’re a bed the better, 
 says I ; and then I can sit down in the kitchen, and do a little 
 needlework — a stitch in time saves nine, {meaningly to Jack) 
 Ann. (Jcissing Children) Dear children, how beautiful they are ! 
 Little Jane, so like her father ! — that open smile, 
 
 ’Tis his ; the sunshine of an honest heart. 
 
 Take them to bed. When Jonathan returns, 
 
 He shall come and kiss them in their sleep : 
 
 If there’s a holy theft on earth, sure that is one, 
 
 When a fond parent steals, from innocent lips. 
 
 Affections’ purest draught, and closes up the ruby seal again, 
 With love’s own signet. Take them to bed, good Nurse. 
 
 Music. Exit Sally, with Children, into inn^ r. 
 
 Ann. Hark ! heard I not the wheels of a chaise ? 
 
 Jack. Yes, sure: they be driving into the inn yard — one, 
 two, three gentlemen, and measter with them. 
 
 Ann. You are right, ’tis Jonathan; he comes this way. 
 
 Jack. I’ll run and tend the horses. 
 
 Exit hade of inn^ R., over bridge. 
 Ann. I’m glad he is no later on the road, 
 
 And that he comes not by himself from Oxford. 
 
 These highwaymen who haunt, like snakes, the hedges. 
 
 Are ready at all hours to dart forth. No man 
 Is safe travelling, and alone. 
 
 Dear Jonathan, welcome home! Music. . 
 
 Enter Jonathan Bradford, over bridge., r. 
 
 Brad, (r.) Give me a kiss, wife ; another 1 
 
 The wine is good that smacks upon the lip : 
 
 How are the bantlings ? 
 
 Ann. (l.) Well, and both abed. 
 
 Brad. I’ve brought the lemons and the nutmegs. 
 
 The sugar, and the comfits for the children : 
 
 I’ve brought besides — what think you this is, Ann ? 
 
 {diewing a small packet) 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 Ann. What can it be ? 
 
 Brad. I’ll tell thee. 
 
 It is a pair of buckles ; though not diamonds. 
 Glittering bright they shine, as stars at even ; 
 
 Not costly are they, save as love enriches, 
 
 And turneth all things golden. Wear them, Ann, 
 
JONATHAN BRADFOKD. 
 
 7 
 
 Sc. 1.] 
 
 For my sake ; to-morrow is your birthday ; 
 
 A happy day we’ll make it, come what may. 
 
 Ann. Come what may? Oh, Jonathan, say not so ; 
 
 A thousand things might happen. In this world, 
 
 Nothing, you know, is certain. 
 
 Brad. Ah, thus you women 
 
 Always must be looking for the storm. 
 
 Well, ’tis your nature ; if on our joys ye lour. 
 
 Still, in our griefs, ye build the rainbow up. 
 
 And send the dove of promise to our hearts. 
 
 Ann. Forgive me, husband — I will wear these buckles 
 To-morrow ; it shall be a holiday, a merry one. 
 
 With Heaven’s good leave. 
 
 Brad. Bravely said ! I have rare news beside ; 
 
 The Parliament hath ta’en the tax off wine and spirits ; 
 That’s profitable to me. 
 
 Besides, the labouring classes will have more comforts. 
 And that’s what ought to be in a free country. 
 
 Ann. Aye, in any country. 
 
 Brad. True ! 
 
 For as the hive drone is to the bee, and the bee to the 
 hive drone. 
 
 So are the rich to the poor, — the poor to the rich, {crosses L.) 
 But in, Ann, and prepare supper : I bring customers. 
 Ann. Indeed ! who are they ? 
 
 Brad. Lawyer Dozey, and Surveyor Kodpole, 
 
 With one Mr. Adam Hayes, a wealthy man ; 
 
 He has bought the Manor House, and the purchase 
 Will be completed here. Look to your beds yourself ; 
 They sleep at our inn — prepare to welcome them. 
 
 Ann. I will, — and instant spread the supper cloth. 
 
 Exit into inn^ R. 
 
 Brad. This way, gentlemen ; this way ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Hayes, Dozey, and Rodpole, over hrldge^ R. 
 
 Hayes, (l. c.) ’Tis a pleasant house, this inn of yours 
 Bradford. 
 
 Rod. (r.) Just eleven miles, half a furlong, two rods, and 
 three barleycorns distance from Oxford, by mensuration. I’ll 
 be judged by any court — eh, lawyer ? 
 
 Dozey. (r. c.) Why, I can’t tell — that is to say, the afore- 
 said — {yawns) I hope supper’s ready ; I’m as sleepy as the 
 Cicero’s head on my bookcase, at my chambers in the Temple. 
 Yaw ! I hope the beds are good. 
 
 Brad, (l.) I trust, excellent ; and the supper and the wine 
 equally so. 
 
 Hayes. How long have you been landlord ? 
 
8 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFOED. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Brad. Scarcely yet a year, sir ; but pray, gentlemen, walk 
 in ; {crosses to R.) and I hope we shall make you as satisfied 
 with the new welcome, as you appear to have been with the 
 old. This way, gentlemen. They exit into Inn^ E. 
 
 Enter Sally from hehiad the inn^ R. 
 
 Sally. Jack ! Jack ! Heigho!— yes, it’s a melancholy life, 
 one leads without even a morsel of a husband ; and so afraid I 
 am of ghosts^ — not that I’m in any hurry to get married ; oh, 
 dear me, no — only when the men are always teazing, what can 
 a lone widderer do ? 
 
 Song — Sally. 
 
 A kind old man came wooing to me, 
 
 When my age it was scarce eighteen ; 
 
 He ask’d with a sigh, if his bride I’d be, 
 
 And he’d make me as rich as a queen. 
 
 No parents I had, no money I had. 
 
 Nor sweetheart that ever prov’d true — 
 
 If young men won’t, and old men will. 
 
 Lawks, what can a poor maiden do ? 
 
 Heigho — heigho ! 
 
 Lawks, what can a poor maiden do ? 
 
 And now I’m a widow you see, 
 
 Though my age it is scarce nineteen. 
 
 With gold in my purse, every lad would be, 
 
 Yes, my partner to dance on the green ; 
 
 No brother have I, no sister have I, 
 
 With no children to cling unto — 
 
 When old men die, and young men sigh, 
 
 Lawks, wliat can a lone widow do ? 
 
 Heigho — heigho ! 
 
 Lawks, what can a young widow do ? 
 
 Exit into inn^ R. 
 
 * 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 Scene Second. — Another Exterior of the Inn. (Is^ grooves) ) 
 Enter Dan Macraisy, l., hechoning. I 
 
 Macra. Here’s the George Inn, kept by Jonathan Bradford ; • 
 he’s a new one, and doesn’t know me. Caleb ! — divil burn the 
 fellow, it’s always before at being behind he is. Mister Caleb 
 Scrummidge, is it coming you are, or not, eh ? 
 
 Enter Caleb Scrummidge, l., timidly. 
 
 Caleb. Now, Dan— I say, Dan ! i 
 
 Macra. Dan, the divil ! —what d’ye mean by Dan ? It’s | 
 Squire O’Connor, I am here ; wid you, my cousin garmin, from | 
 my beautiful estate in Kilkenny. I 
 
JONATHAN BKADFORD. 
 
 9 
 
 Sc. 2.] 
 
 ’ Caleb. I your cousin ? Yes, you cozened me nicely, you 
 did; prevailed on me to rob my master. Mister Timothy Tick, 
 clock and watch maker, of Seven Dials, and run avay vith you, 
 to set up for a gentleman ; — it’s a gentleman wot’s going tick, 
 tick, tick, to the gallows as fast as a repeater wot’s broke it’s 
 main spring. 
 
 Macra. Always grumbling ! — another word, and I’ll lodge 
 a bullet in your impenetrable sconce. Haven’t I a schame to 
 make your fortune ? — haven’t I heard that Mr. Hayes slapes 
 there at the George Inn to-night, with a big purse of money 
 in his pocket ? — and don’t I know every room in the house as 
 if I was born in it ? — and won’t I transmogrify that bit of a 
 big purse into my own pocket, as nately as if it was made to 
 fit— eh ? 
 
 Caleb. I feels an alter as neatly round my throat as if it 
 was made to fit —oh ! 
 
 Macra. Courage ! — you shall stand recorded 
 
 Caleb. In the Newgate Calender, alongside of Highwayman 
 Billy, and Hotpepper Jack ; — a vheel vithin a vheel, as ve used 
 to say at Seven Dials. 
 
 Macra. {near window) Faith, it’s a good supper I’m sniffing. 
 Roast beef — horse radish — wine — brandy ! {peeping) 
 
 Caleb. A good supper ! wine 1 brandy ! — that there winds 
 me up into a horizontal position. Let’s ask whether we may 
 go in. 
 
 Macra. Ask? Och, that’s not the way to get anything. 
 Sure wasn’t that my own elegant mother’s maxim : — “ Dan,” 
 said she, in her dying injunction, the big tares tumbling down 
 her ould cheeks, like grane gooseberries in the mackarel 
 season ; — “ Dan,” said she, ‘‘ my only child — my pretty darlint, 
 remember your poor mother’s last advice ; beg, borrow, and 
 stale, if you wish to be respectable ; but if once you takes up 
 with dat dere modesty, it’s out o’doors you’ll be kicked intirely, 
 by fools and rogues !” So I remembers de ould cratur’s maxim, 
 and dis is de way I does it. {strutting) Ho ! landlord ! fellow ! 
 Boots ! ho ! hem ! {sings) 
 
 Air^ — St. Patrich vms a GentlemanP 
 
 We independent gentlemen. 
 
 We stay at home at ase. 
 
 We kiss the girls, and kick the men. 
 
 And do just as we plase. 
 
 Exitj R. 
 
 Caleb. Well, if ever — what a religious old lady his mamma 
 must have been ! Now, my mother she always shut me up on 
 a Sundays for playing at marlows on the tomb-stones, instead 
 of going to church, and said the halfpenny a week she allowed 
 
10 JONATHAN BRADFORD. [ACT. 1 . 
 
 me for superfluities, was better than a guinea a day not honestly 
 come by. Oh, my mother was a hignorant old cretur. Just 
 see, now, if the landlord an’t a scraping and a bowing to Dan 
 as if he vas the Hearl of Hessex ! Oho ! here’s to go for to 
 come the gentleman myself, or I shan’t get not no supper. 
 {struts oJbout) Votho! Landlord! feller! boots! ho! hem! 
 {sings) We hindependent gentlemen, 
 
 We sits down at our ease. 
 
 We heats roast beef, and drinks strong beer, 
 
 And does just as we please. 
 
 I feels as if I vos born to be a gentleman as veil as Dan ; — * 
 this is better than going to sea — the sea ! The sea as I likes 
 best, is that as flows from Yopping to Vindsor. 
 
 Song^ — Caleb. Air^ — The Sea ! The Sea !" 
 
 The sea, the sea ! the hugly sea. 
 
 So vide and deep, von’t do for me ; 
 
 Blow me to Kichmond from the Strand, 
 
 In a wessel vot’s ne’er out of sight o’ land ; 
 
 On the nice green deck vere safe I ride. 
 
 And kicks the shore on either side — 
 
 On double stout, and bread, and ’am, 
 
 Then, then’s the time to stuff and cram ; 
 
 With the blue above, and the blue below. 
 
 On a Sundays, there’s a pretty go ! 
 
 If a storm should come, no matter, there. 
 
 Your humberella is in the hair. 
 
 The sea, the sea, vere I vould dwell, 
 
 Lies in the sound of sweet Bow bell i 
 V ere the bargemen vhistles, and o’ Saturday night, 
 
 The little boys vashes their dingy backs vhite ; \ 
 
 I loves to sit on a barge of coals, | 
 
 And bob, with a frog on a pin, for soles. < 
 
 I VOS vonce shipwreck’d off Battersea, ( 
 
 And Sally a flopping ’long side of me, 1 
 
 For to roll the vhites of her eyes began, « 
 
 Like a mack’rel fried in a vanning pan — 
 
 Then drownded 1 thought ve both should be. 
 
 And Crowner’s inquest prove de sea. 
 
 And Crowner’s, &c. 
 
 Exit, R. 
 
 Scene Third. — An Apartment in the Inn, Table and chairs, 
 
 Jonathan, Hayes, Dozey, and Rodpole disc(yrered. Jack, 
 in vmiting ; they all sit, 
 
 Hayes, (l. of table) Drink freely, gentlemen ; I pay to-night. 
 
11 
 
 Sc. 3.] JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 Dozey. (r. of table, up towards top) That’s vastly conde- 
 scending. 
 
 Rod. (r. bottom of table) Correct by the Rule of Three. 
 
 Brad, {head of table) You must not, sir, look to surpass us all- 
 in generosity ; — I’ve some rare old wine, 
 
 And cannot broach it to a better toast. 
 
 Than health to the new Lord of the Manor, — 
 
 To Mr. Hayes ; — What say you gentlemen ? 
 
 Dozey. Admirable ! spoken like an orator ! 
 
 Rod. Just, by mensuration. 
 
 Hayes. Nay, I cannot permit 
 
 Brad. We must enforce compliance ; excuse me, sir, {ibises) 
 I will but brush the cobwebs from the bottles, 
 
 And straight again be with you. — Jack, this way. 
 
 Exit with Jack, l. 
 
 Hayes. Our host 
 
 Is of the true metal ; I’ll recommend him. 
 
 Dozey. He has a kind and grateful heart. 
 
 Correct in every sense of the law. 
 
 Re-enter Bradford, l., with bottle and cor1c-screw,—3 aqk with 
 glasses, dc. 
 
 Brad. Gentlemen, there are two strangers just arrived ; 
 
 The one, an Irishman, as he says, of condition, 
 
 Craves to be acquainted with this company 
 Shall I plead excuses for denial ? 
 
 UozEY. } Certainly! certainly! 
 
 Hayes. Nay, at a roadside Inn, this were ungracious ; 
 
 A weary traveller should not of brother traveller 
 Lack good fellowship — eh ? 
 
 Dozey. } 
 
 Hayes. Invite them in. Exit Jack, l. 
 
 Brad, {dravnng cork) Fill, gentlemen. 
 
 Here’s to the new Lord of the Manor ! 
 
 Enter Jack, showing in Dan, l. 
 
 Dan. Stay ! —be aisy ! {strutting from R. L. and back again) 
 It’s myself will drain that toast; myself, Janus O’Connor, 
 Esquire, on a pedestrian tour from my estate in Kilkenny, at 
 the company’s sarvice. Fill, landlord, fill. 
 
 Enter Caleb, l. 
 
 Caleb. And for me, also. I’ll drain it if it vos as deep 
 the veil at Aldgate. A bumper, a bumper ! 
 
 .\d. 
 
 as 
 
12 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 [Act 1., 
 
 Dan. {fiercely) Rape your distance, fellow ; stand behind, 
 and remain silent, or ITl discharge you — {aside^ and showing a 
 pistol) or this. This valet of mine, gentlemen, is a little bit of 
 a grane-horn, but for the sake of his honest parents, I kape 
 him, and am willing to tache him better manners. A glass for 
 me. (Jack gives glasB — they all drink Hayes’s health in dumb 
 show — Dan seated) 
 
 Caleb, {aside) I’m to be his wally ; he said he’d make me. a 
 gentleman ; I suppose he means me to commence as a gentle- 
 man’s gentleman — himmitations of my master ; them’s the first 
 rudiments of my eddication, and if I says a vord, he’ll blow 
 my brains out vith that there pistol. Oh, I vishes I vos at 
 Seven Dials again. 
 
 Hayes. Thanks, thanks, my friends ; but I am not quite 
 lord of the manor yet ; the estate is not paid for. 
 
 Dozey. But it will be, in the morning. 
 
 Hayes. When I have examined the title deeds, yes, on this 
 very table, if you like. In good truth, I shall be glad to be 
 disencumbered of the money ; it’s of considerable weight. 
 
 Mack. Faith, den, it’s about your person you carry the 
 amount, sir ? It’s a bag of money I have here, in my own coat 
 pocket ; but afraid I was of the highwaymen, I promise you ; j 
 oh, the road swarms with the blackguards, pick-purses. 1 ; 
 
 heard, too, toder day of a gentleman of my acquaintance, whose 
 pouch them spalpeens had cunningly lightened of its guineas, i 
 
 and substituted pebbles in their stead, so dat when he was ? 
 going to pay for an estate, as you may be going to do, may be, ^ 
 it was only pieces of brick-bat he had gotten in his purse 
 after all. : 
 
 Hayes, {smiling) That’s not my case, for luckily I travelled • 
 hither with friends ; and see, lawyer, the gold is all shining, — i 
 all counted ready, — ha ! ha ! : 
 
 Caleb, {catches Dan’s eye) Now he’s going to put a clapper ^ 
 on that there purse, but how hell do it is beyond the dial plate | 
 of my brains to pint out. That’ll be rudiment No. 2 in my < 
 eddication. o 
 
 Hayes, {rising) Host, with your leave, for I’m a man of ‘j 
 regular habits. I’ll retire for the night ; — you know the chain- » 
 ber ? 
 
 Brad, Oh, yes ! the one above the bar ; my wife will attend • 
 to the bed herself — Sally will light you up stairs. 
 
 Hayes. Thatchamber, on my different journeys from London 
 to Oxford, I’ve slept in for fifteen years ; — I, one night, dreamt 
 that I died there. 
 
 Brad, {starti^ig) Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Hayes. Why, my friend ? Ave must all die somewhere, and 
 so that it be in charity with mankind, why not in that bed as. 
 
JONATHAN BKADFOED. 
 
 13 
 
 Sc. 3.] 
 
 well as any other ? Good night ; we shall meet in the mornini^ 
 — now, a candle. 
 
 Brad. I’ll bear the light, sir. Exit with Hayes, l. 
 
 Macr. [ciside) In that chamber ! Sure, won’t I slape in the 
 two-bedded room ?— from the window— by the parapet. Caleb, 
 the boot-jack, {sharply) ’ 
 
 Caleb, {starting) The — the — the — boo — boo — jac 
 
 Macr. The boot-ja(‘k, dolt ! sure can’t you see I’ve my old 
 vertigo coming on, and won’t I get to bed at once ? and shan’t 
 you slape awake to watch me all night ? 
 
 Caleb. Vhot vithout my supper ? 
 
 Macr. (R. c.) Sup at breakfast, you most unfalin’ of sar- 
 vants ! Ho, young man ! {to Jack, who is coming down, L.) Is 
 the empty two-bedded room occupied above ? 
 
 Jack, (l.) No, sure ; does your honour know that chamber? 
 Macr. Perfectly I it will do for me and my man — if I find 
 rnyself better, it’s lie down he shall, on t’other bed ; faith, it’s 
 always consideration 1 like to show to a domestic, tho’ he be 
 ever so undesarying. Good night, gentlemen. Come alona-, 
 sirrah . it s my indulgence what ruins you intirely, and thaPs 
 what all may see. 
 
 C.4LEB. But, really, I wants mv 
 
 Macr. {showing pistol) Here it is. 
 
 Caleb. But 1 don’t like cold supper. 
 
 Jack There’s Sally will light vour honour to bed— she be 
 waiting for ye at foot o’ stairs. Exit Caleb and Macraisy l. 
 Jack. Shall I clear the table, gentlemen? ’ 
 
 Dozey. By all means. 
 
 Jack. Here, Bob, come and help to clear the table. 
 
 Enter Servant, r., wht) helps him to clear, 
 
 ' M candle) Missus bid me light a fire 
 
 in the little back parlour, where gentlemen smokes and drinks 
 mixed liquors ; mayhap, gentlemen, you’d like to sit there, ’tis 
 much snugger ; besides we expects a small body of soldiers 
 and a bagpge waggon, to stop at the inn in the course of 
 ot the night, and they generally comes into this here room to 
 drink a bit. Shall I show you into the little back parlour 
 gentlemen, no interruption there, {retires a little} crossinq , r.) ’ 
 Dozey. (c. down a little) Yaw ! lead the way, boy, and 
 Rodpole, we 11 examine those deeds by ourselves, eh ? {whisper- 
 '■ng) Not a word about the flaw in the title — mum ! 
 
 Rod. (r. c.) No, no, I’m as mute as a measuring pole. Over 
 i bowl of punch we’ll settle it by mensuration. 
 
 Jack, (doim, r.) I’ve made all so comfortable and warm— 
 ■nd sich a raw night outside ; I know’d your honours wouldn’t 
 orget Boots, afore you went away ; he, he, he ! (t/icy give money) 
 
 B 
 
14 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 he, he, he ! This way, gentlemen, (sheios 
 
 Thankye, thankye 
 them outj R. 
 
 Scene -FovKrn.— Lights half down. Outside of Farmer Nelsofs 
 Cottage, R. 1 E. m a Lane ; night — a gentle storm lightning 
 c£’C., grooves. 
 
 Enter Corporal Sabre, Sergeant Sam, and Six Soldiers, l. 
 
 Serg. Eyes right. Corporal, stand at ease and reconnoitre : 
 plague take this dark night ! the baggage waggon has turned 
 out of the Oxford road into some lane— what the devil s to be 
 
 done ? . 
 
 CoRP. Here’s a cottage, or a pigstye. 
 
 Serg. Fire a salute at the door, and if they won t open to 
 
 the enemy, commence an attack. • i i /t* a • \ t Rr.o-r 
 
 CoRP. {knocking) Hillo ! house, house 1 ho ! {listening) I hear 
 
 somebody stirring. 
 
 Serg. Discharge another volley . 
 
 CoRP. {knocking) Hillo ! ho ! within there . 
 
 Enter Farmer Nelson from cottage, r. 1 e. 
 
 Farm. Who’s there ? If ye be highwaymen, this is not the, 
 house-move on, 1 pray; content is the only wealth under 
 these rafters, that you cannot rob us ot. _ , 
 
 CoRP Is the old fool dreaming f Highwaymen ! see you^ 
 not that we are soldiers of the king? We’ve lost our way in 
 the storm — come you and set us right. 
 
 Farm. Most willingly; I crave yourpardon. 
 
 CoRP. ’Tis a shame, Sam, that these highwaymen should 
 
 cast such a reflection on gentlemen of our cloth. , 
 
 Serg. A shame that they are not all hung up to whiten 
 like belts on a pipeclay day. Pray, old gentleman, which is th^ 
 way to Oxford ? j 
 
 Farm. Oxford! ^ ^ 
 
 CoRP. Yes, we’ve missed the road ; don t you see the waggoi, 
 sticking in the lane ? — this is not the high road, sure . j 
 
 Farm. No, and if it be to Oxford you are marching, I speecj 
 that way myself in the morning early.— It matters little, 1 1 
 e’en there to-night and be your guide ; these 'anes are dark 
 and dangerous, and full of windings as a labyrinth I wil 
 procure a light and on before, {exit into cottage, and return. 
 
 immediately with lantern locks dooi.) j ju •+v, L,.ot7i 
 
 CoRP. That’s a good soul ! you shall rewarded be with bravi 
 
 refreshments at the “ George Inn.” , r. r ;i i ’t; 
 
 Farm The “ George Inn ! the Inn on the Oxford r(»d . Ti 
 
 thever^ousel’mgoLgto. The landlord JonaJanBra^ 
 is my son-in-law, and to-morrow is my daughtei s twentiet 
 birth-day. They are a happy, thriving, honest couple— she i 
 
JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 15 
 
 Sc. 5.] 
 
 my only child, of six, remaining — the very image of her poor 
 dear mother ! When I look on her, and see her sweet face lit up 
 with happiness, and the innocent children climbing my knees, it 
 seems as though the features of the gone, did through their eyes 
 beam forth ; then I forget what a desolate old man I am, and — 
 But I beg pardon ! {crosses to L.) If you’re not a father, you’ll 
 find better excuses for me, Mr. Soldier, at the inn on the Ox- 
 ford road. {Mmlc — they exeunt^ L. 
 
 Scene Fifth. — Exterior of the Inn^ divided into Four Apart- 
 ments. {No. 1) A Two Bedded Room, with window opening 
 to a tiled roof. One Bed or sofa {practicable) the other just 
 on ; a chair, L. ; table near bed, with a written newspaper on it, 
 {No, 2) A One Bedded Room, with a window opening to the 
 same tiled roof; table, R., and chair. {No. 3) Little Bach 
 Parlour; table and two chairs in centre seen through the window. 
 {No. 4) The Bar seen through window — punch bowl — glass of 
 brandy and water, &c., on bar; in centre of all a door, and 
 sign of the “ George Inn."''' 
 
 Enter Jonathan Bradford, with lantern, and Mr. Hayes, r. 
 
 Music. 
 
 Hayes. Thanks, landlord, thanks ! ’tis ever thus my maxim 
 to visit my, horse ere I retire to sleep. 
 
 Brad. An excellent rule. I would ’twere more adopted ; 
 but some are too apt to forget in self enjoyment the duty that 
 belongs to others, even of their own species. 
 
 Hayes. What o’clock is it? 
 
 Brad. Just past eleven, sir. 
 
 Hayes. My watch is broken — most unfortunately, and will 
 not go ! What shall I do to-morrow, when most I need its 
 service ? 
 
 Brad. We have a watchmaker half a mile from hence — shall 
 I send the watch to him early in the morning ? ’Twill be back 
 ere noon. 
 
 Hayes, {gives watch) I pray you do so ; and now to bed — 
 but bring me, ere I sleep, a tankard of canary and spring water 
 — I am feverish. 
 
 Brad. I’ll place it on your table, sir. Take care of the step. 
 
 Enters the house by door, i) . 
 
 Enter Ann, No. 4, with candle, arranges room, c5c. 
 
 Ann. To-morrow my dear father will arrive. How happy 1 
 am he so approves of Jonathan. 
 
 Dan's Room 
 
 ,(i) 
 
 Mr. Hayes's Room, (2) 
 Bar, (4) 
 
 R. 
 
 Parlour, (3) 
 
 L. 
 
JONATHAN BRADFOED. 
 
 16 
 
 [Act. L 
 
 Enter Jack, showing in Dozey and Eodpole, into No. 3 — they 
 sit — Jack^?^^s candle on table. 
 
 Dozey. (r. of table) There, now go along and shut the door. 
 Rod. And tell your master we must have the punch directly. 
 Jack. Aye, aye, your honours. Exit l., into the bar, 
 
 Dozey. Here are the papers. 
 
 Ann. My father said he could never endure children as he 
 had endured his own ; but our little Jane — so like my mother — 
 he quite spoils that child — ha, ha ! 
 
 (Jonathan mixing punch at the bar — Jack waiting) 
 
 Enter vnth candle.^ shewing in Macraisy and Caleb, into 
 
 No. i, R. 
 
 Sally. Would you like your beds warmed, sirs? 
 
 Macra. Nothing but a glass of brandy and water. 
 
 Caleb. And a little tiny bit of sugar from them lips of 
 
 Goes to kiss her^ she slaps his face and exits ^ R. ' 
 Macra. That’s just bekays you don’t mind your manners, 
 and it sarves you right, {sits in his chair and takes off neckcloth ) , 
 Ann. Here comes the gentleman. Eodt L. ‘ 
 
 Enter Jack, No. 3, L. 
 
 Jack. Here’s the punch, your honours. ! 
 
 Dozey. Place it on the table. \ 
 
 3 AGK places punch on table and eodts into bar. "" 
 
 Enter Mr. Hayes, No. 2, r. : 
 
 Hayes. Suddenly I feel with sleep overcome — ■ 
 
 Let me see ; 1 am to give for the estate j 
 
 Eight hundred pounds : trees — out-houses. > 
 
 That will be {counts his fingers and falls asleep) j 
 
 Enter Jack, No. 1, R. i 
 
 Jack. Here’s the brandy and water. 
 
 Macra. Faith ! it’s a brave lad you are; good night, jewel, j 
 
 Exit Jack, r. ^ 
 
 Caleb, just open the casement, and see what manner of night it 
 is outside. 
 
 Caleb, {opens window) 0 dear ! there’s a tom cat ! 
 
 Macra. {produces vial) My ould schame — a drap o’ lauda- 
 num — when I don’t want dat fool to be awake — at all, at all. 
 {empties vial into brandy and water) Oh, oh ! {affecting spasms) ^ 
 Caleb, (r.) Vy, vot’s the matter now? 
 
 Macra. Cold shivering! there’s my coat! there’s — Oh! l| 
 can’t bear it — one of my tits — cover me up warm, warm ! ■ 
 
 071 sofa— Caleb covers him up) 
 
 
JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 17 
 
 Sc. 5.] 
 
 Caleb, (crosses to table, l.) Yon’t you drink your nice brandy 
 and vater ? 
 
 Macka. No, no; drink it you — don’t disturb me. 
 
 Caleb, (sitting down in chair) I von’t, you may depend on’t. 
 How generous ; all the brandy and vater mine ! Yen he snores 
 I’ll steal down and get a bit o’ supper— a Yelsh rabbit. AVhat’s 
 this —a Lunnon newspaper ? von’t 1 read it. (takes newspaper 
 and sits reading) 
 
 Enter Jonathan, into No. 2, l., with a tankard of canary, a 
 leino7i and knife on a tray. Ann and Sally hmy in bar, (No. 4) 
 
 Brad. My good guest asleep! I’ll not disturb him; but 
 place on this table the canary and water. He said not whether 
 he should like lemon — no matter, the lemon too I’ll leave, and 
 this knife — he’ll wake and serve himself softly ! Retires, l. 
 
 Ann. (to Sally, in bar) Go to bed, Sally : the children must 
 not remain longer alone, and you must rise early ; Mr. Hayes 
 will require his breakfast. 
 
 Sally. Good night, missus. Exit, l. 
 
 (Ann and Jonathan busy at bar — Dozey asleep, and 
 Rodpole drinking and examing papers) 
 
 Caleb, (reading and sipping) I must look for my friends. 
 (reads) Old Bailey,” — that’s not it — “ The Parliament will 
 dissemble on the 21st, to take into consideration a young woman 
 out of place.” Plague take it, I’ve lost the place. Yaw 1 vot’s 
 this ? “ If the young man vot ran away from his apprenticeship, 
 
 in Seven Dials ” Yy, that’s me ! “If the young man vot 
 
 ran — vill return to his unhappy parents — his unhappy ” Ha, 
 
 ha, ha ! “ He will be received with hopen harms, and his mis- 
 conduct overlooked by his master, the watchmaker, who has 
 vound up the affair with the young man’s unappiest of mothers. 
 He will be allowed to sugar his own tea, and butter his toast 
 on both sides.” Here’s news! won’t I be hoff ! won’t I ; but 
 I mustn’t let him hear me, nor the pistol neither, or that’ll be 
 going hoff also ! (Macraisy snores) He’s as fast asleep as a vatch, 
 vot hasn’t been vound up for a veek, I vonder if his pistol’s 
 asleep too ? Here’s to my old mother — (drinks) She’s a good 
 ’un — she is. (looking at paper) “ If the young man vot — ha — — 
 yaw! he, he, he! I’m a falling into a doze, with not having 
 nothing to eat since dinner. “ If the young willain !” No, no ; 
 if the young man — the — I’m going — yes — he going to — yaw ! 
 (falls asleep — music — Macraisy appears watching him, 
 gets cautiously up — surveys Caleb’s features — opens the 
 window and is getting out, when Caleb exclaims, asleep, 
 
 “ If the young man vot ran avay ” Macraisy starts, 
 
 recoils, looks at Caleb, exults, and gets out of the window 
 ' — a flash of lightning) 
 
18 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Jack comes from the door^ c., with a lantern in his hand. 
 
 Jack. Hang that there baggage waggon! I wishes ’twere 
 stickt in some clay pit; the horse dragons too, — vot for be 
 they obligated to travel i’ the night ? now must I go and bundle 
 down so many trusses o’ hay, and so many pecks o’ oats, just 
 because — and 1 can’t get to Sally. I — that’s the window, Sally ! 
 Sally ! {going, L.) 
 
 Enter Jonathan at c.door. 
 
 Brad. Jack, to the stable — the soldiers will be here in a few 
 minutes. What are you going after there ? 
 
 Jack, {returning to R.) Going to go back again, master. 
 {aside) Who would be Boots, I wonder ? 
 
 Exit, R., whistling — thunder and lightning. 
 
 Brad. ’Tis a rough, dark night. I hope the waggon may 
 not mistake the road ! no, I think I hear the sound of horses’ 
 feet. Ann ! Ann ! 
 
 Re-enters house — seen busy and Ann also in bar — clocJc strikes . 
 twelve to music. 
 
 Hayes, {starting) Twelve o’clock ! have I been sleeping all | 
 this time? Oh, here’s the canary and water, {drinks) Now' 
 to place the cash on this table. The money is quite safe — 
 (Macraisy at window) yes ; these guineas are all right : one, j 
 two, three. Hold ! I shall disturb the sleepers — I’ll leave the 
 purse on the table, and since it is so late, and I have to rise so 
 early. I’ll even rest myself, in this chair, as I am. {goes to sleep) . 
 
 Music. — Flash of lightning shows Dan getting in at window , 
 — he cautiously enters — blows out light, and endeavours to . 
 steal purse — Hayes starts up, and Dan seizes him by the \ 
 throat) { 
 
 Hayes. Who is there? What hand grasps my throat ?| 
 Landlord ! villain ! (Macraisy finds the purse and is escaping, « 
 when finds knife and seizes him) Plunderer ! my money, ^ 
 
 or this knife ! : 
 
 Macra. Knife! in my own defence then, (mw-s/c — inthe struggle' 
 the purse falls, and Macraisy gets possession of the knife and 
 
 Hayes, who falls with a groan) Divil! where’s the purse? 
 {searching — HAYEs/a^/^% calling ‘‘ help !” “ murder !”) 
 
 Brad, {during the above) Hark, wife ! what scuffle is that ? 
 Mr. Hayes’ voice ! a light, wife 1 quick ! this way, wife ! 
 
 Exeunt L., with Ann, who carries the candle. 
 
 Macra. Ah, detected! (as he hurries out of window, a broad 
 flash of lightning) 
 
 Rod. Lawyer, awake — a cry of murder ! This way 
 
 Exeunt, R. 
 
Sc. 5.1 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 19 
 
 Enter Jonathan and Ann, l. — N o. 2. 
 
 Brad. Great heaven — Mr. Hayes murdered! This knife 
 stained with blood — this purse upon the ground — horror ! 
 {picking them up) 
 
 Hayes, {recovering) A light — ah! my purse — that knife in 
 his hands I — -my assassin then — he — pardon {dies) 
 
 Brad, {wildly) This purse — this knife — in my hands! What 
 dreadful words — distraction — wife ! 
 
 Ann. Husband! 
 
 Brad. Who has done this ? 
 
 Enter Dozey and Kodpole, into room No. 2. 
 
 Dozey. You villain, you ! He said it — you ! 
 
 ^ Brad. Let me go into the air ! my brain burns ! He, with 
 his dying lips — what has he said ? Help — justice — justice ! 
 
 Rushes out^ L. — Music. 
 
 Ann. Jonathan! Jonathan! 
 
 Dozey. Monster! you escape us not. Exeunt^ i.. 
 
 Music continues, while Macraisy enters No. 1, through window^ 
 ^ exults, and wakes Caleb. 
 
 Macra. Up, up, fool ! 
 
 Caleb. What’s the matter ? 
 
 Macra. Murder’s the matter ! Listen, follow ! 
 
 Caleb. Murder! Oh, dear! Am I murdered? Exeunt,^. 
 
 Music. — Enter Jack, lighting in Farmer Nelson, Corporal, 
 Sergeant, and six Soldiers, r. 
 
 F ARMER. ’Tis a cold night, gentlemen ; but a comfortable 
 welcome waits within. I’ll warrant. 
 
 {cries within — “ Villain ! Murderer ! ”) 
 j Farmer. Murderer! Who is he? (Jonathan rushes out of 
 door, followed hy Ann) 
 
 Brad. I am he : at least they say so — he Am 1 a mur- 
 
 derer, Ann ? am I, eh ? 
 
 Ann. {clinging to him) No, no, no ! 
 
 Dozey entering c., down, L. 
 
 Dozey. I say yes ! As a magistrate, I bid you, soldiers, to 
 your arms — let not that man nor woman either escape. Mr. 
 Hayes, who slept last night in the room above the bar, has 
 been robbed and murdered ! We detected that man and that 
 ^voman in his chamber— the blood-stained knife— the purse in 
 lis hands— this watch too, I took from Bradford’s pocket : it 
 vas Mr. Hayes’s— the dying man himself affirmed Bradford the 
 •nurderer. Let him not escape ! 
 
20 JONATHAN BRADFORD. [ACT t 
 
 Brad. Oh^ wife, wife ! what terrible doom overwhelms uf 
 Lost, lost, lost ! 
 
 Ann. Husband — father— my poor children ! 
 
 Farm. This is some horrible illusion, son ! 
 
 Brad. Innocent ! 
 
 Ann. Oh, my children ! 
 
 M'usie — the Soldiers present their muskets — Jonathai 
 Ann, Farmer Nelson, Sally and Jack, forming 
 group in the centre — Eodpole and Dozey at ij.^pointin 
 to Jonathan — Macraisy at window of little Parlor 
 No. 3, ivatching during the whole of the Scene. Thundi 
 and lightnmg. 
 
 end of act first. 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Scene First. — Interior of Nelson's Cottage. 
 
 Elder Sally, r. ; 
 
 Sally. Heigho ! I wasn’t miserable enough before, but 
 these shocking things must happen to render my life aburthe 
 to me. My poor master ! my dear missus ! both condemned f«i 
 the murder of Mr. Hayes. But I’ll never believe as they a? 
 culpable — it’s unpossible ! He, so civil, so good-natured ! sh 
 I never seed her hurt a fly ! The aged father, too ! — at h 
 time of life — ’tis crazy and childish quite he’s getting. The 
 those dear children — my heart’s ready to break when I lool 
 at ’em. I’m sure I wishes Jack would return from the villag 
 for I’m just as if I seed Mr. Hayes’s ghost at every corner < 
 
 the room. { 
 
 i 
 
 Enter Jack, l. I 
 
 Ugh ! what’s that ? ;; 
 
 Jack. Don’t thee go to be frightful, Sally — it be only I. • 
 
 Sally. I be main glad thee be cum’d back again ! I, a lot 
 woman. 
 
 Jack. It’s summat to be glad at anything, as this wicke 
 world goes, Sally. But how’s old master now ? 
 
 Sally. I do believe that he be running mad, he do look j 
 horrid wild. He came in about an hour since and did put h 
 fingers about little Jane’s throat, and stared so oddly, I thougl 
 he wur going to strangle the child ; and when I screamed, I 
 called me Ann, and fell a crying ; and now he is in the gardei 
 talking to the trees as if they were rational creters. Loo 
 how he walks up and down — his white hair streaming in tl 
 
JONATHAN BRADFOKD. 
 
 21 
 
 Sc. 1.] 
 
 wind, and his arms swinging to and fro, for all the world as if 
 he was going to spring over the rose hedge ! 
 
 Jack. Oh, Sally, how will I ever be able to tell him the ill 
 news I do bring from the village ? 
 
 Sally. What news ? 
 
 Jack. Our poor master and missus have been brought there ; 
 they are in the strong room. I have seen ’em — spoken wi’ ’em. 
 
 Sally. You ! How are they? how do they look? what did 
 they say. 
 
 Jack. They are very ill, Sally — sadly and pale they do look ; 
 and they did send me for to bring them old master and the two 
 children, that they might bid ’em good bye for the last time ! 
 
 Sally. And still they say that they be innocent ? 
 
 Jack. Yes, both ; though few, I fear, believe it. The knife, 
 the watch, the sending of you and I out of the way that night — 
 ail — I shall never dare to pass the heath again after sunset ; 
 yet I don’t think measter’s ghost would follow me. It wasn’t 
 my fault if my evidence did serve to criminate him. I 
 would give my life, now to save him. 
 
 Sally. But why afraid to cross the heath ? 
 
 Jack. Because he’s to be hanged in chains there — on the 
 green hill, about half a mile from the inn. 
 
 Sally. 0, mercy on me! poor Mr. Nelson; you may see 
 the hill from that very window. I shall never dare to tell him 
 a single word. 
 
 Enter Farmer Nelson, r .— face pale— Ms looks wild~he 
 crosses to the centre ; a Child follows him on, and goes to Sally. 
 
 Farm. I want no telling — I know it all! — all ! The wind 
 whistles it in mine ear as I pass. Your son — your daughter — 
 murderer ! murderess ! But then 1 hear an angel, with a sweet 
 soft voice, sometimes murmuring innocent ! innocent ! innocent I 
 .That’s consoling ! that’s comfort ! How my heart aches ! 
 
 I {crosses to L.) 
 
 ! Jack. What can we say to him ? 
 
 Farm. Ann ! Ann ! {crosses to c.) Give me a draught of 
 water, Ann. No — I forgot — she is no longer here. My child ! 
 my daughter ! they have torn her from me ! They have peeled 
 off the green ivy from the old winter tree, and left it in its 
 snow, desolate alone ! Who are you ? 
 
 |. Sally. Lawks, master ! don’t you know me ? 
 
 J Farm. Not I — I know nothing — nobody ! The world is all 
 illusion — all deception — cruelty — craft — cunning — wicked- 
 ness ! Friends smile in your face, you think them angels ; 
 tear off the vizor — what are they ? Demons ! demons thirst- 
 ! iig for your heart’s best blood — even your children ! Oh, 
 [misery ! He ! She ! {the Child runs to him) 
 
22 JONATHAN BRADFORD. [ACT 2. 
 
 Child, {crying) Grandfather, I want my mother. Where 
 is she ? 
 
 Farm, {shuddering) Ugh ! hence, accursed one ! or {thi 
 
 Child recoils) Stay — stay — I’ll not harm thee, darling. Come 
 nearer — close — closer to my heart, {the Child slowly goes to 
 him, as if afraid) Let me look on thy face. Those meek blue 
 eyes — such were thy mother’s — sparkling full of joy ! Just 
 such a rosy beauteous child was she. Oh, heavens ! I re- 
 member well the summer morning, when on the grass there ir 
 the flower garden, her first step was made ,* how I rejoiced — 
 how proud my poor wife was ! Alas ! alas ! but those were 
 happy days ! 
 
 Sally. Dear master ! 
 
 Farm. Say nothing — tell nobody! It’s a shame for an ole 
 man to weep —but I am better now. Come, child, come ; I’l 
 take thee to thy mother. Come, come, come ! {takes the Chili 
 imder his right arm, and hurries off, L.) 
 
 Jack. Kind master I kind missus ! I be young and can eari 
 money by labour, and never shall a morsel pass my lips that 
 the dear children do not share. I’ll follow him — you brin^ 
 the other child. Exit, D 
 
 Sally. I will — I will 1 I have nursed them from theii 
 cradles ; I love them as if they were my own, and now thej | 
 are unfortunate I love them ten times dearer. There the poo; 
 dear is fast asleep — {pointing off, R.) — pity it should eve? 
 wake. Yet why should I say that ? ’Tis true that there b^ 
 one above who watches and gives crumbs to the sparrow : anc 
 it cannot be that He will turn his face away from innocenc' 
 like this — no, no, no ! 
 
 Exit, R., as if to fetch the Child from the cradle to follou 
 Farmer Nelson. • 
 
 { 
 
 Scene Second. — The Strong Room in the village. Table 4 
 l. c. Chair or stool, R. C. Lights down. ! 
 
 Jonathan discovered. 1 
 
 Brad. How rapidly time’s wheel runs on ; ‘ 
 
 To-day condemn’d, to-morrow executed ! 
 
 So it is — so will be. Well, all must perish ; 
 
 Yes ; all created things : and why then fear ? 
 
 Why then repine ? {pause) But my wife ! 
 
 Why did I think of that, which drags me back again 
 And plies the torturing lever to my heart. 
 
 Breaking hope’s last sinew? Death, death, where art thou 
 
 Enter Sergeant Sam. 
 
 Serg. Thy wife. 
 
 Exit, I 
 
Sc. 2.] 
 
 JONATHAN BKADFORD. 
 
 23 
 
 Enter Ann, l. 
 
 Brad. Ann ! 
 
 Ann. J onathan ! {they embrace) 
 
 Brad. This one embrace repays for all my anguish ; 
 
 All that I have suffer’d — all that I can suffer. 
 
 Ann. And I — oh, now I feel quite happy ! 
 
 To be near thee, to press thy hand — to hear thy voice. 
 The worst is past — they will not part us again. 
 
 ’Twill comfort me, at the close of life’s short journey 
 To look thus into thy face, {gazing) Oh, heavens ! thou’rt 
 much chang’d ! 
 
 Brad. And thou also, Ann. 
 
 Ann. Both — with sorrow, not with guilt. No, no, — 
 
 Not v/ith guilt ! 
 
 Brad. I thank thee for that word. 
 
 Ann, dost thou fear much to die? 
 
 Ann. I am prepared. I die with thee — innocent. 
 
 Brad. And to suffer ignominy ? 
 
 Ann. {devoutly) ’Tis heaven’s will ! 
 
 Brad. The pang ! oh, heaven ! the pang ! 
 
 Ann. ’Tis heaven’s will ! 
 
 Brad. Ah, Ann ! was it not enough, myself. 
 
 But thou 
 
 Ann. No more — no more ! It is His will ! 
 
 We must forego all — forgive all — 
 
 Even the true murderer, for whom we suffer ! 
 
 Who he is — what he is — alas, we know not — 
 
 His crime, though heaped on us, we must forgive. 
 
 Brad. My wife, thou dost teach me what I ought to be. 
 
 And sham’st my manhood with thy pure fortitude. 
 
 Hence with the world — we ll talk of heaven only. 
 
 The land of promise — 
 
 Where the storm beats not ; where the sky, unclouded. 
 Shines ever on a calmness like its own. 
 
 Ann. ’Tis a sweet picture ! Would we were there, my husband. 
 Else long I cannot bar the doors of memory. 
 
 1 am as the lark, that vaults and vaults, 
 
 Kesolving still to go— still coming back again. 
 
 To its wild nest, and the dear fledglings left 
 Without its care. 
 
 Brad. Our children ! 
 
 Ann. Aye, our helpless children ! that’s the link 
 That fetters me. Once I saw them, ill. 
 
 Both — I thought them dying — how I wept, repined ; 
 
 It was wicked. I am punished now, Jonathan. 
 
 I am their mother, yet I’d have them there — 
 
 {'pointing to the. earth) 
 
24 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 That in these arms I might entwine them, so, 
 
 And bear them up to heaven. They must remain, (mourn- 
 fully) 
 
 Brad. ’Tis heaven’s will ! 
 
 Ann. Poor orphans! here, despised, defenceless ! 
 
 Brad. ’Tis heaven’s will ! 
 
 Ann. a mother I I did forget ! 
 
 Brad. ’Twas natural. 
 
 Ann. I am myself again. 
 
 Enter Farmer Nelson, l., with the two Children — Ann clasps 
 them with a wild and frantic scream. 
 
 Oh ! Ha, ha, ha ! {on her knees) 
 
 Brad. Father ! 
 
 Farm, {crosses to him) Son I {shaking hands) 
 
 Ann. Why, what a rosy cheek is this — a red, sweet lip ! 
 
 And this, too, my young spring bud. {kissing it) 
 
 Look at them, Jonathan — kiss them ! 
 
 Brad. I do, Ann, for the last time, {kissing them) 
 
 0 ! in this kissing would my heart could burst I 
 Child, (r. of Ann) Dear mother, why don’t you come home ? ' 
 Ann. Home ! I — 1 will, soon. ; 
 
 Child, {gets to l. of Ann, and takes her gown and pulls it to- , 
 wards L.) Soon ! why not now — now ? 
 
 Ann. How shall I tell it them — how will they understand ? 
 Home ! where is their home ? no mother’s voice. 
 
 No father’s admonition ! Outcasts — abject — 
 
 Branded with the name of infamy. 
 
 Shunned — degraded ! Oh, my children, my children ! 
 What will become of them ? {wringing her hands) 
 
 Farm, {coming down^ L.) Ann ! ; 
 
 As to thee I was a father, so I to them, ' 
 
 But I am old and feeble, and my years j 
 
 Are numbered short ; the grave is my home — i 
 
 There shall they rest with me, as the young flowers \ 
 
 Are strewn upon the corse. In the cold earth J 
 
 We’ll hide ourselves ; buried deep —deep 
 As shame and misery can dig. ; 
 
 Ann. Father I alas, how wild he looks ! 
 
 Oh, father, speak to me I it is your daughter Ann — 
 
 Your only daughter — don’t you know me, father ? 
 
 No reply ! Give me your blessing, father I Father, 
 
 Your blessing ! {kneeling) Your blessing ! 
 
 Farm, {raising her quickly) Blessing ! era vest thou a bless- 
 ing of the mildew. 
 
 Whose office ’tis to blight the golden corn. 
 
 And ere the sickle of the lutsbandman 
 
JONATHAN BRADFOED. 
 
 25 
 
 Sc. 2.] 
 
 Can gather it healthful to his garner home, 
 
 Pound it into black ashes ! 
 
 Ann. Father ! 
 
 Farm. Unhand me ! ’tis not ye are guilty. 
 
 1 am leprous ! contagious ; 
 
 All I loved have withered, one by one — 
 
 Wife ! children ! kindred ! and you the last ! 
 
 Let me begone ! 
 
 Bradford all this while is utterly ahsorhed in grief at the 
 tahle^ not noticing what is going forward] he comes 
 , down^ R. 
 
 On those children never to gaze again. 
 
 There are roses on their cheeks — the canker 
 Of this brow shall never blight them. 
 
 As let me be gone — I know myself — I — 
 
 Let me be gone ! Rushes out^ L. 
 
 Enter Sergeant, l. 
 
 Ann. Misery can no further. 
 
 The picture is too terrible! (covering her face with her hands) 
 Brad. (r. to Sergeant) Take them away in silence ! — (crosses 
 to Children) • 
 
 God bless ye ! go ! go I 
 Child, (as it reaches the wing) Mother I 
 
 Ann. (recovering^ crosses to Children) That thrillmg voice ! 
 My children ! 
 
 Separate us ! never ! I will not — I will not ! 
 
 No ! no! no! (the Children are led off— falls senseless 
 into Bradford’s arms) 
 
 Brad. Oh, that those eyes could open only in a better world ! 
 My wife ! my wdfe ! for thee I suffer ! 
 
 Enter Sergeant, l., with a paper. 
 
 Serg. Good news, Master Bradford ! here’s a reprieve for 
 your wife. 
 
 Brad. A reprieve for my wife ! then I am content. My 
 children will not weep in vain for their mother. Ann — Ann, 
 
 here is good news ! a reprieve 
 
 Ann. (recovering j and eagerly) For thee ? 
 
 Brad. No, better— for thee ! 
 
 Ann. ril not accept it ! no, we’ll die together — 
 
 I’ll not survive thee ! I cannot survive thee ! 
 
 We will die — yes — the judge said it — 
 
 Together — together ! 
 
 Brad. Ann, if you would not add to my regrets. 
 
 Forget not you are a mother— our children. 
 
 Go, wife, go ! Wipe the tears from their young eyes. 
 When the world mocks them, tell them, thou, how innocent 
 : c 
 
26 JONATHAN BRADFORD. [AcT 2. 
 
 Their father was. Is it nothing thou art spar’d for that? 
 Go, Ann — I know thoul’t not forget me. 
 
 And I — if those who watch above 
 May linger near to frail humanity — 
 
 Thou understand’st — {hissing her) Bless thee — ^go ! 
 
 Ann. No, no ! 
 
 Child, {without) Mother, mother ! 
 
 Brad. Ah— listen ! 
 
 Ann. My little ones ! 
 
 Brad. They call thee, Ann ; let them not call thee unnatural. 
 To die with me were vain, to live for them is noble. 
 
 Go — ’tis my last command ! 
 
 Child, {entering, \u.) Mother, mother ! 
 
 Ann. Husband ! child ! support me nature ! 
 
 Death to this were easy. Divide, my heart— 
 
 Half here, half there ! Oh, agony, agony ! 
 
 But no — but no — I — Jonathan 
 
 She attempts to return to Jonathan, hut sinhs exhausted w 
 the Sergeant’s arms, the Child clinging to her, on he% 
 R. and exclaiming, ‘‘ Mother !” They exeunt, L., one 
 Jonathan Bradford is left on his knees in silent agony 
 Brad. Now, but one more effort to die ! ; 
 
 She is spared ! I’ll not dare to murmur, , 
 
 But here sit down in silent meditation, 
 
 And think no more of earth, {noise) 
 
 Hark ! what’s that ? . . . i 
 
 Jack, {putting his head through the hole in the ceiling on th 
 R.) Master ! 
 
 Brad. Who calls ? 
 
 Jack. Are you quite alone ? 
 
 Brad. Yes, entirely. 
 
 Jack, {putting a rope through thehole) ’Tis I, Jack. I crep' 
 all along the roofs of the houses — nobody could see me — witl[ 
 the hay-knife I cut this hole through the thatch. Masteit 
 here’s a rope ! Haste, escape ! ^ { 
 
 Brad. Escape! No, no, no — I’m innocent ! 
 
 Jack. Master, if you’re ever so innocent they’ll hang you i^ 
 the morning. If you could but conceal yourself among th; 
 tombs for a while, the true murderer may yet be brought t( 
 light. Think, master, you may then return to the inn to m] 
 poor missus — to the dear children ! 
 
 Brad. Heaven speaks in the voice of this honest lad ; yes — 
 Time might be gained to prove my innocence. 
 
 My wife— my children ! I will — I will escape. 
 
 A still voice whispers to my soul. 
 
 Freedom ! innocence 1 Yes, I obey its dictates ! 
 
 Music. — Places the stool beneath the rope, and begin 
 climbing as the scene closes. 
 
27 
 
 Sc. 3.] JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 Scene Third. — Outside of a Church. A printed hill posted 
 on the door, A vault open on l. 
 
 Enter Caleb, r., attired as a Ratcatcher — a belt with painted 
 
 rats round him— followed by Dan Macraisy, in tatters ; a 
 
 box on his back with “ Ferrets” inscribed thereon. 
 
 Caleb. Here’s a pretty set out ! I disguised as a ugly 
 : ratcatcher, just to serve your purpose ; because you like to 
 j travel incog, as you say. I tells you I’m hadwertised for ; 
 
 I master’s furguve me, and I vishes to dissolve partnership with 
 I your firm, and go home to Seven Dials. 
 
 Macra. Sure, is it an ungrateful scoundrel you are ? after 
 I all my lessons not one clever trick have you played — not so 
 I much as dacently picked a pocket. How are you to pay me 
 1 for your board and eddication I’d like to know ? 
 
 I Caleb. Board ! I’m literally starved. A hempty watch- 
 j case has more inside nor I. Besides, I don’t like the dishonest 
 fwagabone sort of life you vishes me to lead. 
 
 Macra. That’s it. Haven’t I consulted your taste ? set 
 you up in a respectable profession— made you a gentleman rat- 
 catcher. 
 
 Caleb. Oh, if they could but see me at Seven Dials. I 
 doesn’t like rat-catching. I can’t catch no rats— I’m afeard of 
 ’em ; they knows it, and sits and laughs at me. 
 
 Macra. I’ll tell what it is, darling— you know of my break- 
 ing into the farm-house last week, in which you had not the 
 courage to join me, though may be, you’d find courage enough 
 to peach; but that won’t do— you and I don’t part partnership 
 so ! No, if you attempt to leave me without my permission 
 at all, at all. I’ll send a brace of ferrets after you that shall lay 
 you as nately by the heels as if you were stuck in a bog, hoofs 
 upermost. It isn’t over useful you’ve been, you dirty dis- 
 agreeable devil ; but it’s likely I’ll turn you to account. ^ You 
 can read newspapers, and demlike palavers can’t you ? and as 
 larning’s one of dem effeminate superfluities that I despises, 
 beyond signing my own name— a jintleman should know how 
 to sign his own name— jist rade me all the small print in that 
 jlackguard bit of a bill, for may be the name spells something 
 /ery like 
 
 Caleb, {reading the bill on the church door) “ Dan Macraisy 
 O'Connor !” Vy that’s you. 
 
 Macra. Or some other jintleman who has been blackguard 
 mough to borrow my name. As I suspected ! Rade, rade !' 
 
 ^ Caleb. They don’t mean me by the alias ^ do they ? Veil 
 l’ 11 read the paper. ‘‘ A hundred pounds reward for the 
 ipprehension of Dan Macraisy, alias O’Connor, alias &c. &q, 
 ^c. who, it is suspected broke into the farm-house of Mr. 
 
28 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFOKD. 
 
 [Act 2 
 
 Brown, of Frogmore, on the night of- ” There — there’ 
 
 your description exactly. HoW will you ever get out of this' 
 Macra. Oh, aisy — shift it on some other fool’s shoulders, I’n 
 thinking. 
 
 Caleb. It is not possible. 
 
 Macra. Wait awhile ago and you shall see it wid your tw* 
 ugly eyes. {Jbeil tolls) Hark ! 
 
 Caleb. It’s the church bell a tolling for the funeral of M 
 Hayes. 
 
 Macra. {agitated) Mr. Hayes ! 
 
 Caleb. Yes — and yonder comes the funeral, {loohing l.) 
 Macra. {starting) This way, come I {crosses to R.) Ha, wha 
 men are those right a-head there? the spalpeens ! 
 
 Caleb. If ever I saw thief-taking hofficers, them’s the ones 
 — Vot can they vant here ? 
 
 Macra. Me they want! sure don’t I know the big black 
 guards. — What’ll I do now ? 
 
 Caleb, {coaxingly^ and crosses to R.) I’ll run and put then 
 on a wrong scent t’other way. 
 
 Macra. {seizing him by the tail of his coat, and turning hir. 
 round, L.j No you don’t faith, dear ! and I’ll not trust ye. It' 
 into this here sort of rabbit’s burrow we’ll be after going ti; 
 the coast is clear, {going to vault door) \ 
 
 Caleb. In there? vy it’s a hold wault! I’m nervous! 
 dares no more go in there than I dares to swallow a screeci 
 owl ! (fell tolls) ? 
 
 IMacra. {presenting a pistol) Nearer comes the funeral tha 
 way — nearer comes the officers this. Quick, quick, or it’s : 
 dead man you’ll be before you get inside the vault, 1 reckof 
 {hell tolls) Ugh 1 that’s an ugly ill-tongued baste of a bell, won’ 
 1 stop up my ears entirely. In — ugh — in ! Exeunt into vault, i 
 
 Scene Fourth. — Interior of the Vault. — In the centre is ^ 
 large Tomb, on the L. of it a broken piece of stone, L. c. f 5 | 
 grated window nearly at top, supposed to be on a level with th 
 earth outside. On each side coffins are piled one above another 
 
 Enter Caleb, l., driven forward by Macraisy. ; 
 Caleb, (l.) This is vorse than the shades in Commoi 
 Garden on a vet day. I sees a nobgoblin in every nook. Wlia 
 — what’s that ? I could have sworn I seed a face peeping fror 
 the old ivy there. 
 
 Macra. Ha, ha, ha ! sure it’s of your own shadow you’ll h 
 after being afraid of next. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Caleb. Now don’t laugh'. 
 
 Macra. Not laugh ! — Why not ? haven’t I just doubled th( 
 gallows-hunters ? — they won’t think of hunting in here, J 
 cMculate. 
 
JONATHAN LEATFORD. 
 
 29 
 
 Sc. 4.}; 
 
 , Caleb, {gravely) Mr. Dan, Mr. Dan ! It’s cotched you’ll 
 be, and hanged for the robbery at Frogmore. I see the gallows 
 above your head, and the rope about your neck, I does ! 
 
 Macra. {laughing) No, sure ! did you ever see dat crature 
 Punch m the puppet-show ; don’t he contrive to stick de neck 
 ot somebody else in de noose instead of his own ? 
 
 Caleb. he, he! that always makes me laugh. Ha, ha, ha! 
 JV^CRA. Faith it s a good joke of Mr. Punch! and won’t I 
 do the same thing ? 
 
 Caleb. How, how, Mr. Dan ? 
 
 I Macra. Sit down here, my darlin, and I’ll convince you in the 
 most illegant manner possible. Take a sate, honey ! — It’s not 
 proud I am. 
 
 Caleb sits on piece of stone^ L. of tomb — Macraisy on it 
 R., using the tomb as a table. 
 
 Macra. Now you see dis bit o’ paper, and dis pen and ink- 
 bottle. {takes them out of his ferret box^ and lays them before 
 Caleb) And am t you a bit of a scholar ? and won’t you wid 
 your own ugly fist, write what I shall tell you, wid your own 
 beautiful hand? 
 
 Caleb. Certainly ; now for it — -I’m quite read}’’. 
 
 Macra. Dat’s well. Date June 17th, year 1736, I do 
 
 CODICSS* 
 
 Caleb. I do — {spelling) — konfiss 
 
 Macra. Dat I alone, did rob the house of Mr, Brown of 
 Frogmore ’ 
 
 Caleb, (aside) going to make a confession to have 
 hmself hanged, that I may get the hundred pounds reward 
 :or his apprehension— that’s an ansome vay of renumerating 
 ne for my trouble. Veil? ^ 
 
 r I a®, that poor 
 
 Jonathan Bradford is going to be executed. I’ve been think- 
 ■ng now, if some solitary, half starved, poor divil of a fellow 
 or whom nobody in the world would grieve at all, at all* 
 7ould confess that he did murder dis Hayes, Jonathan Bradford 
 ind his wife, might be saved intirely. 
 
 Caleb, {aside) Vy he’s going to make a martyr on himself 
 lero ^ Jonathan and his family. What a noble 
 
 Macra. (Caleb writing after him, and mis-spelling the words) 
 Vrite : I did the murder of Mr. Hayes. I stole frL my own 
 asement to his chamber; I stabbed him in the struggle with 
 . knife which lay on the table, and heard footsteps, and fled 
 he way I came ; Jonathan Bradford is innocent — I did it mv- 
 lelf iiitirely. 
 
 Caleb, ^‘Jonathan Bradford is innocent !” with a 
 
 ash- “ I did myself intirely ” Vy, somehow this reads 
 Ixactly like the truth. Vot am I to do next ? 
 
30 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 [Act 2. 
 
 Mack A. {stnrting up) Sign dat paper I 
 
 Caleb« Mercy on us 2 i — I — Mr. Dan ? 
 
 Macra. A^es, darlin ; but it’s marely as a witness^ dat’s all. 
 
 Caleb. If you please I don’t like — “I did it myself 
 intirely” — I dare say indeed, {dropping the pen) I’ve lost the 
 
 Macra. {presenting pistol) A^ou’ve dropped it — there it is — 
 pick it up, and sign instantly. 
 
 Caleb, {falling on his knees) What will become of me? 
 Didn’t some one stir ? 
 
 Macra. Divil! no evasion— sign ! 
 
 Caleb. Veil then, turn away the pistol— I will sign; but 
 the sight of that pistol makes me tremble so ! 
 
 Macra. {turning the jjistol behind him to the R.) Now, villain I 
 or in two minutes, or you are a dead man ! 
 
 rushes from unrig ^ R. 2 E., and seizing the pistol^ turns 
 Dan over to R. 
 
 Brad. You, villain ! you are the dead man ! {picture) 
 
 Caleb. Hurray, hurray, hurray ! 
 
 Macra. Jonathan Bradford here? 
 
 Brad. Yes, monster! that Jonathan Bradford whom yon 
 would have sacrificed : the husband of a wife— the father o^ 
 children, whom you would have plunged into irretrievable 
 infamy ! Heaven hath heard my prayers — heaven hath sent 
 me hither, seeking concealment even in a tomb. To witness 
 for myself; to avenge— to punisli thee ! Not a moment is td 
 be lost ! — Sign that paper ; {heU) murderer 1 listen to the knell 
 of thy victim. If within three strokes of. that awful summons^ 
 you sign not this confession, I swear solemly, a haggard corse 
 —low shall thy body lie— never to rise again, but in eternal 
 flames!— Sign 1 _ • 
 
 Macra. Nay, wasn’t I about to dare you by writing of datj 
 
 same paper? . I 
 
 Brad. Liar and cheat ! do I not know thy motive ? Mhaf 
 availed it whether I, he, or all the world did perish ? so thou 
 mightest be secure, {bell tolls) Twice the bell hath toll’d^ 
 another stroke, and ^ 1 
 
 Macra. There, there, ’tis done ! (signs — bell tolls) But sure 
 it isn’t yourself, Mr. Jonathan Bradford, that’ll be informing 
 ao'ainst a poor divil of a fellow before he can fly de country ? 
 nor you, Mr. Scrummidge ; isn’t it old friends we two be ? 
 
 ^^^Caleb. Old friends ! Old Scratch shall sooner shake me 
 by the hand. Oh, I vishes vot I vos at Seven Dials, iisfe ouji 
 of your clutches ! 
 
 Brad, {to Caleb) Fear nothing, {to Macraisy) For yot 
 I’ll not betray your lurking place— justice, not blood do 
 
JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 31 
 
 Sc. 5.] 
 
 •equiie ! Beware ! the church-yard is thronged by people, 
 •ollowing the body of the murdered Hayes to his grave. 1 go 
 ;o surrender myself : if thou canst, escape, farewell ! — repent ! 
 -ind be assured, that sooner or later guilt is overcome. Away, 
 boy, away ! ^/lustc — Exeunt^ L. 
 
 Macra. Dan ! Dan ! boy, Dan ! what’s come over ye ? your 
 heart’s gone away altogether ! are ye aslape ? Infernal curses 
 on yonder spalpeen ! I’ll follow him— ‘dem papers— -where’s my 
 knife ? here it is, I’ll follow ! my papers, or it’s his heart I’ll 
 rip open ! {music — rushing — hell tolls — the coffin is home hy the 
 grated window, R. L. ; Bearers, Mourners, (&c. ; Dan r^ils) 
 Bowers ! they are bringing hither the body of Hayes : it’s into 
 this vault they are about to deposit it. Sure, shan’t I escape 
 at all? Ah ! (the anthem of the dead is faintly heard ^ above) They 
 are singing the anthem of the dead ! I’ll not hear it. — Horror ! 
 they are lowering the coffin into this vault ! I here enclosed — 
 the murderer wid the murdered — alone, shut up ! f cannot 
 bear it — no; rather than that I’ll die — I’ll die — die! {stahs 
 himself) Ha, ha, ha, die I Ha, ha, ha ! {music — he falls, and 
 is closed in) 
 
 Scene Fifth. — A View near the Inn. grooves) 
 
 Enter Jack and Sally, r. 
 
 .Tack. Hold thy tongue, Sally. I tell thee master will never 
 be overtaken ; they’ll never think to search where I’ve pntten 
 him, and when ’tis dark again — it’s in the little thicket, by the 
 churchyard — I’ll be there with a stout horse. Maybe he’ll get 
 to the seaside soon, and 
 
 Sally. Ah, but poor missus — they now do refuse to delibe- 
 rate her from prison, and maybe she’ll be hanged in master’s 
 stead. Be that English law, think you. Jack? 
 
 Jack. No — no, Sally ; the law is “ catch me, hang me.” 
 But don’t you fret any more about it — all will go well, depend 
 upon it. I feels as how master never did — never could commit 
 that there murder. No — no, that’s unpossible— and if time only 
 can be gained the whole truth will come out. But who the 
 deuce be these a coming here ? Lawyer Dozey and four of the 
 soldiers, come to attend the execution. What the plague be 
 they in search of here ? 
 
 i Enter Dozey, Sergeant, and four Soldiers, l. 
 
 Dozey. You we are in search of, villain ! 
 
 Jack. Villain ! come now, don’t you go for to call names. 
 But I suppose you be chopfallen because there’s to be no 
 execution. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Dozey. Insolent ! arrest the fellow. (Sergeant advances) 
 
 Jack. Arrest me ! what for I’d like to know ? 
 
32 JONATHAN BRADFORD. [ACT 2. 
 
 Dozey. For aiding and abetting in the escape of the con- 
 demned prisoner, Jonathan Bradford. Oh, you wicked rogue ! 
 
 Jack. I tell you what it is, Mr. Lawyer, if sich as you did 
 never put their roguery to a worse purpose than helping a poor 
 innocent fellow-cretur to escape from hanging, maybe. Jack 
 Ketch wouldn’t catch so many customers, (aside) I wonder 
 how he likes that — he, he, he I 
 
 Dozey. Contempt of court ! contempt of court ! Away with 
 him — away ! 
 
 Sally. Oh, mercy — pray ! 
 
 Jack. “Mercy! pray!” what for? I’ve done no harm. 
 Maybe they think to frighten I, but it won’t do. 1 knows 
 what 1 knows, and its devilish little they’ll be the wiser, I can 
 tell ’em. Hold up thy head, Sally, and look these fellows in 
 the face like a man. Exeunt^ l. 
 
 Scene Sixth. — The same as in Scene Firsts Act /. Music. 
 
 Enter Sergeant Sam, Ann, Dozey, Jack, Sally, Corporal, 
 and Soldiers, l. 2 e. 
 
 Dozey. For Ann Bradford : she must be reconducted to the 
 county prison, till His Majesty’s further pleasure be known. 
 With regard to this knave 
 
 Jack. You get’s nothing out of me, I can tell you. Don’t 
 you be alarmed, missus — though mayhap I does know where 
 master is, they 11 be just as likely to get the secret out of that 
 milestone as out of me. 
 
 Ann. Faithful servant — heaven will reward thee ! My 
 husband at liberty ! I dare to hope. 
 
 Dozey. Hope for nothing. If overtaken — you see those 
 soldiers — they have muskets. If, therefore, you know aught, 
 for your own sake 
 
 Ann. Sir, dare not to insult the feelings of a wife. ’Tis for 
 him and my children I suffer — for myself, nothing ! 
 
 Dozey. Forward — to prison ! 
 
 Enter Jonathan Bradford, l. u. e. 
 
 Brad. Stay! Jonathan Bradford is here, (embraces Ann) 
 
 Dozey. Ha ! the felon ! 
 
 Brad. Felon ! Fll bear that name no longer. 
 
 Look up, my wife — look glad and proudly up — 
 
 The proof of my innocence is here — here ! 
 
 Read this confession of the real assassin. 
 
 Read — read! (Jack talces the paper and gives it to Dozey) 
 
 Dozey. (looking at the paper) The confession of the murderer 
 of Mr. Hayes ! Signed “ Dan Macraisy.” 
 
 Jack. Why that was the name of the Irishman who slept 
 at our inn on the night of the murder. 
 
JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 33 
 
 Sc. 6.] 
 
 Dozey. May not this paper be a forgery ? 
 
 Brad. No, I have a witness. Caleb ! 
 
 Enter Caleb, l. u. e. 
 
 He — he saw the signature administered. 
 
 Dozey. This man does not appear to be respectable enough 
 to be credited upon his oath. 
 
 Caleb. I not respectable ! I ! I’m a respectable watch- 
 maker’s ’prentice, of Seven Dials ; and though I ran away, I 
 means to run back again. But I tell you I knows all about it; 
 I was close by Dan while he was a writing, I was ; and properly 
 frightened Dan looked ; and veil he might — how his hand did 
 shake 1 
 
 Dozey. Indeed ! why ? 
 
 Caleb. Vy? Yy because Mr. Bradford stood over him all 
 
 the while with that cursed loaded pistol, which 
 
 Dozey. Force ! force ! your evidence is quite conclusive. 
 Caleb, {conceitedly) I knew it would be. Exit^ R. 
 
 Dozey. As the prisoner has surrendered himself, and all is 
 prepared, the sheriff will consider it his duty immediately to 
 attend the execution. 
 
 Brad. Inflexible destiny ! in vain I struggle ; 
 
 The web which entangles me will not be shaken off ; — 
 Death yearns for me — death will have me. 
 
 Ann. Husband, take me with thee ; life is hateful ; 
 
 A dream ! a curse ! 1 forsake it — 
 
 Father ! children ! all ! 
 
 Brad. No, I will not die upon the scaffold, 
 
 A felon’s death ; I am an innocent man ! 
 
 Away, Ann ! {putting her aside) I am armed — 
 
 I would not willingly injure another. 
 
 But I will defend myself, {rushing across the stage and 
 presenting pistols) 
 
 Sergeant. Prisoner, surrender ! Soldiers, prepare. 
 
 (Ann screams) 
 
 Brad. I’m prepared to die ; 
 
 To die like a man —but not by the halter. 
 
 Take my wife, {she faints in the arum o/ Jack and Sally) 
 Now do your worst. Fire ! (Nelson rushes down^ c.from^ l.) 
 Farm. Stay! Jonathan is indeed blameless ! they have found 
 him — the real assassin ! Behold him I behold him ! 
 
 Dan, pale and bleeding^ is led on l. u. e., 5?/ two Villagers, 
 male and female Villagers following, 
 
 Macra. Yes, I am indeed the real murderer! The gowld 
 dazzled my eyes ; I slept in de two-bedded chamber ; along 
 the tiling there I crept, and entered the chamber of Hayes. 
 Caleb was with me, but he saw nothing, for I drugged his drink 
 
 kdexx 
 
 ecitatio 
 
34 
 
 JONATHAN BRADFORD. 
 
 — but where are my victims ? Sure won’t you let me see them? 
 (Bradford takes Ms hand — Dan sinks on his knee — Sally goes 
 into house^ and brings out the Children) Dat paper will tell the 
 rest. It’s a villain I’ve been — a bad, heartless villain — ^but I 
 am punished. Pardon I pardon ! {he falls backwards and dies) 
 
 (Curtain. 
 
 (tostnittfs. — P eriod 1736. 
 
 Jonathan Bradford. — Brown coat, black waistcoat, brown 
 breeches, black boots, and a three-cornered hat. 
 
 Farmer Nelson.— G rey coat, breeches and stockings; hair 
 white. 
 
 Mr. Haves. — Monmouth coat, green, trimmed with gold lace ; 
 breeches and waistcoat to correspond ; large black boots. 
 
 Dan Macraist. — First Dress: Claret-coloured coat, silk em- 
 broidered waistcoat, white breeches, large black boots, powdered 
 wig, three-cornered hat, cane, &c. ^Second Dress: Rags, re- 
 sembling the first dress. 
 
 Caleb. — First Dress : Old-fashioned light brown coat ; tawdry 
 flowered waistcoat ; plush breeches ; hair long and curling ; flat 
 three-cornered hat, and black boots. Second Dress: Rags to 
 correspond. A belt of painted rats. 
 
 Jack.— Short fustian jacket and breeches; red waistcoat, blue 
 stockings, and shoes ; hair short and curling. 
 
 Lawyer Dozey. — Old-fashioned black suit. 
 
 Surveyor Rodpole. — Ditto, grey. 
 
 Sergeant, Corporal, and Soldiers. — Old-fashioned uniform, as 
 worn at the time of the piece. 
 
 Ann. — Grey silk gown, white muslin apron and petticoat, round 
 cap and lace lappets, with pink bow on one side ; shoes and 
 buckles. 
 
 Sally. — Black gown, orange -coloured quilted petticoat, white 
 apron, flat hat, shoes and buckles. 
 
 The Children. — Blue frocks, &c. 
 
 Printed by Thomas Scott, Warwick Court, Holborn. 
 
FRENCHES DESCRIPTIVE LIST. 
 
 'SUIDE 
 
 \juide, Hand- 
 
 Book and Manual, I 5 . Containing 
 particulars of every necessary for the 
 jiroper Production of J’lays, the forma- 
 tion of a Company, and the Choice of 
 Pieces. List of the most Suitable 
 Dramas, Avith the number of Male and 
 female Characters in each. A Catalogue 
 of all the Modern Plays. The LaAv for 
 Aliateurs. The Names of Pieces act- 
 able without charge. Practical Advice 
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 tive Acting ; Avith a variety of Interesting 
 Details, never before Collected or 
 Printed. A List of Theatrical Trades- 
 men, and their Addresses. Edited by 
 T. H. Lacy. Tenth Edition, Cor- 
 rected to July 1st, 1873. 
 
 The Guide to the Stage. By 
 
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 BOOKS. 
 
 Beginners, relative to salaries, rules, 
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 tlemen, lovers, tradesmen, cloAvns, 
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 racters of middle and cild age, &c. 
 
 The Actor’s Art: Its Kequisites, 
 
 and Hoav to Obtain Them; Its Diffi- 
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 By C. W. Smith. Price Qd. 
 
 Readings Speaking and Act- 
 ing, the Essence of all Written on the 
 Subject. By C. Smith. Price Qd. 
 
 WORKS ON 
 
 Planche’s History of British 
 
 Costume, from the earliest period to 
 the close of the Eighteenth Century. 
 By J. B. Planche, Esq., F.B.S. 
 With numerous Illustrations. Beduced 
 to 55. Boards. 
 
 Female Costume ; or Dress as 
 
 a Fine Art. By Mrs. Merkifield. 
 Containing 40 illustrations. A Avork 
 of sterling utility and unimpeachable 
 
 COSTUME. 
 
 value to all ladies Avho value taste in 
 dress. Price I 5 . Paper. 
 
 Book of Costume ; or, Annals 
 
 of Fashion from the earliest period to 
 the present time. By a Lady of Rank. 
 Illustrated Avith over 200 Engravings 
 on Avood by the most eminent Artists. 
 500 octavo pages, boards, reduced from 
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 ELOCUTION-RECITERS AND SPEAKERS. 
 
 Bloeution ; its Principles and 
 
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 of speaking, upon aneAV and surprii-ingly 
 efficient system. Bjr Henry Innks, 
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 Massey’s Exhibition Reciter 
 
 and DraAving Boom Entertainments. 
 Being choice Recitations in prose and 
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 Petite Comedies, Dramas, and Farces, 
 adapted for the use of Schools and 
 Families. By Charles Massey, Pro- 
 fessor of Elocution. Tavo numbers, \s. 
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 All complete in one Act. 
 
 Part I. — Guy FaAvkes, historical drama 
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 rama, 8 m.; Mesmerism, farce, 7 m. ; 
 nd 12 selected pieces. 
 
 Part II. — Love and Jealousy, tragedy, 
 m. ; Irish TiHor, farce, 5 m. , Bombastes 
 'urioso, burlesque, 7 m. ; Sylvester 
 ,)aggerAvood, farce, 3 m.; School for 
 Orators, 9 m. ; and 19 selected pieces. 
 
 Che Comic Reciter. Contains, 
 
 added to a great variety of approved 
 Recitations, Tales, Stump Speeches, 
 
 Dialogues, &c., a selection of Opening 
 Addresses, Prologues and Epilogues, 
 Avhich, Avith slight alteration, may be 
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 Ill Five Parts, Gd. each. 400pp., cloth. 
 35 . 
 
 The Dramatic Reciter, Qd. 
 
 All excellent collection of Serious, 
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 The Modern Speaker, Three 
 
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 hints for improving the voice, carriage, 
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 The Olio ; or. Speaker’s Com- 
 panion. In Three Parts, 6^?. each. A 
 collection of Recitations in Prose and 
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 piled for the use of Schools, Thespian 
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 tion or Beading. 
 
LACY’S ACTING EDITION-New Pi 
 
 VOLUME 87. 
 
 1291 The Princess 
 
 1292 Lucretia Borg:ia 
 
 1293 Blue Devils 
 
 1294 Peg-g-ar’s Petition 
 
 1295 Lord Bateman 
 
 1296 Maid & Mag-pie, Drama 
 
 1297 Robber of Rhine 
 
 1298 Won at last 
 
 1299 Popping- Question 
 
 1300 Lizzie Lyle 
 
 1301 Pedlar Boy 
 
 1302 Linda of Chamouni 
 
 1303 Pike O’Callagfhan 
 
 1304 Clond md Sunshine 
 
 1305 Terrible Tinker 
 
 VOLUME 88. 
 
 1306 Dog-e of Duridio 
 
 1307 Oar Village 
 
 1308 I’m not Myself at all 
 
 1309 Kensington Gardens 
 
 1310 'J L'om and Jerry 
 
 1311 Wiid Oats 
 
 1312 Fatal Dowry 
 
 1313 Not so Bad after all 
 
 1314 Black Domino 
 
 1315 Corsican Br^others 
 
 1316 Gertrude’s Cherries 
 
 1317 Frou-Frou, Is. 
 
 1318 Self-Accusation 
 
 1319 Devil’s Mount 
 
 1320 Gentleman in Black 
 
 VOLUME 89. 
 
 Cyril’s Success, Is. 
 
 No Song no Supper 
 Lost and Found 
 Night of Suspense 
 Barber of Seville 
 Death of Marlowe 
 Personation 
 Who’s the Heir ? 
 
 Board and Residence 
 Captain Smith [Vale 
 Shepherd of Derwent 
 Palace of Truth 
 Whittington, Jun., &c. 
 Hercules 
 Robinson Crusoe 
 
 VOLUME 90. 
 
 New Men and Old 
 Rieiizi [Acres, Is. 
 Innkeeper of Abbeville 
 White Cat 
 One o’clock 
 Christmas Eve in a 
 Watch-house 
 Rcniantic Attachment 
 Behind the Curtain 
 Lady and the Devil 
 White Cockade 
 Plot and Counterplot 
 Dora’s Device 
 Perfect Love 
 Worth a Struggle 
 Miss Tibbit’s Back Hair 
 
 VOLUME 91, 
 
 Acis and Galatea 
 (A very new version of) 
 Sergeant’s Wedding 
 Every Man in his Humor 
 Lady of Belle Isle 
 Randall’s Thumb 
 Hunter of the Alps 
 Poor Soldier 
 
 1321 
 
 1322 
 
 1323 
 
 1324 
 
 1325 
 
 1326 
 
 1327 
 
 1328 
 
 1329 
 
 1330 
 
 1331 
 
 1332 
 
 1333 
 
 1334 
 
 1335 
 
 1336 
 
 1337 
 
 1338 
 
 1339 
 
 1340 
 
 1341 
 
 1342 
 
 1343 
 
 1344 
 
 1345 
 
 1346 
 
 1347 
 
 1348 
 
 1349 
 
 1350 
 
 1351 
 
 1352 
 
 1353 
 
 1354 
 
 1355 
 1056 
 1357 
 
 135S Not at all Jealous 
 
 1359 Cnpboard Love 
 
 1360 In Three Volumes 
 
 1361 Rule Britannia 
 
 1362 Tower of Nesle 
 
 1363 Little Mother 
 
 1364 Creatures of Impulse 
 
 1365 Little Robin Hood 
 
 VOLUME 92. 
 
 1366 Time works Wonders 
 
 1367 Eurydice [is. 
 
 1368 Painter of Ghent 
 
 1369 Clandestine Marriage 
 
 1370 Lodgers and Dodgers 
 
 1371 Ivanhoe, Drama 
 
 1372 Dead Man’s Point 
 
 1373 True as Steel 
 
 1374 Down in a Balloon 
 
 1375 Borrowed Plumes 
 
 1376 Everybody’s Husband 
 
 1377 Zarah, the Gipsy 
 
 1378 Four Cousins 
 
 1379 Woman in Red 
 
 l3^0 Watch Dog of the 
 Walsinghams 
 
 VOLUME 93. 
 
 1381 Lost Wife 
 
 1382 Little Giselle 
 
 1383 Robert Macaire, Burl. 
 l.'-iSl No. 6, Duke Street 
 
 1385 Masaniello, Opera 
 
 1386 Star of the North 
 
 1387 Orange Tree 
 
 1388 After the Party 
 
 1389 Shakspeare’sEarhDays 
 
 1390 Birds of Prey 
 
 1391 My Husband’s Ghost 
 
 1392 Matchmaker 
 
 1393 Lizzie Leigh 
 
 1394 Bride of Ludgate 
 
 1395 New Footman 
 
 VOLUME 94. 
 
 1396 Coals of Fire 
 
 1397 Cupid in Waiting 
 
 1398 Agreeable Surprise 
 
 1399 Manager in Distress 
 
 1400 Rival Pages [smiths 
 
 1401 Love laughs at Lock- 
 
 1402 Separate Maintenance 
 
 1403 Lucky Stars 
 
 1404 Camaralzainan 
 
 1405 Aline 
 
 1406 Tower of London 
 
 1407 Master’s Rival 
 
 1408 Isabella 
 
 1409 Paquita 
 
 1410 A Christmas Carol 
 
 VOLUME 95. 
 
 1411 King Christmas 
 
 1412 Never Reckon your 
 14id Clari [Chickens, &c. 
 
 1414 A Little Change 
 
 1415 Dreadfully Alarming 
 
 1416 In Possession 
 
 1417 Siege of Rociielle 
 
 1418 Traitor’s Gate 
 
 1419 Three Musketdears 
 
 1420 Paddy Miles 
 
 1421 Christmas Pantomime 
 
 1422 Peace at any Price 
 
 1423 Very Last Days of Pom- 
 
 1424 Coriolanus [peii 
 
 1425 Inkle and Yarico 
 
 1 
 
 1431 
 
 1432 
 
 1433 
 
 1434 
 
 1435 
 
 1436 
 
 1437 
 143X 
 
 1439 
 
 1440 
 
 1441 
 
 1442 
 
 1443 
 
 1444 
 
 1445 
 
 1446 
 
 1447 
 
 1448 
 
 1449 
 14.50 
 
 1451 
 
 1452 
 
 1453 
 
 1454 
 
 1455 
 
 Poetic Propo^i 
 Just like Roger 
 Leatherlungos the ( 
 Mazeppa 
 
 Shepherd Cournou; 
 Out of Frying-pan 
 Leave it to me 
 Bilious Attack 
 Broken Ties 
 Sympathy 
 
 VOLUME 97. 
 Half Caste 
 The Wliistler 
 Anne Bolejn 
 World and Stage, } 
 Son of the Soil 
 One too Many " 
 
 The Bells " 
 
 Shadows of the Pa^ 
 My Wife’s Baby 
 Behind a Mask 
 Should this Meet : 
 
 tlie 
 
 Cut off with a Shill 
 Which is Wiiich 
 Leah, the Forsaken 
 Romulus and Remf- 
 [Burte 
 
 VOLUME 98. 
 
 1456 Awaking 
 
 1457 Obliging a Frieivd 
 
 1458 1 Love You 
 
 14.59 Furnished Apartme 
 
 1460 On Guard 
 
 1461 A Yule Log 
 
 1462 Montcalm 
 
 I 1463 Kenilworth (Draim 
 I 1464 Two to One 
 I 1465 Up a Tree ^ 
 
 I 1466 Champagne ^ 
 j 1467 Dumb Savoyard !*■ 
 
 I 14-)8 Scap^^yroai ^ 
 
 1469 Man Proposes ' 
 
 1470 Battle of Waterloo - 
 
 VOLUME 99. • 
 
 1471 Meted Out % 
 
 1472 The Dead Witness' 
 
 1473 Waiting for the 
 
 1474 Return Ticket 
 
 1475 Cox and Box 
 
 1476 Miser’s Daughter- 
 
 1477 Doves in a Cage 
 
 1478 Last of the Legedj 
 
 1479 Follow the Leader 
 
 1480 Bumble’s Courtsh; 
 
 1481 Gdded Youth 
 
 1482 Glin Gath 
 
 1483 Drunkard’s Childn 
 
 1484 Cato 
 
 1485 Enchanted Wood 
 
 VOLUME 100. 
 
 1486 Does^he Love Me 
 
 1487 A Dodge for a Dii 
 
 1488 Bobby A1 
 
 1489 Daddy Hardacre 
 
 1490 Debt 
 
 TO BE COMPLETED (WITH INDEXES) IN ONE HUNDRED VOLl]