14432,1% 11.5 HARVARD COLLE FEB 18 1915 LIERARY C. F. PARKMAN FUND ERRATA. P. 13-for thy, read my. I am your nephew, sir, your sister's son. Printed by S. GOSNELL, Little Queen Street, London. A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. АСТ I. SCENE I. Enter WELLBORN, TAPWELL, and FROTH, from an Well. No credit? nor no liquor? Not the remainder of a single can, Left by a drunken porter. Froth. Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir : `, 'Tis verity, I assure you. Well. Verity, you brach! The devil turn'd precisian ?-Rogue, what am I? Tap. Troth! durst I trust you with a looking-glass, To let you see your trim shape, you would quit me, And take the name yourself. Well. How? dog!-[Raising his Cudgel.] Tap. Advance your Plymouth cloak, There dwells, and within call, if it please your worship, A potent monarch, call'd the constable, That does command a citadel, call'd the stocks; Such as with great dexterity will hale Your threadbare, tatter'd Well. Rascal! slave! Froth No rage, sir. Tap. At his own peril: Do not put yourself In too much heat, there being no water near |