SCENE I.

The Street, with the Town-Gate, where an Officer stands with a Staff like a London Constable.

   Enter Harlequin riding in a Calash, comes through the Gate
    towards the Stage, dress’d like a Gentleman sitting in it. The

    Officer lays hold of his Horse.

Off. Hold, hold, Sir, you I suppose know the Customs that are due to this City of Naples, from all Persons that pass the Gates in Coach, Chariot, Calash, or Siege Volant.

Har. I am not ignorant of the Custom, Sir, but what’s that to me.

Off. Not to you, Sir! why, what Privilege have you above the rest?

Har. Privilege, for what, Sir?

Off. Why, for passing, Sir, with any of the before-named Carriages.

Har. Art mad? — Dost not see I am a plain Baker, and this my Cart, that comes to carry Bread for the Vice-Roy’s, and the City’s Use? — ha.

Off. Are you mad, Sir, to think I cannot see a Gentleman Farmer and a Calash, from a Baker and a Cart.

Har. Drunk by this Day — and so early too? Oh, you’re a special Officer? unhand my Horse, Sirrah, or you shall pay for all the Damage you do me.

Off. Hey Day! here’s a fine Cheat upon the Vice-Roy: Sir, pay me, or I’ll seize your Horse. [Har. strikes him. They scuffle a little. — Nay, and you be so brisk, I’ll call the Clerk from his Office. [Calls.] — Mr. Clerk, Mr. Clerk.

[Goes to the Entrance to call the Clerk, the mean time Har. whips a Frock over himself, and puts down the hind part of the Chariot, and then ’tis a Cart.

Enter Clerk.

Cler. What’s the matter here?

Off. Here’s a Fellow, Sir, will persuade me, his Calash is a Cart, and refuses the Customs for passing the Gate.

Cler. A Calash — Where? — I see only a Carter and his Cart.

[The Officer looks on him.

Off. Ha, what a Devil, was I blind?

Har. Mr. Clerk, I am a Baker, that came with Bread to sell, and this Fellow here has stopt me this Hour, and made me lose the sale of my Ware; and being drunk, will out-face me I am a Farmer, and this Cart a Calash.

Cler. He’s in an Error, Friend, pass on.

Har. No, Sir, I’ll have satisfaction first, or the Vice-Roy shall know how he’s serv’d by drunken Officers, that are a Nuisance to a Civil Government.

Cler. What do you demand, Friend?

Har. Demand, — I demand a Crown, Sir.

Off. This is very hard — Mr. Clerk — If ever I saw in my Life, I thought I saw a Gentleman and a Calash.

Cler. Come, come, gratify him, and see better hereafter.

Off. Here, Sir, — if I must, I must. [Gives him a Crown.

Cler. Pass on, Friend. [Ex. Clerk.

[Har. unseen, puts up the back of his Calash, and whips off his Frock, and goes to drive on. The Officer looks on him, and stops him again.

Off. Hum, I’ll swear it is a Calash — Mr. Clerk — Mr. Clerk, come back, come back. [Runs out to call him. He changes as before.

Enter Officer and Clerk.

 — Come, Sir, let your own Eyes convince you, Sir.

Cler. Convince me, of what, you Sot?

Off. This is a Gentleman, and that a — ha — [Looks about on Har.

Cler. Stark drunk! Sirrah, if you trouble me at every Mistake of yours thus, you shall quit your Office.

Off. I beg your Pardon, Sir, I am a little in Drink I confess — a little blind and mad — Sir, — This must be the Devil, that’s certain.

[The Clerk goes out.

   [Har. puts up his Calash again, and pulls off his Frock
    and drives out
.

 — Well, now to my thinking, ’tis as plain a Calash again as ever I saw in my Life, and yet I’m satisfy’d ’tis nothing but a Cart.

[Ex.