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Fair. No, in truth, friend Giles; but I men- Ah, you little cunning vixen!
tioned our affair at a distance; and I think I can see your roguish smiles.
there is no fear.

Addslids! my mind is so possest,
Giles. That's right and when shall us- Till we're sped, I shan't have rest.
You do know I have told you my mind often Only say the thing's a bargain,
and often.

Here an you like it,
Fair. Farmer, give us thy hand; nobody Ready to strike it,
doubts thy good will to me and my girl; and There's at once an end of arguing:
you may take my word, I would rather give I'm her's, she's mine;
her to thee than another; for I am main cer- Thus we scal, and thus we sign. [E.cit.
tain thou wilt make ber a good husband.
Giles. Thanks to your kind opinion, mas-

Re-enter Patty from the Cottage. ter Fairfield ; if such' be my hap, I hope there Fair. Patty, child, why wouldst not thou will be no cause of complaint.

open

the door for our neighbour Giles? Fair. And I promise thee my daughter will Pat. Really, father, I did not know what make thee a choice wife. But thou know'st, was the matter. friend Giles, that I, and all belongs to me, Fair. Well, our neighbour Giles will be bare great obligations to lord Aimworth's fa- here another time; he'll be here again premily ; Patty, in particular, would be one of sently: He's gone up to the castle, Patty: the most ungrateful wretches this day breath-thou know'st it would not be right for us to ing, if she was to do the smallest thing do any thing without giving his lordship in. contrary to their consent and approbation. telligence, so I have sent the farmer to let

Giles. Nay, nay, 'tis well enough known to him know that he is willing, and we all the country she was the old lady's darling. willing, and, with his lordship's approbation

Fair. Well, master Giles, I'll assure thee Pat. Ob, dear father what are you going she is not one whit less obliged to my lord to say? himself. When his mother was taken off so Fair. Nay, child, I would not have stirrid suddenly, and his affairs called him up to a step for fifty pounds, without advertising London, if Pally would bave remained at the his lordship beforehand. castle, she might have bad the command of Pat. But surely, surely, you have not done all; or if she would have gone any where this rash, this precipitate thing? else, be would have paid for her fixing, let Fair. How rash, how is iť rash, Patty? I the cost be what it would.

don't understand thee. Giles. Why, for that matter, folks did not Pat. Oh, you have distress'd me beyond spare to say, that my lord had a sort of a imagination — but why would you not give sneaking kindaess for her himself: and I re-me notice, speak to me first? member, at one time, it was rise all about Fair. Why han't I spoken to thee an hunthe neighbourhood, that she was actually to dred times? No, Patty, 'tis thou that wouldst be our lady.

distress me, and thou'st break my heart. Fair. Pho, pho! a pack of woman's tales. Pat. Dear father! Giles. Nay, to be sure they'll say any thing. Fair. All I desire is to see thee well sel

Fair. My lord's a man of a better way of tled; and now that I am likely to do so, thou thinking, friend Giles--but this is neither here art not contented. I am sure the farmer is nor there to our business-Have you been at as sightly a clever lad as any in the country; the castle yet?

and is be not as good as we? Giles. Who, I! bless your heart I did not Pat. 'Tis very true, father, I am to blame ; hear a syllable of his lordship's being come pray forgive me. down, till your lad told me.

Fair. Forgive thee! Lord help thee, my Fair. Nó! why then go up to my lord, let child, I am not angry with thee; but quiet him know you have a mind to make a match thyself, Pally, and ibou'lt see all this will with my daughter, hear what he has to say turn out for ibe best.

[Erit. to it, and afterwards we will try if we can't Pat. What will become of me?-My lord settle mallers.

will certainly imagine this is done with my Giles. Go up to my lord? Icod, if that be consent-Well, is he not himself going to be all, I'll do it with the biggest pleasure in life. married to a lady, suitable to him in rank,

- But where's miss Pat? Might not one ax suitable to bim in fortune, as this farmer is her how she do?

to me; and under what pretence can I reFair. Never spare it; she's within there. fuse the husband my father has found for me?

Giles. I sees ber-old rabbit it, this hatch Shall I say that I have dared to raise my inis locked now-miss Pat - miss Pally.-she clinations above my condition, and presumed makes believe not to bear me.

to love where my duty taught me only graFair. Well, well, never mind, thou'lt come titude and respect? Alas! who could live in and eat a morsel of dinner with us. the house with lord Aimworth, see bim, con

Giles. Nay, but just to have a bit of a joke verse with him, and not love him! I have with her at present-miss Pat, I say-won't this consolation, however, my folly is yet unyou open the door?

discover'd to any; else, how should I be riA IR

diculed and despised! nay, would not my Hark! 'tis !, your own true lover; lord himself despise me, especially if he knew After walking three long miles,

that I have more than once construed his naOne kind look at least discover,

tural affability and politeness into sentiments Come and speak a word to Giles. as unworthy of him, as mine are bold and You alone my heart I fix on:

extravagant. Unexampled vanity.

A 1 R.

Theo. Her fondness indeed is very exiraAh! why should fate, pursuing

ordinary. A wretched thing like me,

Sir Á. Besides, could you give up the proHeap, ruin thus on ruin,

spect of being a counless, and mistress of this And add to misery?

fine place ?
The griefs I languish'd under

Theo. Yes, truly, could I.
In secret let me share;

A I R.
But this new stroke of thunder

With the man that I love, was I destin'd to
Is more than I can bear, [Erit.

dwell, SCENE II.A Chamber in LORD AIMWORTH'S

On a mountain, a moor, in a cot, in a cell

; Char Retreats the most barren, most desert

, would be House,

More pleasing than courts or a palace to me. Enter Sir HARRY SYCAMORE and Theodosia. Let the rain and the venal in wedlock aspire

Sir H. Well but, Theodosia, child, you are To what folly esteems, and the vulgar admire; quite unreasonable.

I yield them the bliss, where their wishes Theo. Pardon me, papa, it is not I am un

are plac'd, reasonable, but you; when I gave way to my Insensible creatures! 'tis all they can taste. inclinations for Mr. Mervin, he did not seem

Enter LADY SYCAMORE. less agreeable to you and my mamma than he was acceptable to me. It is therefore you Lady S. Sir Harry, where are you? have been unreasonable, in first encouraging Sir H. Here, my lamb. Mr. Mervin's addresses, and afterwards for- Lady S. I am just come from looking over bidding him your house; in order to bring his lordship's family trinkets. Well, miss Syme down here, to force me on a gentleman-camore, you are a happy creature, to have

Sir H. Force you, Dossy ?), what do you diamonds, equipage, title, and all the blessings mean? By the la, I would not force you on of life poured thus upon you at once. the czar of Muscovy.

Theo. Blessings, madam! Do you think Theo. And yet, papa, what else can I call then I am such a wretch as to place my feit? for though lord' Aimworth is extremely at- licity in the possession of any such trumpers? tentive and obliging, I assure you he is by

Lady S. Upon my word, miss, you have no means one of the most ardent of lovers. a very disdainful manner of expressing four

Sir H. Ardent, ah! there it is; you girls self; I believe there are very few young wonever think there is any love, without kissing men of fashion, who would think any sacriand hugging; but you should consider, child, fice they could make too much for them.my lord Aimworth is a polite man, and has Did you ever hear the like of her, sir Harry? been abroad in France and Italy, where these Sir H. Why, my dear, I have just been things are not the fashion: I remember when talking to her in the same strain, but whalI was on my travels, among the madames ever she has got in her headand signoras, we never saluted more than the Lady S. Oh, it is Mr. Merrin, her geatletip of the ear.

man of Bucklersbury.–Fie, miss, marry a cit! Theo. Really, papa, you have a very strange Were is your pride, your sanity; bave you opinion of my delicacy.

nothing of the person of distinction about you? Sir H. Well come, my poor Dossy, I see Sir 81. Well but, my lady, you know ! you are chagrin'd, but you know it is not my am a piece of a cit myself, as I may say, fault; on the contrary, 'I assure you, I had my great-grandfather was a dry-salier

. always a great regard for young Mervin, and Theo. And yet, madam, you condescended should have been very glad

to marry my papa. Theo. How then, papa, could you join in Lady S. Well, if I did, miss, I bad bat fire forcing me to write bim that strange letter, thousand pounds to my portion, and sir Harry never to see me more? or how indeed could knows I was past eight-and-thirty before 1 I comply with your commands? what must would listen to him. be think of me?

Sir H. Nay, Dossy, that's true, your mamSir H. Ay, but hold, Dossy, your mamma ma ownd eight-and-thirty before we were convinced me that he was not so proper a married: but by the la, my dear, you were son-in-law for us as lord Aimworth. a lovely angel; and by candle-ligli nobody

Theo. Convinced you! Ah, my dear papa, would have taken you for above fire-andyou were not convinced.

twenty. Sir H. What, don't I know when I am Lady S. Sir Harry, you remember the last convinced?

lime I was at my lord duke's. Theo. Why no, papa;

because

Sir H. Yes, my love, it was the very day nature and easiness of temper is such, that your little bitch Minxeý pupt. you pay more respect to the judgment of Lady S. And pray what did the whole fa mamma,

and less to your own, ihan you mily say? my lord John, and my lord Thor ought to do.

mas, and my lady duchess in particular? Sir H. Well

, but Dossy, don't you see how Cousin, says her grace to me--for she always your mamma loves me? If the tip of my little called me cousin finger does but ache, she's like a bewitched Theo. Well but, madam, to cut this matter woman; and if I was to die, I don't believe short at once, my father bas a great regard she would outlive the burying of me: nay, for Mr. Mervin, and would consent to our she has told me as much herself.

union with all his heart. 1) Dossy is an abbreviation of Theodosia.

Lady S. Do you say so, sir Harry?

for

your good

AIR.

gry with I.

angry?

Sir H. Who I, love!

Lord A. Upon my word, farmer, you bave Lady S. Then all my care and prudence made an excellent choice-It is a god-daughter are come to nothing.

of my mother's, madam, who was bred up Sir H. Well, but stay, my lady-Dossy, under her care, and I protest I do not know you are always making mischief.

a more amiable young woman.-But are you Theo. Ah! my dear sweet

sure, farmer, that Paity herself is inclinable Lady S. Do, miss, that's right, coax- to this match?

Theo. No, madam, I am not capable of Giles. O yes, my lord, I am sartain of that. any such meanness.

Lord A. Perhaps then she desired you to Lady S. 'l'is very civil of you to contradict come and ask my consent? me however,

Giles. Why as far as this here, my lord; Sir H. Eh! what's that-hand's off, Dossy, to be sure, the miller did not care to publish don't come near me.

the bans, without making your lordship ac

quainted-But I hope your bonour's not anWhy how now, miss pert, Do you think to divert'

Lord A. Angry, fariner! why should you My anger by fawning and stroking ? think so ? - what interest bave I in it to be

Would you make me a fool, Your plaything, your tool?

Sir H. And so, honest farmer, you are Was ever young minx so provoking? going to be married to little Patty Fairfield ? Get out of my sight!

She's an old acquaintance of mine: how long 'Twould be serving you right,

bave you and she been sweethearts? To lay a sound dose of the lash on:

Giles. Not a long while, an please your Contradict your mamma!

worship: I've a mind by the la

Sir H. Well, her father's a good warm But I won't put myself in a passion.

fellow; I suppose you take care that she brings (E.cit Theo. something to make the pot boil?

Lady S. What does that concern you, sir Enter LORD AIMWORTH and Giles.

Harry? How often must I tell you of meddLord A. Come, farmer, you may come in, ling in other people's affairs ? there are none here but friends. - Sir Harry, Sir H. My lord, a penny for your thoughts?). your servant.

Lord A. I beg your pardon, sir Harry ; Sir H. My lord, I kiss your lordship's hands upon my word, I did not think where I was. -I hope he did not overhear us squabbling. Giles. Well then, your bonour, I'll make

[Aside. bold to be taking my leave; I may say you Lord A. Well now, master Giles, what is gave consent for miss Patty and I to go on. it you have got to say to me? If I can do Lord A. Undoubtedly, farmer, if she apyou any service, this company will give you proves of it: but are you not afraid that her leave to speak.

education has rendered ber a little unsuitable Giles. I thank your lordship; 1 has not got for a wife for you? a great deal to say; I do come to your lord- Lady S. Oh, my lord, if the girl's handyship about a little business, if you'll please to Sir H. Oh, ay-when a girl's handy give me the bearing.

Giles. Handy! Why, saving respect, there's Lord A. Certainly, only let me know what nothing omes amiss to her; she's cute at it is.

every varsal kind of thing. Giles. Why, an please you, my lord, being left alone, as I may say, seyther dead, and all Odd's my life, search England over, the business upon my own hands, I do think An you match her in her station, of setting and taking a wife, and am come I'll be bound to fly the nation: to ax your honour's consent.

And be sure as well I love her. Lord A. My consent, farmer! if that be ne- Do but feel my heart a beating, cessary, you have it with all my heart-I hope Şiill her pretty name repeating; you bave taken care to make a prudent choice. Here's the work 'tis always at, Giles. Why I do hope so, my lord.

Pilty, patly, pat, pit, pat. Lord A. Well, and who is the happy fair

When she makes the music tinkle, one? Does she live in my house? Giles. No, my lord, she does not live in

What on yearth can sweeter be?

Then her little eyes so twinkle, your house, but she's a parson of your ac

'Tis a feast to hear and see. [Erit. quaintance. Lord A. Of my acquaintance !

Sir H. By dad, this is a good, merry fellow; Giles. No offence,

is not be, love? with his pitty pally-And so, hope, your honour. Lord A. None in the leasi: but how is she Iny lord, you have given your consent that

be shall marry your mother's old bousekeepan acquaintance of mine?

er. Ab, well, I can see Giles. Your lordship do know miller Fairfield ?

1) A yonng lady being once melancholy and thoughtful

in the presence of a gentleman for whom she had a Lord A. Well

sort of a tendre, which was retarned on his pari also, Giles. And Patty Fairfield, bis daughter, though neither party knew the sentiments of the other,

was thas accostrd by the gentleman; “A penny for

your thoughts.” (1 will give you a perny for your Lord A. Ay, is it ber you think of marrying? thoughts.) “ For The other odd (remaining) eleven

Giles. Why if so be as your lordship has pence you shall have thoughts and thinker," answered no objection; io be sure we will do nothing

The lady; the gentleman produced a shilling, and the

lady consented to marry him.--This is now often used, without your consent and approbation.

but not necessarily implying this meaning.

AIR.

my lord ?

AIR.

Lord A. Nobody doubts, sir Harry, that have not something to spare for poor Fanny you are very clear-sighted.

the gipsy Sir H. Yes, yes, let me alone, I know what's Ralph. I tell you, Fan, the gentleman bas what; I was a young fellow once myself; no change about him; why the plague will and I should have been glad of a tenant to you be so troublesome? take a pretty girl off my hands now and then, Fan. Lord, what is it to you, if his booas well as another.

our has a mind to give me a trifle? Do Lord 4. I protest, my dear friend, I don't pray, gentleman, put your band in your understand you.

pocket. Lady S. Nor nobody else—Sir Harry, you Mer. I am almost distracted! Ungrateful are going at some beastliness now.

Theodosia, to change so suddenly, and write Sir H. Wbo I, my lady? Not I, as I hope me such a letter! However, I am resolved to live and breathe 'tis nothing to us you to have my dismission face to face; this letknow, what my lord does before he's married : ter may be forced from her by her mother, when I was a bachelor, I was a devil among who I know was never cordially my friend the wenches myself; and yet I vow to George, I could not get a sight of her in London, but my lord, since I' knew my lady Sycamore, here they will be less on their guard; and and we shall be man and wife eighteen years, see her I will, by one means or older, if we live till next Candlemas-day, I never Fan. Then your honour will got extend had to do

your charity ? Lady S. Sir Harry, come out of the room, I desire.

I am young, and I am friendless, Sir H. Why, what's the matter, my lady, And

poor, alas! withal; I did not say any harm?

Sure my sorrows will be endless; Lady S. I see what you are driving at, you In vain for help I call. want to make me faint.

Have some pity in your nature, Sir H. I want to make you faint, my lady? To relieve a wretched creature, Lady S. Yes, you do--and if you don't

Though the gift be ne'er so small. come out this instant I shall fall down in the

[Meroin gives her Money. chamber-I beg, my lord, you won't speak to him. Will you come out, sir Harry?

May you, possessing every blessioz, Sir H. Nay but, my, lady!

Still inherit, sir, all you merit, sir, Lady S. No. I will bave you out.

And never know what it is to want; [Exeunt Sir Harry and Lady Sycamore.

Sweet heaven your worship all bappigess Lord A. This worthy baronet and his lady

grant!

(Erit. are certainly a very whimsical couple; how-t. Ralph. Now I'll go and take that money ever, their daughter is perfectly amiable in from her; and I have a good mind to lid every respect : and yet I am sorry I have her, so I have. brought her down here; for can I in honour Mer. Pho, pr'ythee stay where you are. marry her, while my affections are engaged, Ralph. Nay, but I bate to see a load so to another? To what does the pride of con- devilish greedy. dition and the censure of the world force me! Mer. Well, come, she has not got a great Must I then renounce the only person that deal, and I have thought how she may do me can make me happy; because, because what? a favour in her lurn. because she's a miller's daughter? Vain pride Ralph. Ay, but you may put that out of and unjust censure! Has she not all the gra- your head, for I can tell you she won't. ces that education can give her, sex, improved

Mer. How so? by a genius seldom found among the highest? Ralph. How so, why she's as cunning as Has she not modesty, sweetness of temper, the devil. and beauty of person, capable of adorning a Mer. Oh, she is -1 fancy I understand you. rank the most exalted? But it is too late to Well, in that case, friend Ralph - Your nathink of these things now; my hand is pro-me's Ralph, I think? mised, my honour cngaged: and if it was not Ralph. Yes, sir, at your service, for want so, she has engaged herself; the farmer is a of a better. person to her mind, and 'I have authorized Mer. I say then, friend Ralph, in that case, their union by my approbation.

we will remit the favour you think of, till the

lady is in a more complying bumour, and The madman thus, at times, we see,

try if she cannot serve me at present in some

other capacity—There are a good many sp With seeming reason blest ; His looks, his words, bis thoughts are free,

sies hereabout, are there not? And speak a mind at rest,

Ralph. Softly - I bare a whole gang

of them here in our barn; I hare kept tben But short the calms of ease and sense, about the place these three months, and all And ah! uncertain too,

on account of she. While that idea lives from whence

Mer. Really. At first his frenzy grew.

[Exit. Ralph. Yea, - but for your life dost say

a word of it to any Christian-I ac in love SCENE III. - A Village.

with her.

Mer. Indeed! Enter Ralph, with Mervin in a riding Dress,

Ralph. Feyther is as mad with me about followed by FANNY.

it as old Scratch; and I gets the plague and Fan. Ah, pray, your honour, try if you all of anger; but I don't mind thal.

A I R.

upon love.

Mer. Well, friend Ralph, if you are in Fan. This is a thing the most oddest, love, no doubt you have some influence over Some folks are so plaguily modest: your mistress; don't you think you could prevail upon 'her, and her companions, to Ralph To be in their place, supply me with one.of their habits, and let Fan. We'd carry it off with a different face. me go up, with them to-day to my lord Giles. Thus I take her by the lily band, Ainworth's ?

So soft and white: Ralph. Why, do you want to go a mum- Ralph.

Why now that's right; ming? 1) We never do that here but in the And kiss her too, mon, never stand. Christmas holidays.

What words can explain Mer. No matter; manage this for me, and My pleasure-my pain? manage it with secrecy, and I promise you Pat. It

presses,

it

rises, shall not go unrewarded.

Giles.

My heart it surprises, Ralph. Oh, as for that, sir, I don't look I can't keep it down, though I'd never for any thing I can easily get you a bundle

so sain. of their rags; but I don't know whether you'll Fan. So here the play ends, prevail on them to go up to my lord's, be

The lovers are friends. cause they are afraid of a big dog that's in Ralph. Hush. the yard; but I'll tell you what I can do; 1 Fan. Tush! can go up before you and have the dog fast- Giles.

Nah! ened, for I know his kennel.

(Exit. Pat.

Phaw! Mer. That will do very well-By means of All. What torments exceeding, what joys this disguise I shall probably get a sight of

are above, ber; and I leave the rest to love and fortune. The pains and the pleasures that wait A I R.

[Ereunt. Why quits the merchant, blest with case, The pleasures of his native seat,

ACT II. To lempt the dangers of the seas,

SCENE I.-A marble Portico, ornamented And climes more perilous than these,

with Statues, which opens from LORD 'Midst freezing cold, or scorcbing heat? AIM WORTH's House; two Chairs near the He knows the hardships, knows the pain, Front. The length of way, but thinks it small;

Enter LORD AIM WORTH, reading.
The sweets of what he hopes to gain,
Undaunted, make himn combat all. (Exit

.

Lord A. In how contemptible a light would

the situation I am now in show me to most Scene IV.- The Mill.

of the fine men of the present age? In love

with a country girl; rivalled by a poor fellow, Enter Patty, RALPH, Giles, and Fanny.

one of my meanest tenants, and uneasy at it! Giles. So bis lordship, was as willing, as If I had a mind to her, I know they would the flowers in May—and as I was coning tell me I ought to have taken care to make along, who should I meet but your father myself easy long ago, when I had ber in my and he bid me run in all haste and tell you power. But I have the testimony of my own

were sure you would be deadly heart in my favour; and I think, was it to do glad.

again, I should act as I have done. Let's see Pat. I know not what business you had to what we have bere. Perhaps a book may go to my lord's at all, farmer.

compose my thoughts. [Reads, and throws Giles. Nay, I only did as I was desired- the Book away] 'It's to no purpose; I can't Master Fairfield bid 'me tell you moreover, as read, I can't ibink, I can't do any thing. bow be would bave you go up to my lord, out of hand, and tbank him.

A I R. Ralph. So she ought; and take off those Ah! how vainly mortals treasure clothes, and put on what's more becoming Hopes of happiness and pleasure, her station : you know my father spoke to

Hard and doubtful to obtain! you of that this morning too.

By what standards false we measure; Pat. Brother, I shall obey my father.

Still pursuing

Ways to ruin,
QUARTETTO. – Patty, Giles, Ralph, and Seeking bliss, and finding pain!

Fanny.
Pat. Lie still, my heart; oh! fatal stroke,

Enter Party.
That kills at once my hopes and me.

Pat. Now comes the trial: no, my sentence Giles. Miss Pat!

is already pronounced, and I will meet my Pat. What!

fate with prudence and resolution, Giles.

Nay, I only spoke. Lord A. Who's there?
Ralph. Take courage, mon, she does but joke. Pat. My lord!
Come, suster, somewhat kinder be. Lord A. Patty Fairfield!

Pat. I humbly beg pardon, my lord, for 1) The mummers are generally a number of young men

who go about in the country towns, dressed up with pressing so abruptly into your presence: but fine gold and silver paper sewed to their cloaths. I was told I might walk this way; and I am at Christmas time, to get something for repeating an old come by my father's commands to thank your mystery in thyme, something about si George and lordship for all your favours.

,couple of lines thus : "I am the bold St. George, the knight,

Lord A. Favours, Patty; what favours? I Go forth with sword and shield to fight." have done you nonc: but why this metamor

for we

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