your orations here, never stir if I don't set the dogs at you-Will you begone?

Marg. I won't.

Hodge. Here, Towzer. [Whistling.] Whu, whu, whu!

AIR XXVII.

Was ever poor fellow so plagu'd with a vixen?
Zouns! Madge, don't provoke me, but mind what I say;
You've chose a wrong parson for playing your tricks on,
So pack up your alls, and be trudging away:
You had better be quiet,

And not breed a riot ;

'Sblood, must I stand prating with you here all day? I've got other matters to mind,

Mayhap you may think me an ass ;

But to the contrary you'll find:

A fine piece of work, by the mass!

Enter ROSEtta.

Ros. Sure I heard the voice of discord here-as 1 live, an admirer of mine; and, if I mistake not, a rival —I'll have some sport with them.-How now, fellowservant, what's the matter?

Hodge. Nothing, Mrs. Rosetta; only this young woman wants to speak with his worship.-Madge, follow me.

Marg. No, Hodge, this is your fine madam ; but I am as good flesh and blood as she, and have as clear a skin too, tho'f I mayn't go so gay :-and now she's here, I'll tell her a piece of my mind.

Hodge. Hold your tongue, will you?
Marg. No, I'll speak if I die for it.
Ros. What's the matter, I say?
Hodge. Why nothing, I tell you ;-Madge

Marg. Yes, but it is something, it's all along of she, and she may be ashamed of herself. Ros. Bless me, child, do you direct your to me?

discourse

Marg. Yes, I do, and to nobody else; there was not a kinder soul breathing than he was till of late: I had never a cross word from him till he kept you company; but all the girls about say, there is no such thing as keeping a sweetheart for you.

Ros. Do you hear this, friend Hodge?

Hodge. Why, you don't mind she, I hope; but if that vexes her, I do like you, I do; my mind runs upon nothing else; and if so be as you was agreeable to it, I would marry you to-night, before to-mor

row.

Marg. You're a nasty monkey, you are parjur'd, you know you are, and deserve to have your eyes

tore out.

you

Hodge. Let me come at her-I'll teach you to call names, and abuse folks.

Marg. Do strike me: you a man!

Ros. Hold, hold-we shall have a battle here presently, and I may chance to get my cap tore off— Never exasperate a jealous woman; 'tis taking a mad bull by the horns--Leave me to manage her.

Hodge. You manage her! I'll kick her.

Ros. No, no, it will be more for my credit, to get the better of her by fair means-I warrant I'll bring her to reason.

Hodge. Well, do so then-But may I depend upon you? when shall I speak to the parson?

Ros. We'll talk of that another time-Go.
Hodge. Madge, good bye.

[Exit.

Ros. The brutality of this fellow shocks me !-Oh, man, man—you are all alike--A bumkin here, bred. at the barn-door! had he been brought up in a court, could he have been more fashionably vicious? show

me the lord, 'squire, colonel, or captain of them all, can outdo him.

AIR XXVIII.

Cease, gay seducers, pride to take,
In triumphs o'er the fair;
Since clowns as well can act the rake,
As those in higher sphere.

Where then to shun a shameful fate

Shall helpless beauty go;

In ev'ry rank, in ev'ry state,

Poor woman finds a foe.

Marg. I am ready to burst; I can't stay in the

place any longer.

Ros. Hold, child-come hither.

Marg. Don't speak to me, don't you.

to you

of

Ros. Well, but I have something to say consequence, and that will be for your good; I suppose this fellow promis'd you marriage.

me.

Marg. Ay, or he should never have prevail'd upon

Ros. Well, now you see the ill consequence of trusting to such promises: when once a man hath cheated a woman of her virtue, she has no longer hold of him; he despises her for wanting that which he hath robb'd her of; and, like a lawless conqueror, triumphs in the ruin he hath occasioned.

Marg. Nan!

Ros. However, I hope the experience you have got, though somewhat dearly purchased, will be of use to you for the future; and as to any designs I have upon the heart of your lover, you may make yourself easy, for I assure you, I shall be no dangerous rival; so go your ways, and be a good girl.

[Exit.

Marg. Yes I don't very well understand her talk, but I suppose that's as much as to say she'll keep him to herself: well, let her-who cares? I don't fear getting better nor he is any day of the year, for the matter of that; and I have a thought come into my head that may be will be more to my advantage.

AIR XXIX.

Since Hodge proves ungrateful, no further I'll seek,
But go up to the town in the waggon next week;
A service in London is no such disgrace,
And Register's office will get me a place:

Bet Blossom went there, and soon met with a friend;
Folks say in her silks she's now standing an end!
Then why should not I the same maxim pursue,
And better my fortune as other girls do?

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Room in JUSTICE WOODCOCK's House.

Enter ROSETTA and LUCINDA.

Ros. Ha! ha! ha! Oh, admirable, most delectably ridiculous. And so your father is content he should be a music-master, and will have him such, in spite of all your aunt can say to the contrary?

Lucin. My father and he, child, are the best companions you ever saw; and have been singing together the most hideous duets! Bobbing Joan, and Old Sir Simon the King: Heaven knows where Eustace could pick them up; but he has gone through half the contents of Pills to purge Melancholy, with him.

Ros. And have you resolved to take wing tonight?

Lucin. This very night, my dear: my swain will go

from hence this evening, but no farther than the inn where he has left his horses; and at twelve precisely, he will be with a post-chaise at the little gate that opens from the lawn into the road, where I have promised to meet him.

Ros. Then, depend upon it, I'll bear you company. Lucin. We shall slip out when the family are asleep, and I have prepared Hodge already. Well, I hope we shall be happy.

Ros. Never doubt it.

AIR XXX.

In love should there meet a fond pair,
Untutor'd by fashion or art;
Whose wishes are warm and sincere,
Whose words are th'excess of the heart

If ought of substantial delight,
On this side the stars can be found,
'Tis sure when that couple unite,
And Cupid by Hymen is crown'd.

Enter HAWTHORN.

Hawth. Lucy, where are you?
Lucin. Your pleasure, sir?

Ros. Mr. Hawthorn, your servant.

Hawth. What, my little water-wagtail! The very couple I wish'd to meet: come hither, both of you. Ros. Now, sir, what would you say to both of

us?

Hawth. Why, let me look at you a little-have you got on your best gowns, and your best faces? If not, go and trick yourselves out directly, for I'll tell you a secret-there will be a young bachelor in the house, within these three hours, that may fall to the share of one of you, if you look sharp-but whether mistress or maid