goes on no more.

know myself in them again, they appear so strange, and feel so unwieldy. However, my gardener's jacket -I wonder this girl does not come— [Looking at his Watch.]-Perhaps she won't comeWhy, then, I'll go into the village, take a post-chaise, and depart without any farther ceremony.

AIR XXXVII.

How much superior beauty awes,
The coldest bosoms find;
But with resistless force it draws,
To sense and sweetness join'd.
The casket, where, to outward show,
The workman's art is seen,

Is doubly valu'd, when we know
It holds a gem within.

Hark! she comes.

Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS and HAWTHORN.. Confusion! my father! What can this mean?

Sir Will. Tom, are not you a sad boy, Tom, to bring me an hundred and forty miles here?-May I never do an ill turn, but you deserve to have your head broke; and I have a good mind, partly-What, sirrah! don't you think it worth your while to speak

to me?

Y. Mead. Forgive me, sir; I own I have been in a fault.

Sir Will. In a fault! to run away from me, because I was going to do you good-May I never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if I did not pick out as fine a girl for him, partly, as any in England; and the rascal run away from me, and came here and turn'd gardener. And pray, what did you propose to yourself, Tom? I know you were always fond of Botany, as they call it; did you intend to keep the

trade going, and advertise fruit-trees and floweringshrubs, to be had at Meadows's nursery?

Hawth. No, Sir William, I apprehend the young gentleman designed to lay by the profession; for he has quitted the habit already.

Y. Mead. I am so astonished to see you here, sir, that I don't know what to say; but I assure you, if you had not come, I should have returned home to you directly. Pray, sir, how did you find me out?

Sir Will. No matter, Tom, no matter; it was partly by accident, as a body may say; but what does that signify-tell me, boy, how stands your stomach towards matrimony; do you think you could disgest a wife now?

Y. Mead. Pray, sir, don't mention it: I shall always behave myself as a dutiful son ought; I will never marry without your consent, and I hope you won't force me to do it against my own.

Sir Will. Is not this mighty provoking, Master Hawthorn? Why, sirrah, did you ever see the lady I designed for you?

Y. Mead. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's merit; but at present, I am not disposed

Hawth. Nay, but young gentleman, fair and softly, you should pay some respect to your father in this

matter.

Sir Will. Respect, Master Hawthorn! I tell you he shall marry her, or I'll disinherit him! there's once. Look you, Tom, not to make any more words of the matter, I have brought the lady here with me, and I'll see you contracted before we part; or you shall delve and plant cucumbers as long as you live.

Y. Mead. Have you brought the lady here, sir? I am sorry for it.

Sir Will. Why sorry? what, then, you won't marry her? we'll see that! Pray, Master Hawthorn, conduct the fair one in.Ay, sir, you may fret, and dance

about, trot at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, if you please, but marry, whip me, I'm resolv'd. Hawth. Here is the lady, Sir William.

Enter ROSETTA.

Sir Will. Come in, madam, but turn your face from him he would not marry you, because he had not seen you but I'll let him know my choice shall be his, and he shall consent to marry you before he sees you, or not an acre of estate-Pray, sir, walk this way.

Y. Mead. Sir, I cannot help thinking your conduct a little extraordinary; but, since you urge me so closely, I must tell you my affections are engaged. Sir Will. How, Tom, how!

Y. Mead. I was determined, sir, to have got the better of my inclination, and never have done a thing which I knew would be disagreeable to you.

Sir Will. And pray, sir, who are your affections engaged to? Let me know that.

Y. Mead. To a person, sir, whose rank and fortune may be no recommendations to her: but whose charms and accomplishments entitle her to a monarch. I am sorry, sir, it's impossible for me to comply with your commands, and I hope you will not be offended if I quit your presence.

Sir Will. Not I, not in the least; go about your business.

Y. Mead. Sir, I obey.

Hawth. Now, madam, is the time.

[ROSETTA advances, YOUNG MEADOWS turns round, and sees her.

Sir Will. Well, Tom, will you go away

now?.

from me

Hawth. Perhaps, Sir William, your son does not like the lady; and if so, pray don't put a force upon his inclination.

G

Y. Mead. You need not have taken this method, sir, to let me see you are acquainted with my folly, whatever my inclinations are.

Sir Will. Well, but Tom, suppose I give my consent to your marrying this young woman?

Y. Mead. Your consent, sir! What is all this? Pray don't make a jest of me.

Sir Will. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, if it is not truth; this is my friend's daughter.

Y. Mead. Sir!

Ros. Even so; 'tis very true indeed. In short, you have not been a more whimsical gentleman than I have a gentlewoman; but you see we are designed for one another, 'tis plain.

Y. Mead. I know not, madam, what I either hear or see; a thousand things are crowding on my ima gination; while, like one just awakened from a dream, I doubt which is reality, which delusion.

Sir Will. Well, then, Tom, come into the air a bit, and recover yourself.

Y. Mead. Nay, dear sir, have a little patience; do you give her to me?

Sir Will. Give her to you! ay, that I do, and my blessing into the bargain.

Y. Mead. Then, sir, I am the happiest man in the world; I inquire no farther; here I fix the utmost limits of my hopes and happiness.

AIR XXXVIII.

Y. Mead. All I wish in her obtaining,

Ros.

Fortune can no more impart;
Let my eyes, my thoughts explaining,
Speak the feelings of my heart.
Y. Mead. Joy and pleasure never ceasing,

Ros.

Love with length of years increasing.

Together. Thus my heart and hand surrender,

Here my faith and truth I plight;
Constant still, and kind, and tender,
May our flames burn ever bright.

Hawth. 'Give you joy, sir; and you, fair ladyAnd, under favour, I'll salute you, too if there's no fear of jealousy.

Y. Mead. And may I believe this?-Pr'ythee tell dear Rosetta.

me,

Ros. Step into the house, and I'll tell you every thing I must intreat the good offices of Sir William, and Mr. Hawthorn, immediately; for I am in the utmost uneasiness about my poor friend Lucinda.

Hawth. Why, what's the matter?

Ros. I don't know, but I have reason to fear I left her just now in very disagreeable circumstances: however, I hope, if there's any mischief fallen out between her father and her lover

Hawth. The music-master! I thought so.

Sir Will. What, is there a lover in the case? May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, so I am; for we'll make a double wedding; and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to London, to show the brides some of the pleasures of the town. And, Master Hawthorn, you shall be of the party-Come, children, go before us.

Hawth. Thank you, Sir William; I'll go into the house with you, and to church to see the young folks married; but as to London, I beg to be excused.

AIR XXXIX.

If ever I'm catch'd in those regions of smoke,
That seat of confusion and noise,

May I ne'er know the sweets of a slumber unbroke,
Nor the pleasure the country enjoys,

Nay more, let them take me, to punish my sin,
Where, gaping, the Cockneys they fleece,

Clap me up with their monsters, cry, master walk in,
And show me for two-pence a piece.