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sider that, and judge of me by yourself; you And all their discourse is of marriage. were once young and inexperienced as I am.
Exit Mrs. D. This is mighty pretty, romantic
SCENE II.- A Greenhouse. stuff! but you learn it out of your play-books and novels. Girls in my time had other em
Enter Young MEADOWS. ploynients, we worked at our needles, and Young M. I am glad I had the precaution kept ourselves from idle thoughts: before I was to bring this suit of clothes in my bundle, your age, I had finished with my own fingers though I hardly know myself in them again, à complete set of chairs and a firescreen in they appear so strange, and feel so unweildy. tent-stitch; four counterpanes in Marseilles However, my gardener's jacket goes quilting; and the creed and the ten command- more. - I wonder this girl does not come; ments in the bair of our family: it was fram'd [Looking at his Watch] perhaps sbe won't and glaz'd, and hung over the parlour chim-come.-Wby, then I'll go into the village, ney-piece, and your poor, dear grandfather take a post-chaise, and depart without any was prouder of it than of e'er a picture in further ceremony. his house. I never looked into a book, but
A I R. when I said my prayers, except it was the Complete Housewife, or the great family re How much superior beauty awes, ceipt-book: whereas you are always at your
The coldest bosoms find; studies! Ah, I never knew a woman come to But with resistless force it draws, good, that was fond of reading.
To sense and sweetness join'd. Luc. Well pray, madam, let me prevail on The casket, where, to outward show, you to give me the key to let Mr. Eustace The workman's art is seen, out, and I promise I never will proceed a step Is doubly valu’d, when we know further in this business without your advice It holds a gem within. and approbation.
Hark! sbe comes. Mrs. D. llave I not told you already, my Enter Sir William Meadows and Hawresolution ? - Where are my clogs and my boanet? I'll go out to my brother in the fields; I'm a fool, you know, child; now let's see Young M. Confusion! my father! What can what the wils will think of themselves-Don't this mean? hold me
[Exit. Sir W. Tom, are not you a sad boy, Tom, Luc. I'm not going; I have thought of a to bring me a bundred and forty miles bere way to be even with you, so you may do as-May I never do an ill turn, but you deserve you please.
[Exit to have your head broke; and I have a good Hodge. Well, I thought it would come to mind, partly-Whal, sirrab, don't you ibink this, I'll be shot if I didn'ı-So here's a fine it worih your while to speak to me? job - But what can they do to me? - They Young M. Forgive me, sir; I own I have can't send me to gaol for carrying a letter, been in a fault. seeing there was no treason in it; and how Sir W. In a fault! to run away from me was I obligated to know my master did not because I was going to do you good-May ! allow of their meetings:- The worst they can never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if I did do is to turn me off, and I am sure the place not pick out as fine a girl for him, parily, as is no such great purchase-indeed, I should any in England ! and the rascal run away be sorry to leave Mrs. Rosetta, seeing as how from me, and came here and turn'd gardener. malters are so near being brought to an end And pray what did you propose to yourself
, betwixt us; but she and I may keep company Tom? I know you were always fond of boall as one; and I find Madge has been speaking tany, as they call it; did you intend to keep with Gaffer Broadwheels, the waggoner, about the trade going, and advertise fruit-trees and her carriage up to London: so that I have got flowering-shrubs, to be bad at Meadows' rid of she, and I am sure I have reason to be nursery? main glad of it, for she led me a wearisome Haw. No, sir William, I apprehend the life-But that's the way of them all. young gentleman designed to lay by the pro
lession; for he has quilted the habit already
Young M. I am so astonished to see you A plague o'these wenches, they make such here, sir, ibat I don't know what to say: but a pother,
I assure you, if you had not come, I should When once they have let'n a man have have returned home to you directly. Pray, his will;
sir, how did you find me out? They're always a whining for something or Sir W. No matter, Tom, no matter: it was other,
partly by accident, as a body may say; but And cry he's unkind in his carriage. what does that signify? - tell me, boy, bow What tho'l he speaks them ne'er so fairly, stands your stomach towards matrimony: do Still they keep teazing, tearing on: you think you could digest a wife now? You cannot persuade 'em
Young M. Pray, sir, don't mention it: I shall Till promise you've made 'em; always behave myself as a dutiful sou ought: And after they've got it,
I will never marry without your consent, and They tell you-add rot it,
I hope you won't force me to do it against Their character's blasted, they're ruin'd, un- my own. done:
Sir W. Is nolibis mighty provoking, master Then to be sure, sir,
Hawthorn? Why, sirrah, did you ever see the There is but one cure, sir, lady I designed for you?
A I R.
Young M. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's me-, kind of embarrassment, and I don't wonder rit; but, at present, I am not disposed at it; but this letter, which I received from
Haw. Nay but, young gentleman, fair and him a few days before I left my father's house, softly; you should pay some respect to your will
, I apprehend, expound ihe riddle. He father in this matter.
cannot be surprised that I ran away from a Sir W. Respect, master Hawthorn! I tell gentleman who expressed so much dislike to you be shall marry her, or I'll disinherit bim! me; and what has happened, since chance There's once. Look you, Tom, not to make bas brought us together in masquerade, there any more words of the matter, I have brought is no occasion for me to inform bim of. the lady here with :ne, and I'll see you con Young M. What is all this? Pray don't tracted before we part; or you shall delve and make a jest of me! plant cucumbers as long as you live.
Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, Young M. Have you brought the lady here, if it is not truth! this is my friend's daughter. sir? I am sorry for it.
Young M. Sir! Sir W. Why sorry? What, then, you won't Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In marry her? We'll see that! Pray, master Haw- short, you have not been a more whimsical thorn, conduct the fair one in. Ay, sir, you gentleman, than I have a gentlewoman; but may frel and dance about, trot at the rate of you see we are designed for one another, fifteen miles an hour, if you please; but, marry 'lis plain. whip me, I'm resolved.
Young M. I know not, madam, what I ei
ther hear or see; a thousand things are crowdEnter RosetTA.
ing on my imagination; while, like one just Haw. Here is the lady, sir William. awakened from a dream, I doubt which is
Sir W. Come in, niadam; but turn your reality, which delusion. face from him he would not marry you be Sir W. Well then, Tom, come into the cause he had not seen you: but I'll let him air a bit, and recover yourself. know my choice shall be his, and be shall Young M. Nay, dear sir, have a little paconsent io marry you before he sees you, or tience; do you give her to me? not an acre of estate Pray, sir, walk this Sir W. Give her to you! ay, that I do,' way.
and my blessing into the bargain. Young M. Sir, I cannot help thinking your Young M. Then, sir, I am ibe happiest man conduct a little extraordinary; but, since you in the world! I inquire no further; here I fix urge me so closely, I must tell you my af- the utmost limits of my hopes and happiness. fections are engaged.
Sir W. How, Tom, how?
Young M. l' was determined, sir, lo have Young M. All I wish in her obtaining, got the beiter of my irclination, and never
Fortune can no more impart: have done a thing which I knew would be
Ros. Let my eyes, my thoughts explaining, disagreeable to you.
Speak the feelings of my heart. Sir W. And pray, sir, who are your affee-Young M. Joy and pleasure never ceasing, tions engaged to ? 'Let me know thal.
Ros. Love with length of years increasing, Young M. To a person, sir, whose rank Together. Thus my heart and hand surrender, and fortune may be no recommendation to
Here my faith and truth I plight; her, but whose charms and accomplishments
Constant still, and kind and iender, entitle her to a monarch. I am sorry, sir,
May our flames burn ever bright! it's impossible for me to comply with your Haw. Give you joy, sir; and you, fair lady commands, and I hope you will not be of- -And, under favour, I'll salute you too, if fended if I quit your presence.
there's no fear of jealousy. Sir W. Not ), not in the least: go about Young M. And may I believe this? Pr'ythee
tell me, dear Roselta! Young M. Sir, I obey.
Ros. Step into the house, and I'll tell you Haw. Now, madam; is the time.
every thing; I must entreat the good offices [Rosetta advances. Young Meadows turns of sir William and Mr. Hawthorn immediaround and sees her.
tely; for I am in the utmost uneasiness about
my poor friend, Lucinda.
Haw. Why, what's the matter?
Ros. I don't know; but I have reason to
And repay him love for love. circumstances: however I hope if there's any Sir W. Well, Tom, will you go away from mischief fallen out between her father and me now?
her loverHaw. Perhaps, sir William, your son does Haw. The music-master! I thought so. not like the lady; and, if so, pray don't put Sir W. What, is there a lover in the case ? a force upon bis inclination.
May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, Young M. You need not have taken this so I am! for we'll make a double wedding; method, sir, to let me see you are acquainted and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to with my folly, wbalever my inclinations are. London, to show the brides some of the plea
Sir W. Well but, Tom, suppose I give my sures of the town. And, master Hawthorn, consent to your marrying this young woman? you shall be of the party-Cone, children, go Young M. Your consent, sir?
before us. Ros. Come, sir William, we have carried Haw. Thank you, sir William ; I'll go inthe jest far enough: I see your son is in al the house with you, and to church to see
folks married; but as to London, beartily your servant; may I never do an ill I beg to be excused.
turn, but I am glad to meet you.
Jus. IV. Pray, sir William, are you acIf ever I'm catch'd in those regions of smoke, quainted with this person? That seat of confusion and noise,
Sir W. What, with Jack Eustace? why May I ne'er know the sweets of a slumber he's my kinsman: his mother and I were couunbroke,
sin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very Nor the pleasure the country enjoys. worthy, young fellow; may I never do an isl Nay more, let them take me, to punish my sin, turn, if I tell a word' of a lie.
Where, gaping, the cocknies they fleece; Jús. W. Well but, sir William, let me tell Clap me up with their monsters, cry, masters you, you know nothing of the matter; this walk in,
man is a music-master; a thrummer of wire, And show me for twopençe a - piece. and a scraper of catgut, and teaches my daugh
[Exeunt. ter to sing
Sir W. What, Jack Eustace a music-master! SCENE III.-JUSTICE Woodcock's Hall.
no, no; I know him belter. Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, Mrs. DEBORAH Eust. 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to carWoodcock, LUCINDA, Eustace, and Hodge. ry on this absurd farce any longer ;-What
Mrs D. Why, brother, do you think that gentleman tells you is very true, sir; I can't hear, or see, or make use of my senses? am no music-master, indeed. I tell you, I left that fellow locked up in her Jus. W. You are not, you own it tben? closet; and, while I have been with you, they Eusk Nay more, sir, I am, as this lady has have broke open the door, and got bim out represented me, [Pointing to Mrs. Deborah] again.
your daughter's lover: whom, with her owa Jus. W. Well, you hear what they say. consent, I did intend to have carried off this
Mrs. D. I care not what they say, it's you night; but now that sir William Meadows encourage them in their impudence-Harkye, is here, to tell you who and what I am, I bussy, will you face me down that I did not throw myself upon 'your generosity; from lock the fellow up?
which I expect greater advantages than I could Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you reap from any imposition on your unsuspimean; wben
talk intelligibly, I'll answer cious nature. you.
Mrs. D. Well, brother, what have you to Eust. Seriously, madam, this is carrying say for yourself now? You have made a prethe jest a little too far.
cious day's work of it! Had my advice been Mrs. D. What, then, I did not catch you taken! Oh, I am ashamed of you; but you together in ber chamber, nor overhear your are a weak man, and it can't be helpd; bowdesign of going off to-night, nor find the ever, you should let wiser beads direct you. bundles packed up
Luc. Dear papa, pardon me. Eust. Ha, ha, ha.
Sir W. Ay, do, sir, forgive ber; my couLuc Why, aunt, you rave.
sin Jack will make her a good husband, [U Mrs. D. Brother, as I am a Christian wo-answer for it. man, she confessed the whole affair to me Ros. Stand out of the way, and let me from first to last; and in this very place was speak two or three words to his worshipdown upon
her marrow-bones for half an Come, my dear sir, though you refuse all the hour together, to beg I would concealit from you.world, I am sure you can deny me notbing: Hodge. Oh Lord! Oh Lord !
love is a venial fault-You know wbat I mean. Mrs. D. What, sirrah, would you brazen -Be reconciled to your daughter, I conjure me too! Take that.
[Boxes him. you, by the memory of our past affectionsHodge. I wish you would kecp your hands What, not a word? to yourself! you strike me, because you have
AIR, been telling his worship stories.
Go, naughly man, I can't abide you; Jus. W. Why, sister, you are tipsy!
Are then our vows so soon forgot? Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother! - 1-ihát never Ab! now I see if I had tried you, touch a drop of any thing strong from year's What would have been my hopeful lot. end to year's end; but now and then a little
But here I charge you-Make them happy; anniseed water, when I have got the colic. Luc. Well, aunt, you bave been complain- Come, be a dear, good natur'd pappy,
Bless the fond pair, and crown their bliss: ing of the stomach-ach all day; and may have
And I'll reward you with a kiss. taken too powerful a dose of your cordial.
Jus. W. Come, come, I see well enough Mrs. D. Come, turn out of the house, and how it is; this is a lie of her own invention, be thankful that my brother does not bang ty make herself appear wise: but, you simple-you, for he could do it; he's a justice of ton, did you not know I must find you out?peace;-turn out of the bouse, I say:-
Jus. W. Who gave you authority to turn Enter Sir William Meadows, Hawthorn, bim out of the house? -be shall stay where Rosetta, and young MEADOWS.
he is. Young M. Bless me, sir! look who is yonder. Mrs. D. He shan't marry my niece. Sir W. Cocksbones, Jack, honest Jack, are Jus. W. Shan't he! but rll show you the
difference now; I say be shall marry her, Eust. Plague on't, this rencounter is un- and what will you do about it? lucky-Sir William, your servant.
Mrs. D. And you will give him your estate Sťr W. Your servant, again; and again, too, will you?
Jus. W. Yes, I will.
to make up the company of your statute ball; Mrs. D. Why I'm sure he's a vagabond. yonder's music too, I see; shall we enjoy
Jus. W. I like him the better; I would have ourselves?
Enter Villagers, etc.
Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, but I children, I say, say so too.
Jus. W. Here, young fellow, take my daugh- Hence with cares, complaints, and frowning, ter, and bless you both together; but hark Welcome jollity and joy; you, no money till I die, Sister Deborah, Ev'ry grief in pleasure drowning, you're a fool.
Mirth this happy night employ: Mrs. D. Ah brother, broiher, you're a silly Let's to friendship do our duty, old man.
Laugh and sing some good old strain; Haw. Adds me, sir, here are some of your Drink a health to love and beautyneighbours come to visit you, and I suppose May they long in triumph reign.
THE MAID OF THE MILL, Com. Opera, by leaac Bickerstaffe. Acted at Covent Garden 1765. This is taken from Richardson's novel of Pamela, and ran thirty-five nights. In the year 1782, Mr. O'Keeffe added several airs to it, with which it was revived with applause. It has since been reduced to an asterpiece, and performed in that state at Covent Garden. It has been observed, that, "like Pumelu, this is one of those delusions which frequently destroy the proper subordination of society, The village beauty, whose simplicily and innocence are her native charms, smilten with the reveries of rank and splendonr, becomes affected and retired, disdaining her situation and every one about her, "--We do not believe, however, that many instances of this could be adduced.
says to sbe.
| no doubt but you'll find enow for a body to do. SCENE I. - A rural Prospect, with a Mill
Fair. What dost mutter? Is't not a strange at Work. Several People employed
plague that thou canst never go about any about it; on one Side a House, PATTY read thing with a good will; murrain iake it, what's
o'er the boy? Sa then thou wilt not ing in the Window; on the other a Barn, where Fanny sits mending a Net; Gites set a band to what I have desired thee? appears at a distance in the Mill; Fair
Ralph. Why don't you speak to suster FIELD and Ralph taking Sacks from a she came home to us, after my old lady's
Pat do do some thing then? I thought when Cart.
death, she was to have been of some use in
the house; but instead of that, she sits there Free from sorrow, free from strife,
all day, reading outlandish books, dressed like O bow blest the miller's life!
a fine madumasel; and the never a word you Cheerful working through the day, Still he laughs and sings away.
Fair. Sirrah, don't speak so disrespectfully Nought can vex him,
of thy sister; thou wilt never have the tithe Nought perplex him,
of her deserts. While there's grist to make him gay.
Ralph. Why, I'll read and write with her DUETT.
for what she dares; and as for playing on Let the great enjoy the blessings
the bapsichols ?), I thinks her rich godmother By indulgent fortune sent:
might have learn'd her something more proWhat can wealth, can grandeur offer, perer, sceing she did not remember to leave More than plenty and content?
her a legacy at last. Fair. Well done, well done; 'lis a sure Fair. That's none of thy business, sirrab. sign work goes on merrily when folks singl Ralph. A farmer's wife painting pictures, at it. Stop the mill there; and dost hear, and playing on the hapsicols; why I'll be son Ralph, boist yon sacks of flour upon this bang'd now, for all as old as she is, if she cart, lad, and drive it up to lord Aimworth's: knows any more about milking a cow,
than coming from London last night with strange I do of sewing a pellicoat. company, no doubt there are calls enough for Fair. Ralph, thou hast been drinking this it by this time.
morning. Ralph. Ay, feyther, whether or not, there's 1) Harpsichorda
Ralph. Well, if so be as I have, it's no Fair. Well, Patty, master Goodman, my thing out of your pockel, nor mines neither. lord's steward bas been with me just now,
Fair. Who has been giving thee liquor, and I find we are like to have great doings; sirrah?
his lordship has brought down sir Harry SyRalph. Why it was wind ?)—a gentleman camore and his family, and there is more
company expected in a few days. Fair. A gentleman!
Pat. I know sir Harry very well; he is by Ralph. Yes, a gentleman that's come piping marriage a distant relation of my lord's. hot from London: he is below at the Cat and Fair. Pray what sort of a young body is the Bagpipes; Icod he rides a choice bit of a nag. daughter there? I think she used 10 be with you I dare to say she'd fetch as good as forly at the castle, three or four summers ago, when pound at ever a fair in all England. my young lord was out upon his travels.
Fair. A fig's end for what she'd fetch; mind Pat. Oh! very often; she was a great fathy business, or by the lord Harry
vourite of my lady's: pray, father, is she Ralph. Why I won't do another hand's come down? turn to-day now, so that's flat.
Fair. Why you know the report last night, Fuir. Thou wilt nol
about my lord's going to be married. By Ralph. Why no I wont; so what argufies what I can learn she is; and there is likely your putting yourself in a passion, fey ther? to be a nearer relationship between the fa I've promised to go back to the gentleman; milies, ere long. It seems bis lordship was and I don't know but what he's a lord loo; not over willing for the match, but the friends and may bap he may do more for me than you on both sides in London pressed it so hard: thinks of.
then there's a swinging forlune: master GoodFair. Well, son Ralph, run thy. gait; but man tells me, a malier of twenty or thirty remember I tell thee, ihou wilt repent this thousand pounds. untowardness.
Pat. If it was a million, faiber, it would Ralph. Why, how shall I repent il? May- not be more than my lord Aimworih deserhap you'll turn me out of your service; aves; I suppose the wedding will be celebrated match; with all hearts-- Icod I don't care three here at the mansion-house. brass pins.
Fair. So it is thought, as soon as things can be properly prepared And now,
Palty, If that's all you want, who the plague will if I could but see thee a little merry-Come, be sorry ?
bless thee, pluck up thy spirits-To be sure 'Twere belter by half to dig stones in a quarry; thou hast sustained, in ihc death of thy lady,
For my share, I'm weary of what is got by: a heavy loss; she was a parent to thee; nay, S'flesh!'here's such a racket, such scolding and better, inasmuch as she took thee when and coiling,
thou wert but a babe, and gare thee an eduYou're never content, but when folks are a toiling, cation which thy natural parents could not And drudging like horses from morning till afford to do. night.
Pat. Ah! dear father, don't mention what
perhaps has been my greatest misfortune. You think I'm afraid, but the diffrence to
Fair. Nay then, Pally, what's become of
all thy sense that people talk so much about? First yonder's your shovel; your sacks too 1-Bui I have something to say to thee which
I would bave thee consider seriously-I believe Henceforward take care of your matters who I need not tell thee, my child, that a young
maiden, after she is marriageable, especially it They're welcome to slave for your wages she has any thing about her lo draw people's
who need'em : Tol lol de rol lol, I have purchas'd my freedom, cross accidents; so that the sooner she's out of
notice, is liable to ill tongues, and a many And never hereafter shall work at the mill. harm's way the better. I say, then, a young
. woman's best safeguard is a good husband. Fair. Dear heart, dear heart! I protest this Now there is our neighbour, farmer Giles; ungracious boy puts me quite beside myself. he is a sober, honest, industrious, young felPalty, my dear, come down into the yard a low, an done of the wealthiest in these parts; little, and keep me company-and you, thieves, he is greatly taken with thee; and it is noi vagabonds, gipsies, out here! 'tis you de- the first time I have told thee I should be bauch my son. [Drives off Gipsies. glad to have him for a son-in-law.
Pat. And I have told you as often, father, Enter Party from the House.
I would submit myself entirely to your direlAIR.
tion; whatever you think proper for me is so. In love to pine and languish,
Fair. Why that's spoken like a dutiful, Yet know your passion vain;
sensible girl; get thee in, then, and leave me To harbour heart-felt anguish,
to manage it-Perhaps our neighbour Giles Yet fear to tell your paisı:
is not a gentleman; but what are the greatest What powers unrelenting,
part of our country gentlemen good for? Severer ills inventing,
Pat. Very true, faiber. [Exit into ihe Cottage. Can sharpen pangs like these;
Enter GILES. Where days and nights tormenting, Giles. Well, masler Fairfield, you and Yield not a moments casc ?
miss Pat have bad a long discourse Together; 1) The country way of pronouncing wine.
|did you tell her that I was come down?