Lads and lasses, all advance,

O Carol blithe, and form the dance;
Trip it lightly while you may,
This is Nature's holiday.

Cho. Trip it lightly while you may,
This is Nature's holiday.

[All rise; the Dancers come down the Stage through the Sheaves of Corn, which are removed; the Dance begins, and finishes

AIR.

Sweet transports, gentle wishes go!

In vain his charms have gain'd my heart;
Since fortune, still to love a foe,
And cruel duty, bid us part.
Ah! why does duty chain the mind,
And part those souls which love has join'd?|
Enter WILLIAM.

Pray, William, do you know of any body
that has lost a purse?

Will. I knows nothing about it.

Ros. Dorcas, however, has found one.
Will. So much the better for she.

If chance some fairing caught her eye,
The riband gay or silken glove,
With eager haste I ran to buy;
For what is gold compar'd to love?
My posy on her bosom plac'd,
Could Harry's sweeter scents exhale!
Her auburn locks my riband grac'd,
And flutter'd in the wanton gale.
With scorn she hears me now complain,
Nor can my rustic presents move:
Her heart prefers a richer swain,
And gold, alas! has banish'd love.
Will. [Coming back] Let's part friendly

Ros. You will oblige me very much if you howsomever. Bye1), Phœbe: I shall always will carry it to Mr. Belville, and beg him to keep it till the owner is found.

Will. Since you desire it, I'll go: it shan't be the lighter for my carrying. Ros. That I am sure of, William.

Enter PHOEBE.

[Exit.

Pho. That's a copy of his countenance, I'm sartin; he can no more help following me nor he can be hang'd.

[Aside. William crosses again, singing. Of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, The maid of the mill, for me.

Pho. I'm ready to choke wi' madness; but
I'll not speak first, an I die for't.

[William sings, throwing up his Stick
and catching it.
Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in
the hedge,

Her face like the blossoms in May. Pho. I can't bear it no longer-you vile, ungrateful, parfidious-But it's no matterI can't think what I could see in you-Harry loves me, and is a thousand times more hand

wish you well.

Pho. Bye, William.

[Cries, wiping her Eyes with her Apron. Will. My heart begins to melt a little. [Aside] I lov'd you very well once, Phœbe: but you are grown so cross, and have such vagaries

Pho. I'm sure I never had no vagaries with you, William. But go; mayhap Kate may be angry.

Will. And who cares for she? I never minded her anger, nor her coaxing neither, till you were cross to me. Pho. [Holding up her Hands] O the father! I cross to you, William?

Will. Did not you tell me, this very morning, as how you had done wi' me?

Pho. One word's as good as a thousand. Do you love me, William?

Will. Do I love thee? Do I love dancing on the green better than thrashing in the barn? Do I love a wake; or a harvest-home? Pho. Then I'll never speak to Harry again the longest day I have to live.

Will. I'll turn my back o'the miller's maid the first time I meet her.

Pha. Will you indeed, and indeed?
Will. Marry will 1; and more nor that,
I'll go speak to the parson this moment-I'm
happier-zooks, I'm happier nor a lord or a
squire of five hundred a year.

DUETT.-PHOEBE and WILLIAM.
Pho. In gaudy 'courts, with aching hearts,
The great at fortune rail:
The bills may higher honours claim,
But peace is in the vale.

somer. [Sings, sobbing at every Word. Will.

Of all the gay wrestlers that spost on the green,
Young Harry's the lad for me.

him?

Will. He's yonder a reaping: shall I call [Offers to go. Both. Pho. My grandmother leads me the life of a dog; and it's all along of you.

Will. Well, then she'll be better temper'd

See high-born dames, in rooms of state,
With midnight revels pale;
No youth admires their fading charms,
For beauty's in the vale,

Amid the shades the virgin's sighs
Add fragrance to the gale:
So they that will may take the hill,
Since love is in the vale.

[Exeunt, Arm in Arm. Enter BELVILLE.

Bel. I tremble at the impression this lovely girl has made on my heart. My cheerfulness has left me, and I am grown insensible even to the delicious pleasure of making those happy who depend on my protection.

Light as thistle-down moving, which floats on
the air,

Sweet gratitude's debt to this cottage I bear:
Of autumn's rich store I bring home my part,
The weight on my head, but gay joy in my

heart.

Bel. To what motive do I owe this tender attention?

Ros. Ah, sir! do not the whole village love you?

Bel. You tremble; why are you alarm'd?

DUETT.-BELVILLE and ROSINA. Bel. [Taking her Hand] For you, my sweet maid, nay, be not afraid,

[ilos, withdraws her Hand. feel an affection which yet wants a name. Ros. When first-but in vain-I seek to explain,

What heart but

must love you? I blush, fear, and shame

Bel. Why thus timid, Rosina? still safe by my side,

Let me be your guardian, protector, and guide,
Ros. My timid heart pants-still safe by
your side,

Be you my protector, my guardian, îny guide.
Bel. Why thus timid. etc.
Ros. My timid heart pants, etc.

Bel. Unveil your mind to me, Rosina. The graces of your form, the native dignity of What do I see? Mr. Belville asleep? I'll your mind which breaks through the lovely steal softly-at this moment I may gaze on simplicity of your deportment, a thousand him without blushing. [Lays down the Corn, circumstances concur to convince me you and walks softly up to him] The sun points were not born a villager. full on this spot; let me fasten these branches Ros. To you, sir, I can have no reserve. together with this riband, and shade him from A pride, I hope an honest one, made me its beams-yes-that will do-But if he should wish to sigh in secret over my misfortunes. wake-[Takes the Riband from her Bosom, and ties the Branches together] How my heart beats! One look more — -Ah! I have

wak'd him.

[She flies, and endeavours to hide her-
self against the Door of the Cottage,
turning her Head every instant.
Bel. What noise was that?

Bel. [Eagerly] They are at an end. Ros. Dorcas approaches, sir! she can best relate my melancholy story.

Enter DORCAS.

Dor. His honour here? Good lack! How sorry I am I happen'd to be from home. Troth, I'm sadly tir'd.

[Half raising himself. Ros. He is angry-How unhappy I am!-moment alone, Dorcas? How I tremble! [Aside. Dor. Rosina, take this basket.

Bel. Will you let me speak with you a

Bel. This riband I have seen before, and on the lovely Rosina's bosom

[Exit Rosina, with the Basket. Bel. Rosina has referr'd me to you, Dor[He rises, and goes toward the Cottage. cas, for an account of her birth, which I have Ros. I will hide myself in the house. [Ro-long suspected to be above her present situasina, opening the Door, sees Capt. Belville, tion.

and starts back] Heavens! a man in the house! Dor. To be sure, your honour, since the Capt. B. Now, love assist me! dear child gives me leave to speak, she's of as [Comes out and seizes Rosina; she breaks good a family as any in England. Her mofrom him, and runs affrighted across ther, sweet lady, was my bountiful old master's the Stage; Belville follows; Captain daughter, squire Welford, of Lincolnshire. His Belville, who comes out to pursue her, estate was seiz'd for a mortgage of not half sees his Brother, and steals off at the its value, just after young madam was other Scene; Belville leads Rosina back. ried, and she ne'er got a penny of her porBel. Why do you fly thus, Rosina? What tion. can you fear? You are out of breath.

Bel. And her father?

mar

Ros. O, sir!-my strength fails-[Leans Dor. Was a brave gentleman too, a coloon Belville, who supports her in his Arms] nel. His honour went to the Eastern Indies, Where is he?-A gentleman pursued me- to better his fortune, and madam would go [Looking round. with him. The ship was lost, and they, with Bel. Don't be alarm'd, 'twas my brother-all the little means they had, went to the he could not mean to offend you. bottom. Young madam Rosina was their onRos. Your brother! Why then does he ly child; they left her at school; but when not imitate your virtues? Why was he here? this sad news came, the mistress did not care Bel. Forget this: you are safe. But tell me, for keeping her, so the dear child has shar'd Rosina, for the question is to me of import- my poor morsel. ance, have I not seen you wear this riband? Ros. Forgive me, sir; I did not mean to disturb you. I only meant to shade you from the too great heat of the sun,

Bel. But her father's name?
Dor. Martin; colonel Martin.

Bel. I am too happy; he was the friend of my father's heart: a thousand times have

I heard him Jament his fate. Rosina's virtues | offended almost past forgiveness. Will the shall not go unrewarded.

Dor. Yes, I know'd it would be so. Heaven never forsakes the good man's children. Bel. I have another question to ask you, Dorcas, and answer my sincerely, is her heart free?

offer of my hand repair the injury?

Bel. If Rosina accepts it, I am satisfied. Ros. [To Belville] Will you, sir, suffer? This hope is a second insult. Whoever offends the object of his love is unworthy of obtaining her.

Bel. This noble refusal paints your charac

Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of our young men come a near her; and yet-ter. I know another, Rosina, who loves you Bel. Speak: I am on the rack. with as strong, though purer ardour:—but if

Dor. I'm afeard-she mopes and she pines allowed to hope-
But your honour would be angry

afeard the captain—

- I'm

Ros. Do not, sir, envy me the calm delight of passing my independent days with Bel. Then my foreboding heart was right. Dorcas; in whom I have found a mother's [Aside. tenderness.

Enter RUSTIC.

Rust. Help, for heaven's sake, sir! Rosina's lost-she is carried away→

Bel. Rosina!

Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE. Capt. B. [Confusedly] Don't be alarmed— let me go-I'll fly to save her.

Bel. With me, sir-I will not lose sight of you. Rustic, hasten instantly with our reapers. Dorcas, you will be our guide. [Exit. Rust. Don't be frightened, sir; the Irishmen have rescued her: she is just here.

Enter the Two Irishmen.

Dor. Bless thee, my child; thy kindness melts my heart.

Bel. Do you refuse me too then, Rosina? [Rosina raises her Eyes tenderly on Belville, lowers them again, and leans on Dorcas.

Dor. You, sir? You?

Ros. My confusion-my blushes-
Bel. Then I am happy! My life! my Rosina!
Pho. Do you speak to his honour, William.
Will. No; do you speak, Phœbe.

Pho. I am asham'd-William and I, your honour-William pray'd me to let him keep [Exit. me company-so he gain'd my good will to have him; if so be my grandmother consents.

1 Irish. [To Dorcas] Dry your tears, my jewel; we have done for them.

Dor. Have you sav'd her? I owe you more than life.

[Courtesying, and playing with her Apron. Will. If your honour would be so good to speak to Dorcas.

Bel. Dorcas, you must not refuse me any thing to-day. I'll give William a farm.

Dor Your honour is too kind-take her, William, and make her a good husband. Will. That I will, dame.

Will. Pha. [To Belville] Thank your honour.

Belville joins their Hands, they bow and courtesey.

1 Irish. Faith, good woman, you owe me
nothing at all. I tell your honour how it
was. My comrades and I were crossing the
meadow, going home, when we saw thera
first; and hearing a woman cry, I look'd up,
and saw them putting her into a skiff against
her will. Says 1, "Paddy, is not that the
clever little crater that was glaning in the
field with us this morning?"-"Tis so, sure
enough," says he.—“By St. Patrick," says I,
"there's enough of us to rescute 1) her." With
that we ran for the bare life, waded up to as you please.
the knees, laid about us bravely with our
shillelays 2), knock'd them out of the skiff,
and brought her back safe: and here she co-
mes, my jewel.

Re-enter RUSTIC, leading ROSINA, who throws
herself into DORCAS's Arms.
Dor. I canno' speak-Art thou safe?
Bel. I dread to find the criminal.
Rust. Your honour need not go far a field,
I believe; it must have been some friend of
the captain's, for his French valet commanded
the party.

Capt. B. I confess my crime; my passion for Rosina hurried me out of myself.

Bel. You have dishonour'd me, dishonour'd the glorious profession you have embrac'd

Will. What must I do with the purse, your honour? Dorcas would not take it. Bel. I believe my brother has the best right. Capt. B. 'Tis yours, William; dispose of it

Will. Then I'll give it to our honest Irishmen, who fought so bravely for our Rosina. Bel. You have made good use of it, William; nor shall my gratitude stop here.

Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother. When I am worthy of your esteem, I will return, and demand my rights in your affection.

Bel. You must not leave us, brother. Resume the race of honour; be indeed a soldier, and be more than my brother-be my friend.

Be.

FINALE.

To bless, and to be blest, be ours, Whate'er our rank, whate'er our powers;

But be gone, I renounce you as my brother, Capt. B. On some her gifts kind fortune

and renounce my ill-plac'd friendship.
Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have

1) Rescue.

2) Oak-sticks.-The Irish are famous for the use of the stick; it is generally a piece of oak, and the regular size is as big round as their wrist, and the exact length their arm.

Comic Opera, by Isaak Bickerstaff. Acted 1762, at Covent Garden. This performance, though compiled from Charles Johnson's Village Opera, Wycherley's Gentleman Dancing-Master, Marivaux's Jeu de l'Amour et du Hasard, and other musical pieces, yet met with so much favour from the town, that it was acted the first season almost as many times as The Beggar's Opera had formerly been, and nearly with as much success. It certainly has the merit of being inoffensive in its tendency, probable in its incidents, spirited in its action, agreeable for its ease and regularity, and natural in the delineation of character,

SCENE I-A Garden, with Statues, Foun

tains, and Flower-pots.

Several Arbours appear in the side Scenes; ROSETTA and LUCINDA are discovered at work, seated upon two Garden-chairs.

DUETT.

Ros. HOPE! thou nurse of young desire,
Fairy promiser of joy,

Painted vapour, glowworm fire,
Temp'rate sweet, that ne'er can cloy:
Luc. Hope! thou earnest of delight,
Softest soother of the mind,
Balmy cordial, prospect bright,
Surest friend the wretched find:

Both. Kind deceiver, flatter still,

Deal out pleasures unpossest;
With thy dreams my fancy fill,
And in wishes make me blest.

Luc. Heigho!-Rosetta!

For shame, you a lover!
More firmness discover;

Take courage, nor here longer mope;
Resist and be free,

Run riot, like me,

And, to perfect the picture, elope.
Luc. And is this your advice?
Ros. Positively.

Luc. Here's my hand; positively I'll follow it-I have already sent to my gentleman, who, is now in the country, to let him know he may come hither this day; we will make use of the opportunity to settle all preliminaries— And then-But take notice, whenever we decamp, you march off along with us.

Ros. Oh! madam, your servant; I have no inclination to be left behind, I assure youBut you say you got acquainted with this spark, while you were with your mother during her last illness at Bath, so that your father has never seen him.

Luc. Never in his life, my dear; and, I am Ros. Well, child, what do you say? confident, he entertains not the least suspicion Luc. 'Tis a sad thing to live in a village a of my having any such connexion: my aunt, hundred miles from the capital, with a pre- indeed, has her doubts and surmises; but, beposterous gouty father, and a superannuated sides that my father will not allow any one maiden aunt.-I am heartily sick of my situation. to be wiser than himself, it is an established Ros. And with reason-But 'tis in a great maxim between these affectionate relations, measure your own fault: here is this Mr. never to agree in any thing. Eustace, a man of character and family; he likes you, you like him: you know one another's minds, and yet you will not resolve to make yourself happy with him.

AIR.

Whence can you inherit
So slavish a spirit?

Confin'd thus, and chain'd to a log!
Now fondled, now chid,
Permitted, forbid:

'Tis leading the life of a dog.

Ros. Except being absurd; you must allow they sympathize perfectly in that- But, now we are on the subject, I desire to know what I am to do with this wicked old justice of peace, this father of yours? He follows me about the house like a tame goat.

Luc. Nay, I'll assure you he hath been a wag in his time — you must have a care of yourself.

་

Ros. Wretched me! to fall into such hands, who have been just forced to run away from my parents to avoid an odious marriage

96