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ready, that you may go back and forward, pretending you were struck blind by thunder with greater expedition. [Exit Fairfield. and lightning.
Let me fly-hence, tyrant fashion!
SCENE II.--A Village.
Ralph. What do you want with me, eh? Fan. Lord, I never knowed such a man as you are, since I com'd into the world; a body can't speak to you, but you falls straightways into a passion: I followed you up from the house, only you run so, there was no such a thing as overtaking you, and I have been waiting there at the back door ever so long.
Fan. Pray don't be angry, Ralph.
Ralph. Yes, but I will though: spread your cobwebs to catch flies; I am an old wasp, and don't value them a button.
When you meet a tender creature,
But if one you meet that's frow-ard,
'Tis to mend her ne'er the wit:
Ralph. Well, and now you may go and Heart alive, you're fairly quit. wait at the fore door, if you like it: but I fore- Fan. I wish I had a draught of water. I warn you and your gang not to keep lurk-don't know what's come over me; I have no ing about our mill any longer; for if you do, more strength than a babe: a straw would I'll send the constable after you, and have fling me down.-He has a heart as hard as you, every mother's skin, clapt into the county any parish officer; I don't doubt now but he gaol: you are such a pack of thieves, one can't would stand by and see me whipt himself; hang so much as a rag to dry for you: it was and we shall all be whipt, and all through my but the other day that a couple of them came means-The devil run away with the gentleinto our kitchen to beg a handful of dirty flour, man, and his twenty guineas too, for leading to make them cakes, and before the wench me astray: if I had known Ralph would have could turn about, they had whipped off three brass candlesticks and a pot-lid.
Fan. Well, sure it was not I.
Ralph. Then you know, that old rascal that you call father, the last time I catch'd him laying snares for the hares, I told him I'd inform the gamekeeper, and I'll expose all
Fan. Ah, dear Ralph, don't be angry with
Ralph. Yes, I will be angry with you-what do you come nigh me for?-You shan't touch me-There's the skirt of my coat, and if you do but lay a finger on it, my lord's bailiff is here in the court, and I'll call him and give you to him.
Fan. If you'll forgive me, I'll go down on my knees.
taken it so, I would have hanged myself before I would have said a word-but I thought he had no more gall than a pigeon.
O! what a simpleton was I,
To make my bed at such a rate!
No tears, alack,
Will call him back,
No tender words his heart allure;
My tongue through spite-
Ralph.. I tell you I won't-No, no, follow your gentleman; or go live upon your old fare, crows and polecats, and sheep that die of the rot; pick the dead fowl off the dung- Giles. Why, what the plague's the matter hills, and quench your thirst at the next ditch, with you? What do you scold at me for? I 'tis the fittest liquor to wash down such dain- am sure I did not say an uncivil word as I ties-skulking about from barn to barn, and do know of: I'll be judged by the young lady lying upon wet straw, on commons, and in if I did.
green lanes-go and be whipt from parish to Pat. 'Tis very well, farmer; all I desire is, parish, as you used to be. that you will leave the house: you see my Fan. How can you talk so unkind? father is not at home at present; when he is, Ralph. And see whether you will get what if you have any thing to say, you know where will keep you as I did, by telling of fortunes, to come. and coming with pillows under your apron, Giles. Enough said; I don't want to stay among the young farmers wives, to make be- in the house, not I; and I don't much care lieve you are a breeding, with the Lord Al-if I had never come into it.
mighty bless you, sweet mistress, you cannot Theo. For shame, farmer! Down on your tell how soon it may be your own case. You knees, and beg miss Fairfield's pardon for the know I am acquainted with all your tricks-outrage you have been guilty of
and how you turn up the whites of your eyes, Giles. Beg pardon, miss, for what? — Icod,
that's well enough; why I am my own master, and equip myself-All here is in such conben't I?-If I have no mind to marry, there's fusion, there will no notice be taken. no harm in that, I hope: 'tis only changing Mer. Do so; I'll take care nobody shall inhands. This morning she would not have me, terrupt you in the progress of your metamorand now I won't have she. phosis [She goes in]-and if you are not Pat. Have you!-Heavens and earth! I tedious, we may walk off without being seen would prefer a state of beggary a thousand by any one. times beyond any thing I could enjoy with Theo. [Within] Ha, ha, ha!--What a conyou: and be assured, if ever I was seemingly course of atoms are here! though, as I live, consenting to such a sacrifice, nothing should they are a great deal better than I expected. have compelled me to it but the cruelty of my Mer. Well, pray make haste; and don't imagine yourself at your toilette now, where Giles. O, as for that I believes you; but mode prescribes two hours for what reason you see the gudgeon would not bite, as I told would scarce allow three minutes. you a bit agone, you know: we farmers never Theo. Have patience; the outward garment love to reap what we don't sow. is on already; and I'll assure you a very good Pat. You brutish fellow, how dare you talk-stuff, only a little the worse for the mending. Giles. So, now she's in her tantrums agin, Mer. Imagine it embroidery, and consider and all for no manner of yearthly thing. it is your wedding-suit.-Come, how far have Pat. But be assured my lord will punish you got? you severely for daring to make free with his
Giles. Who made free with it? Did I ever mention my lord? 'Tis a cursed lie.
Theo. Bless farmer! me,
Giles. Why it is, miss-and I'll make her prove her words-Then what does she mean by being punished? I am not afraid of nobody, nor beholding to nobody, that I know of; while I pays my rent, my money, I believe, is as good as another's:1) 'egad, if it goes there, I think there be those deserve to be punished more than I.
Pat. Was there ever so unfortunate a creature, pursued as I am by distresses and vexa
Theo. My dear Patty-See, farmer, you have thrown her into tears.
Giles. Why then let her cry.
Theo. Stay; you don't consider there's some contrivance necessary.-Here goes the apron, flounced and furbelow'd with a witness-Alas! alas! it has no strings! what shall I do? Come, no matter; a couple of pins will serve And now the cap-oh, mercy! here's a hole in the crown of it large enough to thrust my head through.
Mer. That you'll hide with your straw hat; or if you should not-What, not ready yet? Theo. One minute more-Yes, now the work's accomplish'd.
[She comes out of the Closet disguised.
Re-enter GILES, with FAIRFIEld.
Oh leave me, in pity! The falsehood I scorn; it is not advisable to change my condition
Re-enter THEODOSIA, with MERVIN. Theo. You are a pretty gentleman, are not you, to suffer a lady to be at a rendezvous before you?
Mer. Difficulties, my dear, and dangersNone of the company had two suits of apparel; so I was obliged to purchase a rag of one, and a tatter from another, at the expense of ten times the sum they would fetch at the paper-mill.
Fair. Friend Giles, thou art in the right; marriage is a serious point, and can't be considered too warily.-Ha, who have we here? -Shall I never keep my house clear of these vermin?-Look to the goods there, and give me a horsewhip-by the lord Harry, I'll make an example-Come here, lady Lightfingers, let me see what thou hast stolen.
Mer. Hold, miller, hold!
Fair. O gracious goodness! sure I know this face-miss-young madam SycamoreMercy heart, here's a disguise!
Mer. Miller, let me speak to you.
Giles. Il fortune-miss! I think there be
nothing but crosses and misfortunes of one kind or other.
Fair. Money to me, sir! not for the world; Theo. Well, where are they? you want no friends but what you have alMer. Here, in this bundle and though I ready-Lack-a-day, lack-a-day, see how luckily say it, a very decent habiliment, if you have I came in; I believe you are the gentleman to art enough to stick the parts together: I've whom I am charged to give this, on the part been watching till the coast was clear to bring of my lord Aimworth - Bless you, dear sir, them to you.
Theo. Let me see
-I'll slip into this
1) Symptoms of English liberty.
go up to his honour with my young ladycloset there is a chaise waiting at the door to carry you-I and my daughter will take another [Exit.
Mer. Pr'ythee read this letter, and tell me] Fair. My lord, I am very well content; think of it. you pray do not give yourself the trouble of sayTheo. Heavens, 'tis a letter from lord Aim-ing any more. worth! We are betrayed.
Ralph. No, my lord, you need not say
Fair. Hold your tongue, sirrah. Lord A. I am sorry, Patty, you have had this mortification.
Mer. By what means I know not. Theo. I am so frighted and flurried, that I have scarce strength enough to read it. [Reads. Sir, It is with the greatest concern I find that I have been unhappily the occa- Pat. I am sorry, my lord, you have been sion of giving some uneasiness to you and troubled about it. miss Sycamore: be assur'd, had I been ap- Fair. Well, come, children, we will not prised of your prior pretensions, and the take up his honour's time any longer; let us young lady's disposition in your favour, I be going towards home-Heaven prosper your should have been the last person to inter- lordship; the prayers of me and my family rupt your felicity. I beg, sig, you will do shall always attend you. me the favour to come up to my house, where I have already so far settled matters, as to be able to assure you, that every to command us? thing will go entirely to your satisfaction. Mer. Well, what do you think of it?-a Shall we go to the castle?
Theo. By all means: and in this very trim; to show what we are capable of doing, if my father and mother had not come to reason.
Lord A. Miller, come back-Patty, stay-
Lord A. Why yes, master Fairfield, I have word or two still to say to you-In short, though you are satisfied in this affair, I am not; and you seem to forget the promise I made you, that, since I had been the means of losing your daughter one husband, I would find her another.
[Exeunt Mervin and Theodosia. Giles. So, there goes a couple! Icod, I be- Fair. Your honour is to do as you please. lieve old Nick has got among the people in Lord A. What say you, Patty, will you these parts. This is as queer a thing as ever accept of a husband of my choosing? I heard of.-Master Fairfield and miss Patty, Pat. My lord, I have no determination: it seems, are gone to the castle too; where, you are the best judge how I ought to act; by what I larus from Ralph in the mill, my whatever you command, I shall obey. lord has promised to get her a husband among Lord A. Then, Patty, there is but one perthe servants. Now set in case the wind sets son I can offer you-and I wish, for your in that corner, I have been thinking with my-sake, he was more deserving-Take me self who the plague it can be: there are no Pat. Sir!
unmarried men in the family, that I do know Lord A. From this moment our interests of, excepting little Bob, the postillion, and are one, as our hearts; and no earthly power master Jonathan, the butler, and he's a mat- shall ever divide us.
ter of sixty or seventy years old. I'll be shot Fair. O the gracious! Patty-my lordif it beant little Bob.-Icod, I'll take the way Did I hear right?-You, sir, you marry a to the castle as well as the rest; for I'd fain child of mine!
see how the nail do drive. It is well I had Lord A. Yes, my honest old man, in me wit enough to discern things, and a friend to you behold the husband designed for your advise with, or else she would have fallen to daughter; and I am happy, that by standing my lot.—But I have got a surfeit of going a in the place of fortune, who has alone been courting; and burn me if I won't live a ba- wanting to her, I shall he able to set her chelor; for when all comes to all, I see no- merit in a light where its lustre will be renthing but ill blood and quarrels among folk dered conspicuous. that are maaried.
Then hey for a frolicsome life!
Plague on it, men are but asses,
Twould have prov'd a fine affair:
Fair. But good, noble sir, pray consider, don't go to put upon1) a silly old man: my daughter is unworthy-Patty, child, why don't you speak?
Pat. What can I say, father? what an swer to such unlook'd-for, such unmerited, such unbounded generosity?
Ralph. Down on your knees, and fall a crying.
[Ralph is checked by Fairfield, and they go up the Stage. Pat. Yes, sir, as my father says, consider [Exit-your noble friends, your relations-It must not, cannot be
Scene IV. - A grand Apartment in LORD AIMWORTH'S House, opening to a View of the Garden.
Enter LORD AIMWORTH, FAIRFIELD, PATTY,
Lord A. Thus, master Fairfield, I hope I have fully satisfied you with regard to the falsity of the imputation thrown upon your daughter and me
Lord A. It must and shall--Friends! relalions! from henceforth I have none, that will not acknowledge you; and I am sure, when they become acquainted with your perfections, they will rather admire the justice of my choice, than wonder at its singularity.
DUETT.-LORD AIMWORTH and PATTY.
In thee each grace possessing
One to my soul so dear;
Enter SIR HARRY, LADY SYCAMORE, THEO-
Giles. Ods bobs, where am I running-I beg pardon for my audacity.
Ralph. Hip, farmer; come back, mon, come back-Sure my lord's going to marry sister himself, feyther's to have a fine house, and I'm to be a captain.
Lord A. Ho, master Giles, pray walk in; here is a lady who, I dare say, will be glad to see you, and give orders that you shall always be made welcome,
Ralph. Yes, farmer, you'll always be welcome in the kitchen.
Lord A. What, have you nothing to say Sir H. Well, we have followed your lord- to your old acquaintance-Come, pray let the ship's counsel, and made the best of a bad farmer salute you-Nay, a kiss—Î insist upmarket-So, my lord, please to know our on it. son-in-law that is to be.
Lord A. You do me a great deal of honour -I wish you joy, sir, with all my heart. And now, sir Harry, give me leave to introduce to you a new relation of mine-This, sir, is shortly to be my wife.
Sir H. My lord!
Lady S. Your lordship's wife!
Lady S. And why so, my lord?
Lord A. Why, faith, ma'am, because I can't live happy without her-And I think she has too many amiable, too many estimable qualities to meet with a worse fate.
Sir H. Well, but you are a peer of the realm; you will have all the fleerers
Sir H. Ha, ha, ha-hem!
Lady S. Sir Harry, I am ready to sink at the monstrousness of your behaviour.
Lord A. Fie, master Giles, don't look so sheepish; you and I were rivals, but not less friends at present. You have acted in this affair like an honest Englishman, wo scorned even the shadow of dishonour, and thou shalt sit rent-free for a twelvemonth.
Sir H. Come, shan't we all salute-With your leave, my lord, I'll
Lady S. Sir Harry!
Lord A. Yield who will to forms a martyr,
Lord A. I know very well the ridicule that may be thrown on a lord's marrying a miller's daughter; and I own with blushes it has for some time had too great weight with me: but we should marry to please ourselves, not other people; and, on mature consideration, Theo. I can see no reproach justly merited by raising a deserving woman to a station she is capable of adorning, let her birth be what it will.
Sir H. Why 'tis very true, my lord. I once knew a gentleman that married his cook-maid: he was a relation of my own-You remember fat Margery, my lady. She was a very good Sir H. sort of woman, indeed she was, and made the best suet dumplings I ever tasted.
Lady S. Will you never learn, sir Harry, to guard your expressions?-Well, but give me leave, my lord, to say a word to you.There are other ill consequences attending such an alliance.
Lord A. One of them I suppose is, that I, a peer, should be obliged to call this good old miller father-in-law. But where's the shame in that? He is as good as any lord in being a man; and if we dare suppose a lord that is not an honest man, he is, in my opinion, the more respectable character. Come, master Fairfield, give me your hand; from henceforth you have done with working: we will pull down your mill, and build you a house in the place of it; and the money I intended for the portion of your daughter, shall now be laid out in purchasing a commission for
Have a right from man to claim.
So long storms and tempests raging,
Ralph. Captain Ralph my lord will dub me,
'Gad, I'll be a roaring blade,
And expos'd for folks to see't, 'Tis as tho'f a man repented For his follies in a sheet.
But my wrongs go unresented,
Since the fates have thought them meet;
GEORGE COLMAN JUNIOR
Is the son of the author of The Clandestine Marriage. With the precise time of his birth we are unacquainted; bat we suppose it to have been about the year 1767. He received his early education at Mr. Fountain's academy in Marybone, at that time in high estimation. He was next sent to Westminster School, and afterwards entered at Christchurh College, Oxford; but, for what reason we know not, he finished his education at King's College, Old Aberdeen; whence he returned to London, and was entered of the Temple; with the design, it is said, to qualify him for the bar. But if so, he early in life resigned Coke and Littleton in favour of the Muses. The consciousness of literary talents, and an easy access to the public through the medium of his father's theatre, naturally directed his attention to the drama; and his parent seemed to foster his genius; as he, in the prologue to the first play of his son's, announced him as "a chip of the old block." When his father was seized with that malady which rendered him incapable of superintending the theatre, Mr. Colman evinced a most commendable filial affection, by the great attention that he paid to him and to the interests of his theatre, On the death of his father, His Majesty was pleased to transfer the patent to him; and he has discharged the duties of manager with zeal and alacrity towards the public, and liberality towards authors and actors. In private life Mr. Colman is social, convivial, and intelligent; and in the playful contentions of wit and humour, and particularly that agreeable coruscation called repartee, he may perhaps be equalled, but, we think, has rarely been excelled. In his heroic pieces, we observe a poetical vigour, a form of language, and a cast of sentiment, that forcibly remind us of the very best of our ancient dramatic writers. In the spring of the year 1797, Mr. Colman published My Nightgown and Slippers, a thin quarto, consisting of some amusing poetical trifles. In prologue and epilogue, we cannot better compare Mr. Colman with any one than with the late Mr. Garrick. His compositions in this way are very abundant, and excellent in their kind.
INKLE AND YARICO,
Opera by George Colman jun. 1787. The great success of this Opera in every theatre in the Kingdom, since its first representation at the Haymarket, is justified by its real merit. The dialogue is not a collection of trite common places, to connect the music; but is replete with taste, judgment, and manly feeling; the allusions to slavery (now so nobly abolished) correspond with every British, every liberal, mind. The mal-à-propos offer of Inkle to sell his Yarico to Sir Christopher, is an admirable incident; and indeed all the characters are as forcibly drawn, that the most trifling part is effective. The pathetic story of Inkle and Yarico first attracted sympathy, from the narrative of Mr. Addison, in the Spectator: to that affecting story, Mr. Colman was indebted only for the cold, calculating Inkle; and the gentle, affectionate Yarico;-the rest of the characters and the developement of the whole are offspring of his abundant invention.
SCENE. First, on the Main of America: afterwards, in Barbadoes.
to bring all the natives about us; and we shall be stripped and plundered in a minute. Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first thing that would happen to us; for they seen to be Trudge. [Without] Hip! hollo! ho!-Hip!-woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself saw
SCENE I.-An American forest. Med. [Without] HILLI ho! ho!
three, at a distance, with less clothes than I Enter MEDIUM and TRudge. have when I get out of bed: all dancing about Med, Pshaw! it's only wasting time and in black buff; just like Adam in mourning. breath. Bawling won't persuade him to budge Med. This is to have to do with a schemer! a bit faster. Things are all altered now; and, a fellow who risques his life, for a chance of whatever weight it may have in some places, advancing his interest.-Always advantage in bawling, it seems, don't go for argument, here. view! trying, here, to make discoveries that Plague on't! we are now in the wilds of may promote his profit in England. Another America.
Trudge. Hip, hillio-ho-hi!
Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing else could induce him to quit our foraging party, Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or from the ship; when he knows every inhabi Trudge. Lord! sir, if my master makes no tant here is not only as black as a peppermore haste, we shall all be put to sword by corn, but as hot into the bargain—and I, like the knives of the natives. I'm told they take a fool, to follow him! and then to let him off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs in loiter behind. Why, nephew! why, Inkle! their parlours. Mercy on us! my head aches with the very thoughts of it. Holo! Mr. Inkle! master; holo!
Trudge. Why, Inkle-Well! only to see the difference of men! he'd have thought it Med. Head aches! zounds, so does mine very hard, now, if I had let him call so often with your confounded bawling. It's enough after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after