776 the young folks married; but as to London, heartily your servant; may I never do an ill turn, but I am glad to meet you. I beg to be excused. AIR. If ever I'm catch'd in those regions of smoke, unbroke, Nor the pleasure the country enjoys. And show me for twopence a-piece. [Exeunt. SCENE III-JUSTICE WOODCOCK'S Hall. Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, MRS. DEBORAH WOODCOCK, LUCINDA, EUSTACE, and HODGE. Mrs D. Why, brother, do you think I can't hear, or see, or make use of my senses? I tell you, I left that fellow locked up in her closet; and, while I have been with you, they have broke open the door, and got him out again. Jus. W. Pray, sir William, are you acquainted with this person? Sir W. What, with Jack Eustace? why he's my kinsman: his mother and I were cousin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very worthy young fellow; may I never do an ill turn, if I tell a word of a lie. Jus. W. Well but, sir William, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter; this man is a music-master; a thrummer of wire, and a scraper of catgut, and teaches my daughter to sing. Sir W. What, Jack Eustace a music-master! no, no; I know him better. Eust. 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to carry on this absurd farce any longer;-What that gentleman tells you is very true, sir; I am no music-master, indeed. Jus. W. You are not, you own it then? Eust. Nay more, sir, I am, as this lady has represented me, [Pointing to Mrs. Deborah] your daughter's lover: whom, with her own consent, I did intend to have carried off this Jus. W. Well, you hear what they say. Mrs. D. I care not what they say; it's you night; but now that sir William Meadows them in their impudence-Harkye, is here, to tell you who and what I am, 1 bussy, will you face me down that I did not throw myself upon your generosity; from which I expect greater advantages than I could łock the fellow up? Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you reap from any imposition on your unsuspiwhen you talk intelligibly, I'll answer cious nature. encourage mean; 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. Mrs. D. What, then, I did not catch you together in her chamber, nor overhear your design of going off to-night, nor find the bundles packed up Eust. Ha, ha, ha. Luc Why, aunt, you rave. cious day's work of it! Had my advice been taken! Oh, I am ashamed of you; but you are a weak man, and it can't be help'd; however, you should let wiser heads direct you. Luc. Dear papa, pardon me. Sir W. Ay, do, sir, forgive her; my cousin Jack will make her a good husband, I'l answer for it. Mrs. D. Brother, as I am a Christian woRos. Stand out of the way, and let me man, she confessed the whole affair to me from first to last; and in this very place was speak two or three words to his worship.down upon her marrow-bones for half an Come, my dear sir, though you refuse all the hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you. world, I am sure you can deny me nothing: love is a venial fault-You know what I mean. Hodge. Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Mrs. D. What, sirrah, would you brazen -Be reconciled to your daughter, I conjure [Boxes him. you, by the memory of our past affectionsme too! Take that. Hodge. I wish you would keep your hands What, not a word? to yourself! you strike me, because been telling his worship stories. have you Jus. W. Why, sister, you are tipsy! Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother!-I-that never touch a drop of any thing strong from year's end to year's end; but now and then a little anniseed water, when I have got the colic. Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complainand may have ing of the stomach-ach all day; cordial. your taken too powerful a dose of AIR. Go, naughty man, I can't abide you; Are then our vows so soon forgot? Ah! now I see if I had tried you, What would have been my hopeful lot. But here I charge you-Make them happy; Bless the fond pair, and crown their bliss: Come, be a dear, good natur'd pappy, And I'll reward you with a kiss. 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 hang ty make herself appear wise: but, you simple- you, for he could do it; he's a justice of not know I must find you out? peace;-turn out of the house, I say:ton, did you Jus. W. Who gave you authority to turn Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, him out of the house?-be shall stay where ROSETTA, and young MEADOWS. Young M. Bless me, sir! look who is yonder. Sir W. Cocksbones, Jack, honest Jack, are you there? Jus. W. Come, come, I see well enough Eust. Plague on't, this rencounter is unlucky-Sir William, your servant. he is. Mrs. D. He shan't marry my niece. Jus. W. Shan't he! but I'll show you the difference now; I say he shall marry her, and what will you do about it? Mrs. D. And you will give him your estate Sir W. Your servant, again; and again, too, will you? Com. Opera, by Izanc 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 afterpiece, and performed in that state at Covent Garden. It has been observed, that, "like Pamela, this is one of those delusions which frequently destroy the proper subordination of society. The village beauty, whose simplicity and innocence are her native charms, smitten with the reveries of rank and splendour, 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. ACT I. no doubt but you'll find enow for a body to do. Fair. What dost mutter? Is't not a strange SCENE I.A rural Prospect, with a Mill at Work. plague that thou canst never go about any Several People employed about it; on one Side a House, PATTY read thing with a good will; murrain take it, what's ing in the Window; on the other a Barn, come o'er the boy? So then thou wilt not where FANNY sits mending a Net; GILES set a hand to what I have desired thee? appears at a distance in the Mill; FAIR-Pat do do some thing then? I thought when Ralph. Why don't you speak to suster FIELD and RALPH taking Sacks from a Cart CHORUS. Free from sorrow, free from strife, DUETT. Let the great enjoy the blessings More than plenty and content? she came home to us, after my old lady's death, she was to have been of some use in the house; but instead of that, she sits there all day, reading outlandish books, dressed like a fine madumasel; and the never a word you says to she. Fair. Sirrab, don't speak so disrespectfully of thy sister; thou wilt never have the tithe of her deserts. Ralph. Why, I'll read and write with her for what she dares; and as for playing on the hapsichols 1), I thinks her rich godmother might have learn'd her something more properer, seeing she did not remember to leave her a legacy at last. Fair. That's none of thy business, sirrah. 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, hoist 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 petticoat. company, no doubt there are calls enough for it by this time. Ralph. Ay, feyther, whether or not, there's Fair. Ralph, thou hast been drinking this morning. 1) Harpsichord. Ralph. Well, if so be as I have, it's no- Fair. Well, Patty, master Goodman, my thing out of your pocket, nor mines neither. lord's steward has been with me just now, Fair. Who has been giving thee liquor, and I find we are like to have great doings; his lordship has brought down sir Harry Sycamore and his family, and there is more company expected in a few days. sirrah? Ralph. Why it was wind 1)-a gentleman guve me. Fair. A gentleman! Ralph. Yes, a gentleman that's come piping hot from London: he is below at the Cat and Bagpipes; Icod he rides a choice bit of a nag. I dare to say she'd fetch as good as forty pound at ever a fair in all England. Fair. A fig's end for what she'd fetch; mind thy business, or by the lord Harry Pat. I know sir Harry very well; he is by marriage a distant relation of my lord's. Fair. Pray what sort of a young body is the daughter there? I think she used to be with you at the castle, three or four summers ago, when my young lord was out upon his travels. Pat. Oh! very often; she was a great favourite of my lady's: pray, father, is she come down? By Ralph. Why I won't do another hand's turn to-day now, so that's flat. Fair. Why you know the report last night, Fair. Thou wilt notabout my lord's going to be married. Ralph. Why no I wont; so what argufies what I can learn she is; and there is likely your putting yourself in a passion, feyther? to be a nearer relationship between the faI've promised to go back to the gentleman; milies, ere long. It seems his lordship was and I don't know but what he's a lord too; not over willing for the match, but the friends and may hap he may do more for me than you on both sides in London pressed it so hard: thinks of. then there's a swinging fortune: master GoodFair. Well, son Ralph, run thy gait; but man tells me, a matter of twenty or thirty remember I tell thee, thou wilt repent this thousand pounds. untowardness. Pat. If it was a million, father, it would Ralph. Why, how shall I repent it? May-not be more than my lord Aimworth 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. AIR. If that's all you want, who the plague will 'Twere better by half to dig stones in a quarry; You think I'm afraid, but the diffrence to show you, First yonder's your shovel; your sacks too throw you; Henceforward take care of your matters who will: They're welcome to slave for your wages who need'em; Fair. So it is thought, as soon as things can be properly prepared-And now, Patty, if I could but see thee a little merry-Come, bless thee, pluck up thy spirits-To be sure thou hast sustained, in the death of thy lady, heavy loss; she was a parent to thee; nay, and better, inasmuch as she took thee when thou wert but a babe, and gave thee an education which thy natural parents could not afford to do. Pat. Ah! dear father, don't mention what perhaps has been my greatest misfortune. Fair. Nay then, Patty, what's become of all thy sense that people talk so much about? -But I have something to say to thee which I would have thee consider seriously-I believe I need not tell thee, my child, that a young maiden, after she is marriageable, especially if she has any thing about her to draw people's notice, is liable to ill tongues, and a many cross accidents; so that the sooner she's out of 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 felPatty, 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 not 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. Tol lol de rol lol, I have purchas'd my freedom, Pat. And I have told you as often, father, I would submit myself entirely to your direction; whatever you think proper for me is so. Fair. Why that's spoken like a dutiful, sensible girl; get thee in, then, and leave me to manage it-Perhaps our neighbour Giles is not a gentleman; but what are the greatest part of our country gentlemen good for? Pat. Very true, father. [Exit into the Cottage. Enter GILES. Giles. Well, master Fairfield, you and miss Pat have had a long discourse together; did you tell her that I was come down? Fair. No, in truth, friend Giles; but I mentioned our affair at a distance; and I think there is no fear. Giles. That's right-and when shall usYou do know I have told you my mind often and often. Fair. Farmer, give us thy hand; nobody doubts thy good will to me and my girl; and you may take my word, I would rather give her to thee than another; for I am main certain thou wilt make her a good husband, Giles. Thanks to your kind opinion, master Fairfield; if such be my hap, I hope there will be no cause of complaint. Re-enter PATTY from the Cottage. Fair. Patty, child, why wouldst not thou open the door for our neighbour Giles? Pat. Really, father, I did not know what was the matter. are Fair. And I promise thee my daughter will make thee a choice wife. But thou know'st, friend Giles, that I, and all belongs to me, Fair. Well, our neighbour Giles will be have great obligations to lord Aimworth's fa-here another time; he'll be here again premily; Patty, in particular, would be one of sently. He's gone up to the castle, Patty: the most ungrateful wretches this day breath-thou know'st it would not be right for us to ing, if she was to do the smallest thing do any thing without giving his lordship incontrary to their consent and approbation. telligence, so I have sent the farmer to let Giles. Nay, nay, 'tis well enough known to him know that he is willing, and we all the country she was the old lady's darling. willing, and, with his lordship's approbationFair. Well, master Giles, I'll assure thee Pat. Oh, dear father-what are you going she is not one whit less obliged to my lord to himself. When his mother was taken off so suddenly, and his affairs called him up to a London, if Patty would have remained at the castle, she might have had the command of all; or if she would have gone any where else, he would have paid for her fixing, let the cost be what it would. say? Fair. Nay, child, I would not have stirr'd step for fifty pounds, without advertising his lordship beforehand. Pat. But surely, surely, you have not done this rash, this precipitate thing? Fair. How rash, how is it rash, Patty? I don't understand thee. Giles. Why, for that matter, folks did not Pat. Oh, you have distress'd me beyond spare to say, that my lord had a sort of a imagination-but why would you not give sneaking kindness for her himself: and I re- me notice, speak to me first? member, at one time, it was rife all about the neighbourhood, that she was actually to be our lady. Fair. Pho, pho! a pack of woman's tales. Giles. Nay, to be sure they'll say any thing. Fair. My lord's a man of a better way of thinking, friend Giles-but this is neither here nor there to our business-Have you been at the castle yet? Giles. Who, I! bless your heart I did not hear a syllable of his lordship's being come down, till your lad told me. Fair. Why han't I spoken to thee an hundred times? No, Patty, 'tis thou that wouldst distress me, and thou'ft break my heart. Pat. Dear father! Fair. All I desire is to see thee well settled; and now that I am likely to do so, thou art not contented. I am sure the farmer is as sightly a clever lad as any in the country; and is he not as good as we? Pat. 'Tis very true, father, I am to blame; pray forgive me. Fair. Forgive thee! Lord help thee, my Fair. No! why then go up to my lord, let child, I am not angry with thee; but quiet bim know you have a mind to make a match thyself, Patty, and thou'll see all this will with my daughter, hear what he has to say turn out for the best. [Exit. to it, and afterwards we will try if we can't Pat. What will become of me?-My lord settle matters. will certainly imagine this is done with my Giles. Go up to my lord? Icod, if that be consent-Well, is he not himself going to be all, I'll do it with the biggest pleasure in life. married to a lady, suitable to him in rank, -But where's miss Pat? Might not one ax suitable to him in fortune, as this farmer is her how she do? to me; and under what pretence can I refuse the husband my father has found for me? Shall I say that I have dared to raise my inclinations above my condition, and presumed to love where my duty taught me only gratitude and respect? Alas! who could live in the house with lord Aimworth, see him, converse with him, and not love him! I have this consolation, however, my folly is yet undiscover'd to any; else, how should I be ridiculed and despised! nay, would not my lord himself despise me, especially if he knew that I have more than once construed his natural affability and politeness into sentiments as unworthy of him, as mine are bold and extravagant. Unexampled vanity. SCENE II.-A Chamber in LORD AIMWORTH'S Enter SIR HARRY SYCAMORE and THEODOSIA. Theo. Her fondness indeed is very exiraordinary. Sir H. Besides, could you give up the prospect of being a countess, and mistress of this fine place? Theo. Yes, truly, could I. AIR. With the man that I love, was I destin'd to On a mountain, a moor, in a cot, in a cell; Enter LADY SYCAMORE. Lady S. Sir Harry, where are you? Theo. Pardon me, papa, it is not I am unreasonable, but you; when I gave way to my Insensible creatures! 'tis all they can taste. inclinations for Mr. Mervin, he did not seem less agreeable to you and my mamma than he was acceptable to me. It is therefore you have been unreasonable, in first encouraging Mr. Mervin's addresses, and afterwards for- Lady S. I am just come from looking over bidding him your house; in order to bring his lordship's family trinkets.-Well, miss Syme down here, to force me on a gentleman-camore, you are a happy creature, to have Sir H. Force you, Dossy 1), what do you diamonds, equipage, title, and all the blessings mean? By the la, I would not force you on of life poured thus upon you at once. the czar of Muscovy. Theo. Blessings, madam! Do you think Theo. And yet, papa, what else can I call then I am such a wretch as to place my feit? for though lord Aimworth is extremely at-licity in the possession of any such trumpery? tentive and obliging, I assure you he is by Lady S. Upon my word, miss, you have no means one of the most ardent of lovers. a very disdainful manner of expressing yourSir H. Ardent, ah! there it is; you girls self; I believe there are very few young wonever think there is any love, without kissing men of fashion, who would think any sacriand hugging; but you should consider, child, fice they could make too much for them.— my lord Aimworth is a polite man, and has Did you ever hear the like of her, sir Harry? been abroad in France and Italy, where these Sir H. Why, my dear, I have just been things are not the fashion: I remember when talking to her in the same strain, but whatI was on my travels, among the madames ever she has got in her headand signoras, we never saluted more than the tip of the ear. Theo. Really, papa, you have a very strange opinion of my delicacy. Sir H. Well come, my poor Dossy, 1 see you are chagrin'd, but you know it is not my fault; on the contrary, I assure you, I had always a great regard for young Mervin, and should have been very glad Lady S. Oh, it is Mr. Mervin, her gentleman of Bucklersbury.-Fie, miss, marry a cit! Were is your pride, your vanity; have you nothing of the person of distinction about you? Sir H. Well but, my lady, you know I am a piece of a cit myself, as I may say, for my great-grandfather was a dry-salter. Theo. And yet, madam, you condescended to marry my papa. Lady S. Well, if I did, miss, I had but five thousand pounds to my portion, and sir Harry knows I was past eight-and-thirty before I Theo. How then, papa, could you join in forcing me to write him that strange letter, never to see me more? or how indeed could I comply with your commands? what must would listen to him. he think of me? were Sir H. Nay, Dossy, that's true, your mamSir H. Ay, but hold, Dossy, your mamma ma own'd eight-and-thirty before we convinced me that he was not so proper a married: but by the la, my dear, you were son-in-law for us as lord Aimworth. a lovely angel; and by candle-light nobody would have taken you for above five-andtwenty. Theo. Convinced you! Ah, my dear papa, you were not convinced. Sir H. What, don't I know when I am convinced? Theo. Why no, papa; because your good nature and easiness of temper is such, that you pay more respect to the judgment of mamma, and less to your own, than you ought to do. Lady S. Sir Harry, you remember the last time I was at my lord duke's. Sir H. Yes, my love, it was the very day your little bitch Minxey pupt. Lady S. And pray what did the whole family say? my lord John, and my lord Thomas, and my lady duchess in particular? Cousin, says her grace to me-for she always called me cousin Sir H. Well, but Dossy, don't you see how your mamma loves me? If the tip of my little finger does but ache, she's like a bewitched Theo. Well but, madam, to cut this matter woman; and if I was to die, I don't believe short at once, my father has a great regard she would outlive the burying of me: nay, for Mr. Mervin, and would consent to our she has told me as much herself, 1) Dossy is an abbreviation of Theodosia, union with all his heart. Lady S, Do you say so, sir Harry? |