I heard him Jament his fate. Rosina's virtues offended almost past forgiveness. Will the shall not go unrewarded. offer of my hand repair the injury? 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? 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. Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of our young men come a near her; and yet-ter. Bel. Speak: I am on the rack. Dor. I'm afeard-she mopes and she pines But your honour would be angry-I'm afeard the captain— Bel. This noble refusal paints your chararI know another, Rosina, who loves you with as strong, though purer ardour:-but if allowed to hope Ros. Do not, sir, envy me the calm de light 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. [Exit. 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. 1 Irish. Faith, good woman, you owe me nothing at all. I'll 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 I, "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 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 comes, my jewel. Re-enter RUSTIC, leading ROSINA, who throws Dor. Bless thec, my child; thy kindness melts my heart. Bel. Do you refuse me too then, Rosina' [Rosina raises her Eyes tenderly on Be ville, lowers them again, and leans Dorcas. Dor. You, sir? You? Ros. My confusion-my blushes— Pho. I am asham'd-William and I, you honour-William pray'd me to let him ke me company-so he gain'd my good will have him; if so be my grandmother conser [Courtesying, and playing with her Apr Will. If your honour would be so good speak to Dorcas. Bel. Dorcas, you must not refuse me thing to-day. I'll give William a farm. Dor Your honour is too kind—take be William, and make her a good husband. Will. That I will, dame. Will. Pho. [To Belville] Thank your be nour. Belville joins their Hands, they bow and courtesey. Will. What must I do with the purst your honour? Dorcas would not take it. Bel. I believe my brother has the best rig Capt. B. 'Tis yours, William; dispose of as you please. Will. Then I'll give it to our honest Iris men, who fought so bravely for our Ros Bel. You have made good use of it, W liam; nor shall my gratitude stop here. Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother. Whe I am worthy of your esteem, I will retur and demand my rights in your affection. Bel. You must not leave us, brother. Resume the race of honour; be indeed a s Rust. Your honour need not go far a field, dier, and be more than my brother-be I believe; it must have been some friend of friend. 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 Be. the glorious profession you have embrac'd FINALE. To bless, and to be blest, be ours, Whate'er our rank, whate'er o powers; But be gone, I renounce you as my brother, Capt. B. On some her gifts kind fortu and renounce my ill-plac'd friendship. 1) Rescue. a) Oak-sticks.-The Irish are famous for the use of the atick; it is generally a piece of oak, and the regular size is as big round as their wrist, and the exact length their arm. showers, Who reap, like us, in this rich scent Capt, B. Yet those who taste her bounty less Comic Opera, by Isaak Bickerstaff. Acted 1763, 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 Hazard, 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 case and regularity, and natural in the delineation of character, Ros. HOPE! thou nurse of young desire, Luc. Hope! thou earnest of delight, Both. Kind deceiver, flatter still, Deal out pleasures unpossest; Luc. Heigho!-Rosetta! cloy: For shame, you a lover! Take courage, nor here longer mope; Run riot, like me, And, to perfect the picture, elope. 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 confident, he entertains not the least suspicion Ros. Well, child, what do you say? 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 Confin'd thus, and chain'd to a log! '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 You smile at that now; and I know you think me whimsical, as you have often told me; but you must excuse my being a little over-delicate in this particular. AIR. My heart's my own, my will is free, And is there then no saving clause, Luc. Well, but my dear, mad girl= Ros. Indeed, Lucinda, you are very silly. Luc. Indeed, Rosetta, that blush makes you look very handsome. Ros. Blush! I am sure I don't blush. Ros. Pshaw! Lucinda, how can you be so ridiculous? Luc. Well, don't be angry, and I have doneBut suppose you did like him, how could you help yourself? [Exeunt into an Arbour, Enter young MEADOWS. Young M. Let me see-on the fifteenth of June, at half an hour past five in the morning, [Taking out a Pocket-book] I left my fathers Ros. Lucinda, don't talk to me-Was your house unknown to any one, having made free father to go to London; meet there by acci- with a coat and jacket of our gardener's that dent with an old fellow as wrong-headed as fitted me, by way of a disguise; so says my himself; and, in a fit of absurd friendship, pocket-book: and chance directing me to th agree to marry you to that old fellow's son, village, on the twentieth of the same month whom you had never seen, without consulting I procured a recommendation to the worship your inclinations, or allowing you a negative, ful justice Woodcock, to he the superintendan in case he should not prove agreeable- of his pumpkins and cabbages, because I woul Luc. Why I should think it a little hard, let my father see, I chose to run any length I confess yet, when I see you in the charac- rather than submit to what his obstinacy wel ter of a chambermaidhave forced me, a marriage against my i Ros. Is is the only character, my dear, in clination, with a woman I never saw. [Pa which I could hope to lie concealed; and, I up the Book, and takes up a Waters can tell you, I was reduced to the last ex-pot] Here I have been three weeks, and i tremity, when, in consequence of our old that time I am as much altered as if I had boarding-school friendship, I applied to you to changed my nature with my habit.-'Sdeat receive me in this capacity; for we expected to fall in love with a chambermaid: And ye the parties the very next week. if I could forget that I am the son and bet of Sir William Meadows. But that's impossibla Luc. But had not you a message from your intended spouse, to let you know he was as little inclined to such ill-concerted nuptials as you were? Ros. More than so; he wrote to advise me, by all means, to contrive some method of breaking them oll; for he had rather return to his dear studies at Oxford: and, after that, what hopes could I have of being happy with him? AIR. O! had I been by fate decreced Some humble cottage swain; My sheep upon the plain; Which now I ne'er must know! Luc. Then you are not at all uneasy at the strange rout you must have occasioned at Ha! who was it I had a glimpse of as I past! home? I warrant, during this month you have by that arbour? Was it not she sat reading been absentthere? the trembling of my heart tells me eyes were not inistaken-Here she comes. [Retires. Rosetta comes deat from the Arbour. Ros. Oh! don't mention it, my dear; I have had so many admirers, since I commenced Abigail ), that I am quite charmed with my situation-But hold, who stalks yonder in the Ros. Lucinda was certainly in the right of yard, that the dogs are so glad to see? it; and yet I blush to own my weakness eve Luc. Daddy Hawthorn, as I live! He is to myself -- Marry, hang the fellow for t come to pay my father a visit; and never being a gentleman. more luckily, for he always forces him abroad. Young M. I am determined I won't speak By the way, what will you do with yourself to her. [Turning to a Rose-tree, and pluch while I step into the house to see after my the Flowers] Now or never is the time to trusty messenger, Hodge? conquer myself: besides, I have some reas Ros. No matter; I'll sit down in that arbour, to believe the girl has no aversion to me: an and listen to the singing of the birds: you as I wish not to do her an injury, it would know I am fond of melancholy amusements. be cruel to fill her head with notions of w Luc. So it seems, indeed: sure, Rosetta, can never happen. [Hums a Tune] Psha none of your admirers had power to touch rot these roses, how they prick one's fingers your heart; you are not in love, I hope? Ros. le takes no notice of me; but Ros. In love! that's pleasant: who do you much the better; I'll be as indifferent as suppose I should be in love with, pray? is. I am sure the poor lad likes me; and Luc. Why, let me see-What do you think I was to give him any encouragement, I s of Thomas, our gardener? There he is at the pose the next thing he talked of would be other end of the walk - He's a pretty young buying a ring, and being asked in churchman, and the servants say, he's always writing Oh, dear pride, I thank you for that thought. verses on you. a) Servant-maid. Young M. Hah, going without a word! a look!-I can't bear that Mrs. Rosetta, I am gathering a few roses here, if you please to take them in with you. Haw. Am I here? Yes: and, if you had been where I was three hours ago, you would Ros. Thank you, Mr. Thomas, but all my find the good effects of it by this time: but lady's flower-pots are full. you have got the lazy, unwholesome, London Young M. Will you accept of them for fashion of lying abed in a morning, and there's yourself, then? [Catching hold of her] What's gout for you-Why, sir, I have not been in the matter? you look as if you were angry bed five minutes after sunrise these thirty with me. Ros. Pray let go my hand. Young M. Nay, pr'ythee, why is this? you 'shan't go, I have something to say to you. Ros. Well, but I must go, I will go; I desire, Mr. Thomas AIR. Gentle youth, ah, tell me why years, am generally up before it; and I never took a dose of physic but once in my life, and that was in compliment to a cousin of mine, an apothecary, that had just set up business. Jus. W. Well but, master Hawthorn, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter; for, I say, sleep is necessary for a man; ay, and I'll maintain it. Haw. What, when I maintain the contrary?-Look you, neighbour Woodcock, you are a rich man, a man of worship, a justice of peace, and all that; but learn to know the respect that is due to the sound from the in[Exit. firm; and allow me that superiority a good Young M. This girl is a riddle-That she constitution gives me over you-Health is the loves me I think there is no room to doubt; greatest of all possessions; and 'tis a maxim she takes a thousand opportunities to let me with me, that a hale cobler is a better man see it: and yet, when I speak to her, she will than a sick king. hardly give me an answer; and, if I attempt Jus. W. Well, well, you are a sportsman." the smallest familiarity, is gone in an instant- Haw. And so would you be too, if you I feel my passion for her grow every day would take my advice. A sportsman! why more and more violent-Well, would I marry there is nothing like it: I would not exchange her? - would I make a mistress of her if I the satisfaction I feel, while I am beating the could?-Two things, called prudence and lawns and thickets about my little farm, for honour, forbid either. What am I pursuing, all the entertainment and pageantry in Christthen? A shadow. Sure my evil genius laid endom. this snare in my way. However, there is one comfort, it is in my power to fly from it; if so, why do I hesitate? I am distracted, unable to determine any thing. SCENE II.-A Hall in JUSTICE WOODCOCK'S Enter HAWTHORN, with a Fowlingpiece in AIR. There was a jolly miller once, AIR. Let gay ones and great, Make the most of their fate, Hodge. Did your worship call, sir? Jus. W. Call, sir; where have you and the rest of these rascals been? but I suppose I need not ask You must know there is a statute, a fair for hiring servants, held upon my green to-day; we have it usually at this season of the year, and it never fails to put He work'd and sung from morn till night; all the folks hereabout out of their senses. No lark more blithe than he. And this the burthen of his song, For ever us'd to be I care for nobody, not I, If no one cares for me. House, here, house! what all gadding, all abroad! house, I say, hilli-ho, ho! Jus. M. Without Here's a noise, here's a racket! William, Robert, Hodge! why does not somebody answer? Odds my life, I believe the fellows have lost their hearing! Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK. Hodge. Lord, your honour, look out, and see what a nice show they make yonder; they had got pipers, and fiddlers, and were dancing as I came along, for dear life-I never saw such a mortal throng in our village in all my born days again. Haw. Why, I like this now, this is as it should be. Jus. W. No, no, 'tis a very foolish piece of business; good for nothing but to promote idleness and the getting of bastards: but I shall take measures for preventing it another year, and I doubt whether I am not sufficiently Oh, master Hawthorn! I guessed it was some authorized already; for by an act passed Anno such madcap-Are you there? undecimo Caroli primi, which empowers a justice of peace, who is lord of the manorHaw. Come, come, never mind the act; let me tell you, this is a very proper, a very useful meeting; I want a servant or two myself, I must go see what your market affords; and you shall go, and the girls, my little Lucy and the other young rogue, and we'll make a day on't as well as the rest. Luc. So! give it me. [Reads the Letter to hersel Hodge. Lord a inercy! how my arm acts with beating that plaguy beast: I'll be hang if I won'na' rather ha' thrash'd half a dr than ha' ridden her. Luc. Well, Hodge, you have done you business very well. Jus. H. I wish, master Hawthorn, I could Hodge. Well, have not I now? teach you to be a little more sedate: why Luc. Yes-Mr. Eustace tells me in this let won't you take pattern by me, and consider that he will be in the green lane, at the o your dignity? Odds heart, I don't wonder end of the village, by twelve o'clock — 1 you are not a rich man; you laugh too much know where he came before. ever to be rich. Haw. Right, neighbour Woodcock! health, good humour, and competence, is my motto: and, if my executors have a mind, they are welcome to make it my epitaph. Hodge. Been, ay, I ha' been far enough, an that be all: you never knew any thing fall out so crossly in your born days. Luc. Why, what's the matter? Hodge. Ay, ay. Luc. Well, you must go there; and w till he arrives, and watch your opportunity introduce him, across the fields, into the summer-house, on the left side of the gard Hodge. That's enough. Luc. But take particular care that nobo sees you. Hodge. I warrant you. Luc. Nor for your life drop a word c to any mortal. Hodge. Never fear me. AIR.-HODGE. VVell, well, say no more; That I need go to school? I can spell you and put you together. Though I say it myself, But I know a sheep's head from a carr [E Hodge. Why you know, I dare not take a horse out of his worship's stables this morning, for fear it should be missed, and breed questions; and our old nag at home was so cruelly beat i'th' hoofs, that, poor beast, it had not a foot to set to ground; so I was fain to go to Luc. How severe is my case! Here! farmer Ploughshare's, at the Grange, to bor- obliged to carry on a clandestine corresponde row the loan of his bald filly; and, would you with a man in all respects my equal, bes think it? after walking all that way-de'el from the oddity of my father's temper is such, me, if the crossgrained toad did not deny me I dare not tell him I have ever yet seen the favour. Luc. Unlucky! Hodge. Well, then I went my ways to the King'shead in the village, but all their cattle were at plough: and I was as far to seck| below at the turnpike: so at last, for want of a better, I was forced to take up with dame Quickset's blind mare. Luc. Oh, then you have been? Luc. Pshaw! Why did not you say so at once? Hodge. Ay, but I have had a main tiresome jaunt on't, for she is a sorry jade at best. Luc. Well, well, did you see Mr. Eustace, and what did he say to you?-Come, quickhave you e'er a letter? Hodge. Yes, he gave me a letter, if I ha'na' lost it. Luc. Lost it, man! Hodge. Nay, nay, have a bit of patience: adwawns, you are always in such a hurry [Rummaging his Pockets] I put it somewhere in this waiscoat pocket. Oh, here it is. person I should like to marry-But per he has quality in his eye, and hopes, on or other, as I am his only child, to match with a title-vain imagination! AIR. Cupid, god of soft persuasion, Take the helpless lover's part: SCENE III.A Field with a Stile. 16 |