Raw. 'Sdeath! why meet my daughter in the forest ? Wil. Because I love her. Raw. And would ruin her. Wil. That's a strange way of showing one's love, methinks. I have a simple notion, Gilbert, that the thought of having taken a base advantage of a poor girl's affection might go nigh to break a man's sleep, and give him unquiet dreams; now, I love my night's rest, and shall do nothing to disturb it. Raw. Wouldst not poison her mind? Wil. 'Tis not my method, friend, of dosing a patient. Look ye, Gilbert; her mind is a fair flower, stuck in the rude soil here of surrounding ignorance, and smiling in the chill of poverty. I would fain cheer it with the little sunshine I possess of comfort and information. My parents were poor, like her's: should occasion serve, I might haply, were all parties agreed, make her my wife. To make her aught else would affect her, you, and myself: and I have no talent at making three people uneasy at the same time. Raw. Your hand: on your own account, we are friends. Bar. (L. c.) Oh, dear father! Raw. Be silent. Now to your errand: 'tis from Mortimer. Wil. I come from Sir Edward. Raw. I know his malice: he would oppress me with his power-he would starve me and my family. Search my house. Sam. (L.) No, father, no!—[Aside.] You forget the buck under the furze. Raw. Let him do his worst, but let him beware—a tyrant! a villain! [Samson gets round to R. corner. Wil. Hark ye: he is my master; I owe him my gratitude-every thing; and had you been any but the father of my Barbara, and spoken so much against him, indignation had worked into my knuckles, and crammed the words down your rusty throat! Sam. [Aside.-R. c.] I do begin to perceive how this will end father will knock down the secretary as flat as a buck! Raw. Why am I singled out? Is there no mark for the vengeance of office to shoot its shaft at but me?— This morning, as he dogged me in the forest Wil. Hush, Rawbold! keep your counsel. you make it public, he must notice it. Raw. Did he not notice it? Should Wil. No matter; but he has sent me thus early, Gilbert, with this relief to your distresses, which he has heard of. Here are twenty marks for you and your family. Raw. From Sir Edward Mortimer ? Wil. 'Tis his way; but he would not have it mentioned. He is one of those judges who, in their office, will never warp the law to save offenders; but his private charity bids him assist the needy, before their necessities drive them to crimes, which his public duty must punish. Raw. Did Mortimer do this? did he ?-Heaven bless him! Oh, young man, if you knew half the misery-my wife-my children! Shame on't! I have stood many a tug, but the drops now fall, in spite of me! I am not ungrateful, but I cannot stand it! We will talk of Barbara when I have more man about me. [Exit up the staircase, I.. Wil. Farewell! I must home to the lodge quickly; Ere this, I warrant, I am looked for. Bar. Farewell! QUINTETTO. Wil. The sun has tipped the hills with red, The punchy parson waddles from his bed, Bar. Adieu!-And should you think upon That there lives little Barbara. Sam. And Samson, too, good sir, in smoke and smother; Boy. [To Samson.] Brother, look; the sun aloof Give us food, good brother, pray; B Children. Give us food, good brother, pray! Sam. Stop their bawling! I wish I could stop their mouths with talking. Wil. Adieu! adieu!-I must be going; Bar. Oh, think on little Barbara! Children. Give us food! Sam. Leave off squalling! Stop their bawling! Wil. & Bar. Adieu! adieu! Adieu! my little Barbara! Oh, think on little Barbara! [Exeunt Wilford, R. D. F., Samson and two Children, L., and the scene closes on Dame Rawbold and two other Children. SCENE II.-An old-fashioned Hall in Sir Edward Mortimer's Lodge-a table and two chairs. Enter PETER, and several other Servants, R., and cross with flagons, tankards, cold meat, &c. Enter ADAM Winterton, r. Win. Softly, varlets, softly! See you crack none of the stone flagons. Nay, 'tis plain your own breakfasts ⚫ be toward, by your scuttling thus. A goodly morning! Why, you giddy-pated knave! [To Peter,] is it so you carry a dish of pottery?-No heed of our good master, Sir Edward Mortimer's ware? Fie, Peter Pickbone, fie! Peter. I am in haste, master steward, to break my fast. Win. To break thy fast!-To break thy neck, it should seem. [Laughing.] Ha! ha! good, i'faith! Go thy ways, knave! [Exit Peter, L. 'Tis thus the rogues ever have me: I would fain be angry with them, but straight a merry jest passeth across me, and my choler is over. break thy neck, it should seem! [Laughing.] Ha! ha! 'twas well conceited, by St. Thomas! My table-book for the business of the day. Ah! my memory holds not as it Το did-it needs the spur. [Looking over his book.] Nineand-forty years have I been house-steward and butler. It is a long lease. Let me see my tablets. [Looking over them and singing. "When birds do carol on the bush, With a heigh no nonny"-Heigho! These fatigues of office somewhat wear a man. I have had a long lease on't: I ha' seen out Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, and King James. 'Tis e'en almost time that I should retire, to begin to enjoy myself. [Looking off, L.] Eh! by St. Thomas! hither trips the fair mistress Blanch. Of all the waiting-gentlewomen I ever looked on, during the two last reigns, none stirred my fancy like this little rose-bud. Enter BLANCH, L. Blanch. A good day, good Adam Winterton. Win. What, wag! what, tulip!I never see thee, but I am a score of years the younger. Blanch. Nay, then, let us not meet often, or you will soon be in your second childhood. Win. What, you come from your mistress, the Lady Helen, in the forest here; and would speak with Sir Edward Mortimer, I warrant? Blanch. I would. Is his melancholy worship stirring yet? Win. Fie, you mad-cap!-He is my master, and your lady's friend. Blanch. Yes, truly, it seems, her only one, poor lady : he protects her, now she is left an orphan. Win. A blessing on his heart! I would it were merrier. Well, should they happen to marry, (and I have my fancies on't,) I'll dance a galliard with thee in the hall, on the round oak table. 'Sbud! when I was a youth, I would ha' capered with St. Vitus, and beat him. Blanch. You are as likely to dance now, as they to marry. What has hindered them, if the parties be agreed? Yet I have, now, been with my mistress these two years, since Sir Edward first came hither, and placed her in the cottage hard by his lodge. Win. Tush! family reasons. Thou knowest nothingthou art scarce catched. Two years back, when we came from Kent, and Sir Edward first entered on his office here of head-keeper, thou wert a colt, running wild about New Forest. I hired you myself, to attend on Madam Helen. Blanch. Nay, I shall never forget it. But you were as frolicsome then as I, methinks. Dost remember the box on the ear I gave thee, Adam? Win. Peace, peace, you pie !—An' you prate thus, I'll stop your mouth-I will, by St. Thomas! Blanch. An I be inclined to the contrary, I do not think you are able to stop it. Win. Tut, you baggage! thou hast more tricks than a kitten. Well, go thy ways; [Blanch crosses to R.] Sir Edward is at his study, and there thou wilt find him.-Ah, Mistress Blanch! had you but seen me sixty years ago, in the early part of Queen Elizabeth's reign! Blanch. How old art thou now, Adam? Win. Fourscore, come Martlemas; and, by our lady! I can run with a lapwing. Blanch. Canst thou?-Well said!-Thou art a merry old man, and shalt have a kiss of me, on one condition. Win. Shall I ?—Odsbud! name it, and 'tis mine. Blanch. Then catch me. [Runs off, R. Win. Pestilence on't!-There was a time when my legs had served: I was a clean-limbed stripling, when I first stood behind Sir Marmaduke's arm-chair in the old oak eating-room. [Retires up, L. Enter WILFORD, R. Wil. Every new act of Sir Edward's charity sets me a thinking; and the more I think, the more I am puzzled. 'Tis strange that a man should be so ill at ease, who is continually doing good! At times, the wild glare of his eye is frightful. I would stake my life there's a secret ; and I could almost give my life to unravel it. I must to him for my morning's employment. [Crosses to L Win. Ah, boy! Wilford! secretary! whither away, lad? Wil. Mr. Winterton !-[Aside.] Ay, marry, this good old man has the clue, could I but coax him to give it to me.-Aloud.] A good morning to you, sir. Win. Yea, and the like to thee, boy! Come, thou shalt have a cup of Canary from my corner cupboard, yonder. |