Gil. I was singing to be sure; but I cannot say much about being in spirits.

Steady. No! Why do not thy approaching nuptials lift up, and as it were exhilarate thee?

Flor Lord, sir! there's no persuading her; nothing will get this Lubin out of her head.

Steady. And why, young maiden, wilt thou not listen unto me? Have I not, for thy pleasure, given into all the vanities in which youth delights? I tell thee, that although my complexion be saturnine, my manners are not austere; why therefore likest thou not me?

Gil. I should like you very well if you were my father, but I don't like you at all for a husband. Steady. And wherefore, I pray thee?

Gil. Oh, there are reasons enough.

Steady. Which be they?

Gil. Why, in the first place, I should want you to change your clothes, and to have you as spruce as 1

am.

Steady. Rather do thou change those thou wearest unto the likeness of mine. The dove regardeth not the gay plumage of the gaudy mackaw; and the painted rainbow delighteth our sight, but it vanishes away, yea, even as a vapour. What more?

Gil. Why, in the next place, I should want to change your age, and have you as young as I am.

Steady. She speaketh her mind, and I esteem her. [Aside] Therefore why then, since, it is necessary unto my peace that thou shouldst become bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh, and thou canst not fashion thy disposition unto the likeness of mine, I will make it my study to double thy pleasure, until that which is now gratitude, shall at last become love.

Gil. Ah! you'll never see that day, so you had better take no trouble about it.

Steady. Thou art mistaken; and when thou beholdest the gambols to-morrow on the green

Gil. I shall long most monstrously to make one amongst them.

Steady. And so thou shalt. Goodness forbid that I should withhold from thee those pleasures that are innocent.

AIR.

While the lads of the village shall merrily, ah!
Sound the tabors, I'll hand thee along,

And say unto thee, that verily, ah!

Thou and I will be first in the throng.
While the lads, &c.

Just then, when the swain who last year won the dower,
With his mates shall the sports have begun,
When the gay voice of gladness resounds from each
bow'r,

And thou long'st in thy heart to make one:
While the lads, &c.

Those joys which are harmless, what mortal can blame? "Tis my maxim that youth should be free;

And to prove that my words and my deeds are the same, Believe me, thou'lt presently see.

While the lads, &c.

Gil. What an unfortunate girl am I, Floretta!
Flor. What makes you think so?

[Exit.

Gil. Why what would make you think so too, if you was in my place.

Flor. Well then, I own I do think so; and if you'll promise not to betray me, I'll stand your friend in this affair.

Gil. Will you? Oh law! And what must be done, Floretta?

Flor. Why-But see yonder's a lover of mine; I'll make him of use to us.

Gil. Lord! what's Solomon your lover? I hate him with his proverbs and his formality. What the deuce do you intend to do with him?

Flor. What women generally do with their lovers, my dear, make a fool of him.-Mr. Solomon.

Enter SOLOMON.

Sol. I listened, when lo! thou called'st me; and as the voice of the shepherd is delightful unto the sheep in his fold, so even is thy voice delightful unto me.

Flor. There's a lover for you! Why the spirit moves you, Mr. Solomon, to say abundance of fine things. Sol. According unto the proverb, love maketh a wit of the fool.

Flor. Yes, and a fool of the wit. But do you love me?

Sol. When thou seest one of our speakers dancing a jig at a country wake; when thou beholdest the brethren take off their beavers, and bow their bodies, or hearest them swear, then believe I love thee not.

Flor. A very pompous speech, upon my word.

Sol. An ill phrase may come from a good heart; but all men cannot do all things; one getteth an estate by what another getteth an halter; a foolish man

Flor. Talks just as you do now. But will you do a little favour I have to beg of you?

Sol. Slaves obey the will of them who command them.

Flor. There is a young man who has been used ill— Sol. "Tis very like; kind words are easier met with than good actions; charity seldom goeth out of the house, while ill nature is always rambling abroad.

Flor. His name is Lubin; and I want you to inquire him out, and appoint him to meet me to-morrow morning very early, in the row of elms at the bottom of the garden.

Sol. But shall I not in this offend my master?

Gil. Never mind him; suppose if he should find us out, and scold us a little

Sol. True-high words break no bones. But wilt thou give me a smile if I do this for thee?

Gil. Ay, that she shall, Mr. Solomon, and I'll give you another.

Sol. But wilt thou appoint the spousal day?

Flor. You are so hasty, Mr. Solomon

Sol. And with reason; a man may catch cold while his coat is making. Shall it be to-morrow?

Flor. Must I promise?

Sol. Yea, and perform too; 'tis not plums only that maketh the pudding.

Flor. Well, well, we'll talk about it another time. Sol. No time like the time present.

Flor. Nay now, but go, Solomon.

Sol. An egg to-day is better than a chicken tomorrow; many things happen between the cup and the lip.

Flor. Pray now go.

Sol. Yea, I will. A bird in the hand is better than two in the bush.

[Exit. Gil. What a fright of a creature it is! How good you are, Floretta.

Flor. I could not bear to see you us'd in such a manner; and when I reflected on it, it went to my heart.

AIR.

I said to myself, now, Floretta, says I,
Supposing the case wa your own;

Would you not be the first ev'ry method to try,
To get rid of this canting old drone.

You well know you would, and you're worse than a
Turk,

If one minute you hesitate whether

In justice you should not your wits set to work,
To bring Lubin and Gillian together.

To be certain, old Formal will frown and look blue,
Call you baggage, deceitful, bold face,

With all manner of names he can lay his tongue to, And perhaps turn you out of your place.

What of that? Let him frown, let him spit all his spite,
Your heart still as light as a feather,

With truth shall assure you 'tis but doing right,
To bring Gillian and Lubin together.

[Exit.

Gil. I wonder what they plague us poor girls so for? Fathers and mothers in this case are comical folks; they are for ever telling one what they'll do to please one; and yet, when they take it into their heads, they make nothing of desiring us to be miserable as long as one lives. I wish I could be dutiful and happy too. May be Floretta will bring matters about for me to marry Lubin with their consent; if she does, Lord how 1 shall love her!

AIR.

The captive linnet, newly taken,
Vainly strives and vents its rage;
With struggling pants, by hopes forsaken,
And flutters in its golden cage:
But once releas'd, to freedom soaring
Quickly on some neighb'ring tree,
It sings, as if its thanks 'twere pouring,
To bless the hand that set it free.

SCENE III.

A Wall at the Back of STEADY's Garden.
Enter LUBIN.

[Exit.

Lub. "Tis all true, 'tis all true; there's not a soul in the whole village that has not had something to say to me about it. Some pity me, others laugh at me, and all blame me for making myself uneasy. I know, if I did as I ought to do, I should get me back, and think no more concerning of them: but instead of that, here am I come creeping to the garden-gate, to see if I can get a sight of her. Who comes yonder? Oh, 'tis her father and the old quaker. I'll listen, and hear what they are talking about.

Enter STEADY and EASY.

Steady. Friend Easy, hie thee home to thy wife, tell her to hold herself ready for to-morrow; and say unto