Hodge. Yes, he gave me a letter, if I ha'na lost it. Lucin. 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 waistcoat pocket. Oh, here it is.

Lucin. So, give it me. [Reads the Letter to herself. Hodge. Lord-a-mercy! how my arms aches with beating that plaguy beast; I'll be hang'd if I won'na rather ha' thrash'd half a day, than ha' ridden her.

Lucin. Well, Hodge, you have done your business very well.

Hodge. Well, have not I now?

Lucin. Yes-Mr. Eustace tells me in this letter, that he will be in the green lane, at the other end of the village, by twelve o'clock-You know where he came before?

Hodge. Ay, ay.

Lucin. Well, you must go there; and wait till he arrives, and watch your opportunity to introduce him across the fields, into the little summer-house, on the left side of the garden.

Hodge. That's enough.

Lucin. But take particular care that nobody sees you. Hodge. I warrant you.

Lucin. Nor for your life drop a word of it to any mortal.

Hodge. Never fear me.
Lucin. And Hodge

AIR XI.

Hodge. Well, well, say no more;

Sure you told me before;

I see the full length of my tether;
Do you think I'm a fool,

That I need go to school?

I can spell you and put you together.

A word to the wise,
Will always suffice;

Addsniggers go talk to your parrot ;
I'm not such an elf,

Though I say it myself,

But I know a sheep's head from a carrot.

[Exit.

Lucin. How severe is my case! Here I am obliged to carry on a clandestine correspondence with a man in all respects my equal, because the oddity of my father's temper is such, that I dare not tell him I have ever yet seen the person I should like to marry-But perhaps he has quality in his eye, and hopes, one day or other, as I am his only child, to match me with a title-vain imagination!

SCENE V.

A Field, with a Stile.

Enter HODGE, followed by MARGERY; and in some Time after, enter YOUNG MEADOWS.

Hodge. What does the wench follow me for? Odds flesh, folks may well talk, to see you dangling after me every where, like a tantony pig: find some other road, can't you; and don't keep wherreting me with your nonsense.

Marg. Nay, pray you, Hodge, stay, and let me speak to you a bit.

Hodge. Well; what sayn you?

Marg. Dear heart, how can you be so barbarous ? and is this the way you serve me after all? and won't you keep your word, Hodge?

Hodge. Why, no I won't, I tell you; I have chang'd my mind.

Marg. Nay, but surely, surely-Consider, Hodge, you are obligated in conscience to make me an ho

nest woman.

Hodge. Obligated in conscience!-How am I obligated?

Marg. Because you are; and none but the basest of rogues would bring a poor girl to shame, and afterwards leave her to the wide world.

Hodge. Bring you to shame! Don't make me speak, Madge, don't make me speak.

Marg. Yes do, speak your worst.

Hodge. Why then, if you go to that, you were fain to leave your own village, down in the West, for a bastard you had by the clerk of the parish, and I'll bring the man shall say it to your face.

Marg. No, no, Hodge, 'tis no such thing, 'tis a base lie of Farmer Ploughshare's-But I know what makes you false-hearted to me, that you may keep company

with young madam's waiting woman, and I am sure she's no fit body for a poor man's wife.

Hodge. How should you know what she's fit for? She's fit for as much as you, mayhap; don't find fault with your betters, Madge-[Seeing YOUNG MEADOWS.] O, Master Thomas! I have a word or two to say to you:-Pray did not you go down the village one day last week, with a basket of something upon your shoulder?

Y. Mead. Well, what then?

Hodge. Nay, not much, only the ostler at the Green-man was saying as how there was a passenger at their house as see'd you go by, and said he know'd you; and axt a mort of questions-So I thought I'd tell you.

Y. Mead. The devil! ask questions about me! I know nobody in this part of the country; there must be some mistake in it-Come hither, Hodge. [Exeunt.

Marg. A nasty ungrateful fellow, to use me at this rate, after being to him as I have.-Well, well, I wish all poor girls would take warning by my mishap, and never have nothing to say to none of them.

AIR XIII.

How happy were my days, till now!
I ne'er did sorrow feel,

I rose with joy to milk my cow,
Or take my spinning-wheel.

My heart was lighter than a fly,
Like any bird I sung,

Till he pretended love, and I

Believ'd his flatt'ring tongue.

Oh the fool, the silly fool,

Who trusts what man may
I wish I was a maid again,

And in my own country.

be;

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

A Green, with the Prospect of a Village, and the Representation of a Statute or Fair.

Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, HAWTHORN, MRS. DEBORAH WOODCOCK, LUCINDA, ROSETTA, YOUNG MEADOWS, HODGE, and several COUNTRY PEO

PLE.

Hodge. This way, your worship, this way. Why don't you stand aside there! Here's his worship a coming.

Countr. His worship!

J. Wood. Fye, fye, what a crowd's this! Odd, I'll put some of them in the stocks. [Striking a Fellow.] Stand out of the way, sirrah.

Hawth. For shame, neighbour. Well, my lad, are you willing to serve the king?

Countr. Why, can you list ma! Serve the king, master! no, no, I pay the king, that's enough for me. Ho, ho, ho!

Hawth. Well said, Sturdy-boots.

J. Wood. Nay, if you talk to them, they'll answer

you.

Hawth. I would have them do so, I like they should. Well, madam, is not this a fine sight? I did not know my neighbour's estate had been so well peopled. Are all these his own tenants ?

Mrs. Deb. More than are good of them, Mr. Hawthorn. I don't like to see such a parcel of young hussies fleering with the fellows.

Hawth. There's a lass. [Beckoning to a COUNTRY GIRL.] Come hither, my pretty maid. What brings