Abbildungen der Seite






sweetheart? But you are so proud you won't let our young men a near you.

You Scene I.-- After the Trio, the Sun is seen may live to repent being so scornful.

to rise : the Door of the Cottage is open, a Lamp burning just within ; Dorcas, seated on a Bench, is spinning ; Rosina When William at eve meets me down at and Phoebe, just within the Door, are

the stile, measuring Corn; WILLIAM comes from

How sweet is the nightingales soug! the top of the Stage; they sing the fol- of the day I forget the labour and toil, lowing Trio.

Whilst the moon plays yon branches among. When the rosy morn appearing By her beams, without blushing, I hear him Paints with gold the verdant lawn,

complain, Bees on banks of thime disporting, And believe every word of his song: Sip the sweets, and bail the dawn. You know not how sweet 'tis to love the

dear swain, Warbling birds, the day proclaiming, Carol sweet the lively sirain ;

Whilst the moon plays yon branches among. They forsake their leafy dwelling,

[During the last Sianza William appears

at the end of the Scene, and makes To secure the golden grain.

Signs to Phæbe; who, when it is finishSee, content, the humble gleaner,

ed, sleals softly to him, and they disTake the scatter'd ears that fall!

apprar. Nature, all her children viewing,

Ros. How small a part of my evils is poKindly bounteous, cares for all

. verty! And how little does Phæbe know the

[William retires. heart she thinks insensible! the beart which Ros. See! my dear Dorcas, what we glean'd nourishes a hopeless passion. I blest, like yesterday in Mr. Belville's Geld!

others, Belville's gentle virtues, and knew not [Coming forward, and showing the Corn that 'l was love. Unhappy! lost Rosina!

at the Door. Dor, Lord love thee! but take care of thyself: thou art but tender

The morn returns, in saffron drest, Ros. Indeed it does not hurt me. Shall I But not to sad Rosina rest. put out the lamp?

The blushing morn awakes the strain, Dor Do, dear; the poor must be sparing.

Awakes the tunelul choir ; [Rosina going to put out the Lamp, Dor

But sad Rosina ne'er again cas looks after her and sighs; she re

Shall strike the sprighily lyre. turns hastily.

Rust. [Withoul] To work, my hearts of Ros. Why do you sigh, Dorcas ?

oak, to work; here the sun is balf an hour Dor. I canno' bear it: it's nothing to Phæbe high, and not a stroke struck yet. and me, but thou wast not born to labour.

[Rising and pushing away the Wheel. Enter Rustic, singing, followed by Reupers. Ros. Why should I repine ? beaven, which deprived me of my parents, and my fortune, Rust. See, ye swains, yon streaks of red left me healtb, content, and innocence. Nor Call you from your slothful bed: is it certain that riches lead to happiness. Do Late you tillid ibe fruitful soil; you think the nightingale sings ibe sweeler See! where harvest crowns your toil! for being in a gilded cage ?

Cho. Late you till'd the fruitful soil; Dor. Sweeter, I'll maintain it, than the See! where harvest crowns your toil. poor little linnet that thou pick'dst up hali Rust. As we reap the golden corn, starred under the hedge yesterday; after its Laughing Plenty fills her horn mother had been shot, and brought'st to life What would gilded pomp avail in thy bosom. Let me speak to his honour, Should the peasant's labour fail? he's main kind io the poor.

Cho. What would gilded pomp avail Ros. Not for the world, Dorcas, I want Should the peasant's labour fail? nothing; you have been a mother to me. Rust. Ripen'd fields your cares repay, Dor: Vould I could! Would I could! I

Sons of labour baste away; ha' worked hard and 'arnd money in my Bending, see the waving grain, time; but now I am old and feeble, and am Crown the year, and cheer the swain. push'd about by every body. More's the pity; Cho. Bending, see the waving grain,

Crown the year, and chcer the swain. the world grows wickeder every day.

Rust. Hist! there's his honour. Where are Ros. Your age, my good Dorcas, requires all the lazy Irishmen I bir'd yesterday at rest; go into the cottage, whilst Phæbe and market? I join the gleaners, who are assembling from every part of the village.

Enter Belville, followed by two Irishmer Dor. Many a time have I carried thy dear

and Servants. mother, an infant, in these arms; little did 1 1 Irish. Is it us he's talking of, Paddy? think a child of hers would live to share my Then the devil may thank him for bis good poor pittance. But I wo'not grieve thee. commendalions. [Dorcas enters the Cottage, looking back Bel. You are too severe, Rustic; the poor

affectionalely at Rosina. fellows came three miles this morning; therePhæ. What makes you so melancholy, Ro- fore I made them stop at the manor house to sina? Mayhap it's because you have not a take a little refreshment.



1 Irish. Bless your sweet face, my jewel, Bel. There are twenty coveys within sight and all those who take your part. Bad luck of my house, and the dogs are in fine order. to myself, if I would noi, with all the veins Capt. B. The gamekeeper is this moment of my heart, split the dew before your feet leading them round. I am fir'd at the sight. in a morning

[To Beloille. Rust. If I do speak a little cross, it's for your honour's good.

By dawn to the downs we

ve repair, [The Reapers cut the Corn, and make

With bosoms right jocund and gay, it into Sheaves. Rosina follows, and gleans.

And gain more than pheasant or hareRust. (Seeing Rosina] What a dickens

Gain health by the sports of the day. does this girl do here? Keep back; wait till Mark! mark! to the right hand, preparethe reapers are off the field; do like the other

See Diana!-she points!-see, they rise gleaners.

See, they float on the bosom of air!
Ros. [T'imidly) If I bave done wrong, sir, Fire away! whilst loud echo replies
I will put what I have glean'd down again.

Fire away! [She lets falls the Ears she had gleaned. Bel. How can you be so unfeeling, Rustic?

Hark! the volley resounds to the skies! She is lovely, virtuous, and in want. Let fall

Whilst echo in thunder replies! some ears, that she may glean the more.

In thunder replies, Rust. Your honour is too good by half.

And resounds to the skies, Bel. No more: gather up the corn she has

Fire away! Fire away! Fire away! let fall. Do as I command you.

But where is my little rustic charmer? O! Rust. There, take the whole field, since his there she is: I am transported. [Aside] Pray, honour cbooses it.

brother, is not that the little girl whose dawn[Putting the Corn into her Apron. ing beauty we admired so much last year? Ros. I will not abuse bis goodness. Bel. li is, and more lovely than ever.

I [Retires, gleaning shall dine in the field with my reapers to-day, 2 Irish. Upon my soul now, his honour's brother: will you share our rural' repast, or no churl of the wheat, whate'er he may be have a dinner prepar'd at the manor-house? of the barley ?):

Capt. B. By no means: pray let me be of Bel. [Looking after Rosina] What be- your party; your plan is an admirable one, witching sofiness! There is a blushing, bash- cspecially if your girls are handsome. I'll ful gentleness, an almost infantine innocence walk round the field, and meet you at dinner in that lovely countenance, which it is im- time. possible to behold without emotion! She lurns [Exeunt Belville and Rustic. Captain this way: What bloom on that cheek! 'l'is Belville goes up to Rosina, gleans a fer the blushing down of the peach.

Ears, and presents them to her; she
refuses them, and runs out; he follows

Her mouth, which a smile,
Devoid of all guile,

Enter WILLIAM, speaking at the side Scene.
Half opens to view,
Is the bud of the rose,

Will. Lead the dogs back, James; the cap

tain won't shoot to. day. [Secing Rustic and In the morning, that blows,

Phæbe behind] Indeed, so close! I don't half Impearld with the dew.

like it.
More fragrant her breath

Enter Rustic and PHOEBE.
Than the flow'r-scented heath
At the dawning of day;

Rust. That's a good girl ! Do as I bid you,
The hawthorn in bloom,

and you sban't want encouragement. The lily's perfume,

[He goes up to the Reapers, and William Or the blossoms of May.

comes forward.

Will. O no, I dare say she won't. So, Mrs. Enter Captain Belville, in a Riding-dress. Pbæbe! Capt. B. Good morrow, brother; you are

Phæ. And so, Mr. William, if you go lo early abroad.

that! Bel. My dear Charles, I am happy to see

Will. A new sweetheart, I'll be sworn; you. True, I find, to the first of September 2). and a pretty comely lad he is: but he's rich,

Capt. B. I meant to have been here last and that's enough to win a woman. night, but one of my wheels broke, and I was Phæ. I don't desarve this of you, William: obliged to sleep at a village six miles distant, but I'm rightly sarved, for being such an easy where I left my chaise, and took a boat down fool. You think, mayhap, I'm at my last the river at day-break. But your corn is not prayers; but you may find yourself mistaken. of the ground.

Will. You do right to cry out first; you Bel. You know our barvest is late in the think belike that I did not see you take that north; but you will find all the lands clear'd posy from Harry. on the other side the mountain.

Phæ. And you, belike, that I did not catch Capt. B. And pray, brother, how are the you tying up one, of cornflowers and wild ropartridges this season?

ses, for the miller's maid; but I'll be foolid 1) He gives his bread away willingly enough; but he no longer; I have done with you, Mr. Wil

seems to keep his drink all to himself-Heer being liam.

made from malt and hops. 2) The capiain is a sporiaman, and does not forget the is!

Will. I sban't break my heart, Mrs. Phæbe. of September, the beginning of the shooting-season

The miller's maid loves the ground I walk on.


the green,




Duett. - WILLIAM and PHOEBB. Dor. 'Tis very kind.-And old ageWill. I've kiss'd and I've prattled to fifty fair Ros. He'll tell you that himself. maids,

[Goes into the Cottage. And chang’d them as oft, d'ye see! Dor. I thought so.-Sure, sure, 'tis no sin But of all the fair maidens that dance on lo be old.

Capt. B. You must not judge of me by The maid of the mill for me. others, honest Dorcas. I am sorry for

your Phoe. There's fifty young men have told me misfortunes, and wish to serve you. fine tales,

Dor. And to what, your bonour, may I And call'd me the fairest she:

owe this kindness? But of all the gay wrestlers that sport

Capt. B. You have a charming daughteron the green,

Dor. I thought as much. A vile, wicked Young Harry's the lad for me.

Aside. Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in

Capt. B. Beauty like hers might find a the hedge,

thousand resources in London; the moment Her face like the blossoms in May,

she appears there, she will turn every bead. Her teeth are as white as the new

Dor. And is your bonour sure her own shorn flock, won't turn at the same time?

and Her breath like the new-mado hay.

Capt. B. She shall live in affluence,

take care of you too, Dorcas. Phee. He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree,

Dor. I guess your honour's meaning; but His cheeks are as fresh as the rose;

you are mistakeo, sir. If I must be a trouble

io the dear child,' I had rather owe my bread He looks like a squire of high degree to her labour than her shame. When drest in bis Sunday clothes.

[Goes into the Cottage, and shuts the Door. Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled, etc. Capt. B. These women aslonish me; but I Phoe. There's fifty young men, etc.

won'i give it up so. [Exeunt on different sides of the Stage.

Enter Rustic, crossing the Stage. Rosina runs ucross the Stage ; CAPTAIN A word with


Belville following her.

Rust. I am in a great burry, your honour; Capt. B. Stay and hear me, Rosina. Why I am going to hasten dinner, will you fatigue yourself thus? Only homely Capi. B. I shan't keep you a minute. Take girls are born to work. — Your obstinacy is these five guineas. vain; you shall bear me.

Rust. For whom, sir ? Ros. Why do you stop me, sir? My time Capt. B. For yourself. And this purse. is precious. When the gleaning season is Rust. For whom, sir ? over, will you make up my loss ?

Capt. B. For Rósina; they say she is in Capt. B. Yes.

distress, and wants assistance. Rós. Will it be any advantage to you to Rust. What pleasure it gives me to see make me lose my day's work?

you so charitable!

You are just like your Capt. B. Yes.

brother. Rós. Would it give you pleasure to see Capt. B. Prodigiously. me pass all my days in idleness?


. But why give me money, sir? Capt. B. Yes.

Capt. B. Only to — tell Rosina there is a Ros. We differ greatly then, sir. I only person who is very much interested in ber wish for so much leisure as makes me return happiness. to my work with fresh spirit. We labour all Rust. How much you will please bis hothe week, 'lis true; but then how sweet is nour by this! He takes mightily to Rosita, our rest on Sunday!

and prefers her to all the young women in

the parish. Whilst with village maids I stray,

Capt. B. Prefers her! Ah! you sly rogue! Sweetly wears the joyous day;

[Laying his Hand on Rustic's Shouldet. Cheerful glows my artless breast,

Rust. Your honour's a wag; but I'm sure Mild content the constant guest.

I meant no harm. Capt. B. Mere prejudice, child; you will Capt. B. Give her the money, and tell her know better. I pity you, and will make your she shall never want a friend; but not a word fortune.

lo my brother. Ros. Let me call my mother, sir: I am young, Rust. All's safe, your honour. [Exit Coet

. and can support myself by, my labour; bul Belville] I don't vastly like this business. 4! she is old and helpless, and your charity will the captain's age, this violent charity is a little be well bestow'd. Please to transfer to her duberous ?). Tam his bonour's serrant

, and the bounty you intended for me.

it's my duty to hide nothing from bin. Capt. B. Why-as to that,

go seek his honour; O, here he comes. Ros. I understand you, sir; your compas

Enter BELVILLE. sion does not extend to old women,

Bel. Well, Rustic, hare you any Capt. B. Really—I believe not.

gence to communicate ?

Rust. A vast deal, sir. Your brother be Enter Dorcas.

gins to make good use of his money; be best Ros. You are just come in time, mother. given me these five guineas for myself and I bave met with a generous gentleman, whose this purse for Rosina. charity inclines him to succour youth.

1) Dubious.



me for


Bel: For Rosina! Tis plain he loves her.

ACT II. [Aside), Obey him exactly; but as distress

Scene I.- The sume. renders the mind baughty, and Rosina's situation requires the utmost delicacy. contrive to

Enter Rustic. execute your commission in such a manner that she may noi eren suspect from whence Rust. This purse is the plague of my life; the money comes.

I hate money when it is not my own. I'll Rust. I understand your honour. e’en put in the five guineas he gave Bel. Have you gain'd any intelligence in myself: I don't want it, and they do. They respect to Rosina ?

certainly must find it there. But I hear the Rust. I endeavour'd to get all I could from cottage-door open. [Retires a little. the old woman's grand daughter; but all she knew was, that she was no kin to Dorcas, Enter Dorcas and Rosina from the Cottage. and that she had had a good bringing-up; but

Dorcas with a great Basket on her Arm, here are the labourers.

filled with Skeins of Thread.

Dor. I am just going, Rosina, to carry Enter Dorcas, Rosina, and Phoebe. this thread to the weaver's. Bel. But I don't see Rosina. Dorcas, you

Ros. This basket is too heavy for you: must come too, and Phæbe.

pray Jet me carry it. Dor. We can't deny your honour.

[Takes the Basket from Dorcas, and Ros. I am asham'd; but you command, sir.

sels it down on the Bench. Dor. No, no.

[Peevishly Enter CAPTAIN Belville, followed by the Ros. If you love me, only take half; this Reapers.

evening, or to-morrow morning, I will carry

the rest.-[Takes Part of the Skeins out of the Bel. By this fountain's flow'ry side, Basket and lays them on the Bench, look

Drest in nature's blooming pride, ing affectionately on Dorcas] There, be
Where the poplar trembles high, angry with me if you please.
And the bees in clusters fly;

Dor. No, my sweet lamb, I am not angry;
Whilst thc herdsman on the hill

but beware of men. Listers to the falling rill,

Ros. Have you any doubts of my conduct,
Pride and cruel scorn away,

Let us share the festive day.

Dor. Indeed I have not, love; and yet I
Taste our pleasures ye


am uneasy

may, Ros. This is Nature's holiday.

Enter Captain Belville, unperceived. Bel. Simple Nature ye who prize, Life's fantastic forms despise.

Go back to the reapers, whilst I carry this

thread. Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may, Ros. I'll go this moment. This is Nature's holiday. I

Dor. But as I walk but slow, and 'tis a Capt. B. Blushing Bell, with downcast eyes,

good way, you may chance to be at home

before me; so take the key.
Sighs and knows not why she sighs;

Ros. I will.
Tom is near her-we shall know-
How he eyes her-Is't not so?

Capt. B. [Aside, while Dorcas feels in

her Pockets for the Key] Rosina to be at Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who


home before Dorcas! How lucky! I'll slip inThis is Nature's holiday.

to the house, and wait her coming, if 'tis till

midnight. Will. He is fond, and she is shy; He would kiss her!-lie!-ch, fie!

[Hegoes unperceived by them into the Cottage. Mind thy sickle, let her be;

Dor. Let nobody go into the house.

Ros. I'll take care ; but first I'll double-lock By and by she'll follow thee.

the door. Cho. Busy censors, hence, away;

[While she is locking the Door, Dorcas, This is Nature's holiday.

going lo take up the Basket, sees the Purse.

Dor. Good lack! What is here! a purse, Now we'll quaffthe nut-brown ale,

as I live! Rust. Then we'll tell the sportive tale;

Ros. How !
Dor. All is jest, and all is glee,
All is youthlul jollity.

Dor. Come, and see; 'lis a purse indeed.

Ros. Heav'ns! 'tis full of gold. Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may, Dor. We must put up a bill at the churchThis is Nalure's holiday.

gale, and restore it to the owner. The best Lads and lasses, all advance,

way is to carry the money to his honour, Phoe. Carol blithe, and form the dance;

and get him to keep it till the owner is found. Irish Girl. Trip it lightly while you may,

You shall go with it, love. 1 Irish. This is Nalure's holiday.

Ros. Pray excuse me, I always blush so.

Dor. 'Tis nothing but childishness: but his Cho. Trip it lightly while you may, honour will like your bashfulness better than This is Nature's holiday. too much courage.

[E.rit. [All rise; the Dancers come down the Stage Ros. I cannot support his presence-my

through the Sheaves of Corn, which are embarrassment-my confusion-a strongersenremoved; the Dance begins, and finishes sation than that of gratitude agitates my heart. the Act.

-Yet hope in my situation were madness.



If chance some fairing caught her eye, Sweet transports, gentle wishes go!

The riband gay or silken glove, In vain his charms have gain’d my heart; With eager haste I ran to buy; Since fortune, still to love a foe,

For what is gold compar'd to lore? And cruel duty, bid us. part.

My posy on her bosom placd, Ah! why does duly chain the mind,

Could Harry's sweeter scents exbale! And part those souls which love bas join'd? Her auburn locks my riband grac'd, Enter WILLIAM.

And flutter'd in the wanton gale. Pray, William, do you know of any body

With scorn she hears me now complain, that has lost a purse?

Nor can my rustic presents move: Will. I knows nothing about it.

Her heart presers a richer swain, Ros. Dorcas, however, has found one.

And gold, alas! has banish'd love. Will. So much the better for she.

Will. [Coming back] Let's part friendly Ros. You will oblige me very much if you howsomever. Bye?), Phæbe: I shall always will carry it to Mr. Belville, and beg him to wish you well. keep it till the owner is found.

Pha. Bye, William. Will. Since you desire it, I'll go: it shan't [Cries, wiping her Eyes with her Apron. be the lighter for my carrying.

Will. My heart begins to melt a little. Ros. That I am sure of, William. [Erit

. [.Aside] I lov'd' you very well once, Phæbe :

but you are grown so cross, and bave such Enter PHOEBE.

vagariesPhæ. There's William; but I'll pretend not Phæ. I'm sure I never had no vagaries to see him.

with you, William. But go; may bap Kate

may be angry. Henry cull'd the flow'ret's bloom,

Will. And who cares for she? I never Marian lov'd the soft perfume,

minded her anger, nor her coaxing neither, Had playful kiss'd, but prudence near till you were cross to me. Whisper'd timely in her ear,

Pha. [Holding up her Hands] O the faSimple Marian, ah! beware ;

ther! I cross to you, William? Touch them not, for love is there.

Will. Did not you tell me, this very mornThrows away her Nosegay. While she is ing, as how you had done wil me?

singing, William turns, looks at her, Phoe. One word's as good as a thousand. whistles, and plays with his Stick. Do you love me, William? Will. That's Harry's posy; the slut likes Will. Do I love thee? Do I love dancing me still.

on the green better than thrashing in the Phee. That's a copy of his countenance, I'm barn? Do I love a wake; or a barvest-home? sartin; he can no more help following me nor Phæ. Then I'll never speak to Harry again he can be hang’d.

the longest day I have to live. [-Aside. William crosses again, singing. Will. I'll turn my back o'the miller's maid of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, the first time I meet her. The maid of the mill, for me.

Phæ. Will you indeed, and indeed? Phæ. I'm ready to choke wi' madness; but Will. Marry will l; and more nor that, I'll not speak first, an I die for’t.

I'll go speak to the parson this moment—I'mi [William sings, throwing up his Stick happier--zooks, I'm happier nor a lord or a and catching it.

squire of five hundred a year. Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the hedge,

Duett. - PHOEBE and WILLIAM. Her face like the blossoms in May. Phæ. In gaudy 'courts, with aching hearts, Phæ. I can't bear it no longer-you vile,

The greal at fortune rail: ungrateful, parfidious – But it's no matter- The bills may bigber honours claim, I can't think what I could see in you-Harry

But peace is in the rale. loves me, and is a thousand times more hand(Sings, sobbing al every Word.

Will. See high-born dames, in rooms of state, Of all the gay wrestlers that spost on ihe

With midnight revels pale;

green, Young Harry's the lad for me.

No youth admires their fading charms, Will . He's yonder a reaping: shall I call

For beauty's in the sale, him ?

offers io go. Both. Amid the shades the virgin's sighs Phæ. My grandmother leads me the life

Add fragrance to the gale: of a dog; and it's all along of you.

So they that will may take the hill, Will. Well, then she'll be belter temper'd

Since love is in the vale.

[Ereunt, Arm in Arm. Phæ. I did not value ber scolding of a

Enter BELVILLE. brass farthing, when I thought as how you Brl. I tremble at the impression this lovely

girl bas made on my heari. My cheerfulness Will. Wasn't I true to you? Look in my has left me, and I am grown insensible eren face, and say that.

to the delicious pleasure of makinsg those happy

who depend on my protection. When bidden to the wake or fair,

The joy of each free-hearted swain, Ere bright Rosina met my, eyes, Till Phobe promis'd to be there,

How peaceful pass'd the joyous day! I loiter'd, last of all the train.

1) Good bye,-shorlened from good bo with you


[ocr errors]

were true to me.



« ZurückWeiter »