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sider thai, and judge of me by yourself; you And all their discourse is of marriage. were once young and inexperienced as I am.

[Exit. Mrs. D. This is mighty pretty, romantic

SCENE II.-A Greenhouse. stuff! but you learn it out of your play-books and novels. Girls in my time had other em

Enter Young MEADOWS. ploynients, we worked at our needles, and Young M. I am glad I had the precaution kept ourselves from idle thoughts: before I was to bring this suit of clothes in my bundle

, your age, I had finished with my own singers though I hardly know myself in them again

, a complete set of chairs and a firescreen in they appear so strange, and feel so unweildy. tent-stitch; four counterpanes in Marseilles However, my gardener's jacket goes on no quilting; and the crced and the ten command-more. - I wonder this girl does not come; ments in the hair of our family: it was fram'd (Looking at his Watch) perhaps she won't and glaz’d, and hung over the parlour chim-come.- -Why, then I'll go into the village, ney-piece, and your poor, dear grandfather take a post-chaise, and depart without any was prouder of it than of e’er a picture in further ceremony. his house. I never looked into a book, but when I said my prayers, except it was the Complete Housewife, or the great family re

How much superior beauty awes, ceipt-book: whereas you are always at your

Tbe coldest bosoms find; studies! Ah, I never knew a woman come to But with resistless force it draws, good, that was fond of reading.

To sense and sweetness join'd. Luc. Well pray, madam, let me prevail on The casket, where, to outward show, you to give me the key tó let Mr. Eustace The workman's art is seen, out, and I promise I never will proceed a step Is doubly valu'd, when we know further in this business without your advice It holds a gem within. and approbation.

Hark! she comes. Mrs. D. Have I not told you already, my Enter Sir William Meadows and Hawresolution ? — Where are my clogs and my boanet? I'll go out to my brother in the fields; I'm a fool, you know, child; now let's see Young M. Confusion! my father! Whal can what the wits will think of themselves-Don't this mean? hold me

[Exit. Sir W. Tom, are not you a sad boy, Tom, Luc. I'm not going; I have thought of a to bring me a hundred and forty miles bere way to be even with you, so you may do as - May I never do an ill turn, but you deserve you please.

[Exit. to have your head broke; and I have a good Hodge. Well, I thought it would come to mind, partly-Wbat, sirrah, don't you this, I'll be shot if I didn't-So here's a fine it worih your while to speak to me? job - But what can they do to me? — They Young M. Forgive me, sir; I own I have can't send me to gaol for carrying a letter, been in a fault. seeing there was no treasun in it; and how Sir W. In a fault! to run away from me was I obligated to know my master did not because I was going to do you good-May ! allow of their meetings:-The worst they can never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if I did do is to turn me off, and I am sure the place not pick out as fine a girl for him, partly, as is no such great purchase-indeed, I should any in England! and the rascal run away be sorry to leave Mrs. Rosetla, seeing as how from me, and came here and turn'd gardener. matters are so near being brought to an endl And pray what did you propose to yourself, betwixt us; but she and I may keep company Tom? I know you were always fond of boall as one; and I find Madge has been speaking tany, as they call it; did you intend to keep with Gaffer Broadwheels, the waggoner, about the trade going, and advertise fruit-trees and her carriage up to London: so that I have got flowering-shrubs, to be had

at Meadows' rid of she, and I am sure I have reason to be nursery ? main glad of it, for she led me a wearisome Haw. No, sir William, I apprehend the lise-But that's the way of them all. young gentleman designed to lay by the pro

fession; for he has quilted the habit already.

Young M. I am so astonished to see you A plague o'these wenches, they make such here, sir, that I don't know what to say; a pother,

I assure you,


you When once they have let'n a man bave bave returned home to you directly. Pray, his will;

sir, how did you find me out? They're always a whining for something or Sir W. No matter, Tom, no matter: it was other,

partly by accident, as a body may say; but And cry he's unkind in his carriage. what does that signify? — tell me, boy, how What tho's he speaks them ne'er so fairly, stands your stomach lowards matrimony: do Still they keep trazing, leazing on: you think you could digest a wife now? You cannot persuade 'em

Young M. Pray, sir, don't mention it: I shall
Till promise you've made 'em; always behave myself as dutiful son ought
And after they've got it,

I will never marry without
They tell you-add rot it,

I bope you won't force me to do it against Their character's blasted, they're ruin'd, un- my own. done :

Sir W. Is not this mighty provoking, master Then to be sure, sir,

Hawthoru? Why, sirrah, did you ever see the There is but one cure, sir, lady I designed for you?



had not come,

but I should

your conscat, and


Young M. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's me-, kind of embarrassment, and I don't wonder rit; but, at present, I am not disposed- at it; but this letter, which I received from

Haw. Nay, but, young gentleman, fair and him a few days before I left my father's house, softly; you should pay some respect to your will, I apprehend, expound the riddle. He father in this matter.

cannot be surprised that I ran away from a Sir W. Respect, master Hawthorn! I tell geptleman who expressed so much dislike to you he shall marry her, or I'll disinherit bim! me; and what has happened, since chance There's once. Look you, Tom, not to make bas brought us together in masquerade, there any more words of the matter, I have brought is no occasion for me to inform bim of. the lady here with me, and I'll see you con- Young M. What is all this? Pray don't tracted before we part; or you sball delve and make a jest of me! plant cucumbers as long as you live.

Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, Young M. Have you brought the lady here, if it is not truth! this is my friend's daughter. sir? I am sorry for it.

Young M. Sir! Sir W. Why sorry? What, then, you won't Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In marry

her? We'll see that! Pray, master Haw- short, you have not been a more wbimsical thorn, conduct the fair one in. Ay, sir, you gentleman, than I have a gentlewoman; but may fret and dance about, trot at the rate of you see we are designed for one another, fifteen miles an hour, if you please; but, marry 'tis plain. whip me, I'm resolved.

Young M. I know not, madam, wbat I ei

ther hear or see; a thousand things are crowdEnter ROSETTA.

ing on my imagination; while, like one just Haw. Here is the lady, sir William. awakened from a dream, 'I doubt which is

Sir W. Come in, madam; but turn your reality, which delusion. face from bim-he would not marry you be- Sir W. Well then, Tom, come into the cause he had not seen you: but I'll let him air a bit, and recover yourself. know my choice shall be his, and he shall Young M. Nay, dear sir, have a little paconsent to marry' you before he sees you, or tience; do you give her to me? not an acre of estate – Pray, sir, walk this Sir W. Give her to you! ay, that I do, way:

and my blessing into the bargain. Young M. Sir, I cannot help thinking yourt. Young M. Then, sir, I am the happiest man conduct a little extraordinary; but, since you in the world! I inquire no further; here I fix urge me so closely, I must tell you my af- the utmost limits of my hopes and happiness. fections are engaged.

Sir W. How, Tom, how?

Young M. l' was determined, sir, to bave Young M. All I wish in her obtaining, got the better of my inclination, and never

Fortune can no more impart:

Ros. have done a thing which I knew would be

Let my eyes, my thoughts explaining, disagreeable to you.

Speak the feelings of my heart. Sir W. And pray, sir, who are your affec- Young M. Joy and pleasure never ceasing,

Ros. tions engaged to ? Let me know thal.

Love with length of years increasing, Young M. To a person, sir, whose rank Together. Thus my beart and hand surrender, and fortune may, be no recommendation to

Here my faith and truth I plight; her, but whose charms and accomplishments

Constant still, and kind and tender, entitle her to a monarch. I am sorry, sir,

May our flames burn ever bright! it's impossible for me to comply with your Huw. Give you joy, sir; and you, fair lady commands, and I hope you will not be of- -And, under favour, I'll salute you too, if fended if I quit your presence.

there's no fear of jealousy. Sir W. Not I, not in the least: go about Young M. And may I believe this? Pr’ythee your business.

dear Roselta! Young M. Sir, I obey:

slos. Step into the house, and I'll tell you Haw. Now, madam; is the time.

every thing; I must entreat the good offices [Roselta advances. Young Meadows turns of sir William and Mr. Hawthorn immediaround and sees her.

tely; for I am in the utmost uneasiness about

my poor friend, Lucinda. When we see a lover languish

Haw. Why, what's the matter ?
And bis truth and honour prove,

Ros. I don't know; but I have reason to Ab! how sweet to heal his anguish, fear I left ber just now in . very disagreeable And repay bim love for love.

circumstances: however I hope if there's any Sir W. Well, Tom, will you go away from mischief fallen out between her father and me now?

her loverHaw. Perhaps, sic William, your son does Haw. The music-master! I thought so, not like the lady; and, if so, pray don't put Sir W. What, is there a lover in the case? a force upon his inclination.

May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, Young M. You need not have taken this so I am! for we'll make a double wedding; method, sir, to let me see you are acquainted and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to with my folly, whatever my inclinations are. London, to show the brides some of the plea

Sir É, Well but, Tom, suppose I give my sures of the town. And, master Hawthorn, consent to your marrying this young woman? you shall be of the party--Conie, children, gó Young M. Your consent, sir?

before us. Ros. Come, sir William, we have carried Haw. Thank you, sir William ; I'll go

inThe jest far enough: I see your son is in a to the house wiih you, and to church to see

tell me,


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the young folks married; but as to London, heartily your servant; may I never do an ill I beg to be excused.

turn, but I am glad to meet you.

Jus. W. Pray, sir William, are you acIf ever I'm catch'd in those regions of smoke, quainted with this person? That seat of confusion and noise,

Sir W. What, with Jack Eustace? wby May I ne'er know the sweets of a slumber he's my kinsman: his mother and I were couunbroke,

sin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very Nor the pleasure the country enjoys. worihy young fellow; may I never do an ill ay more, let them take me, to punish my sin, turn, if I tell a word' of a lie.

Where, gaping, the cocknies they fleece; Jús. W. Well but, sir William, let me tell Clap me up with their monsters, cry, masters you, you know nothing of the matter; this walk in,

man is a music-master; a thrummer of wire, And show me for twopence a - piece. and a scraper of catgut, and teaches my daugh

[Exeunt. ter to sing SCENĖ III.-JUSTICE WOODCOCK's Hall.

Sir W. What, Jack Euslace a music-master!

no, no; I know him better. Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, MRS. DEBORAH Eust. 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to carWoodcock, LUCINDA, Eustace, and Hodge. ry on this absurd farce any longer;-What

Mrs D. Why, brother, do you think I that gentleman tells you is very true, sir; I can't hear, or see, or make use of my senses? am no music-master, indeed. I tell you, I left that fellow locked up in her Jus. W. You are not, you own it then? closet; and, while. I have been with you, they Eust. Nay more, sir, I am, as this lady has have broke open the door, and got him out represented me, [Pointing to Mrs. Deborah] again.

your daughter's lover: whom, with her own Jus. W. Well, you hear what they say. consent, I did intend to have carried off this

Mrs. D. I care not what they say; it's you right; but now that sir William Meadows encourage

them in their impudence-Harkye, is here, to tell you who and what I am, I bussy, will you face me down that I did not throw myself upon your generosity; from lock the fellow up ?

which I expect greater advantages than I could Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you reap from any imposition on your unsuspimean; when you talk intelligibly, I'll answer cious nature. you.

Mrs. D. Well, brother, what have you to Eust. Seriously, madam, this is carrying say for yourself now? You have made a prethe jest a little too far.

cious day's work of it! Had my advice been Mrs. D. Wbat, then, I did not catch you taken! Oh, I am ashamed of



you together in her chamber, nor overhear your are a weak man, and it can't be help'd; howdesign of going off to-night, nor find the ever, you should let wiser heads direct you. bundles packed up

Luc. Dear papa, pardon me. Eust. Ha, ha, ha.

Sir W. Ay, do, sir, forgive ber; my cou. Luc Why, aunt, you rave. sin Jack will make ber a good husband,

1'11 Mrs. D. Brother, as I am a Christian wo-answer for it. man, she confessed the whole affair to me Ros. Stand out of the way, and let me from first to last; and in this very place was speak two or three words to his worship.-down upon her marrow-bones for half an Come, my dear sir, though you refuse all the hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you. world, I am sure you can deny me nothing: Hodge. Oh Lord! Oh Lord !

love is a venial fault You know what I mean. Mrs. D. What, sirrah, would you brazen -Be reconciled to your daughter, I conjure me too! Take that.

[Boxes him. you, by the memory of our past affectionsHodge. I wish you would keep your hands What, not a word? to yourself! you strike me, because you have

AIR, been telling his wcrship stories.

Go, naughly man, I can't abide you; Jus. W. Why, sister, you are tipsy! Are then our rows so soon forgot?

Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother! - 1-ihat never Ah! now I see if I had tried you, touch a drop of any thing strong from year's What would have been my hopesul lot. end to year's end; but now and then a little anniseed water, when I have got the colic. .

But here I charge you-Make them happy; Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complain

Bless the fond pair, and crown their bliss:

Come, be a dear, good natur'd pappy, ing of the stomach ach all day; and may have taken too powerful a dose of

And I'll reward you with a kiss. cordial.

your Jus. W. Come, come, ! see well enough Mrs. D. Come, turn out of the house, and how it is; this is a lie of her own invention, be thankful that my brother does not bang ty make herself appear wise: but, you simple-you, for he could do it; he's a justice of ton, did you not know I must find you out? peace ;-turn out of the house, I say:

Jus. W. Who gave you authority to turn Enter Sir William Meadows, HAWTHORN, him out of the house?--- be shall stay where Rosetta, and young Meadows.

he is. Young M. Bless me, sir! look who is yonder. Mrs. D. He shan't

marry my niece. Sir W. Cocksbones, Jack, honest Jack, are Jus. W. Shan't he! but I'll show you the

difference now; I say he shall marry her, Eust. Plague on't, this rencounter is un- and what will you do about it? lucky-Sir William, your servant.

Mrs. D. And you will give him your estate Sir W. Your servant, again; and again, too, will you?

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you there?

Jus. W. Yes, I will.

to make up the company of your statute ball; Mrs. D. Why I'm sure he's a vagabond. yonder'se music too, I see; shall we enjoy

Jus. W. I like him the better; I would have ourselves? him a vagabond. Mrs. D. Brother, brother!

Enter Villagers, etc. Haw. Come, come, madam, all's very well; If so, give me your hand. and I see my neighbour is what I always Jus. W. Why here's my hand, and we thought him, a man of sense and prudence. will enjoy ourselves. Heaven bless you both,

Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, but I children, I say,

Jus. W. Here, young fellow, take my daugh- Hence with cares, complaints, and frowning, ter, and bless you both together; but hark Welcome jollity and joy; you, no money till I die, Sister Deborah, Ev'ry grief in pleasure drowning, you're a fool.

Mirth this happy night employ: Mrs. D. Ah brother, brother, you're a silly Let's to friendship do our duty, old man.

Laugh and sing some good old strain; Haw. Adds me, sir, here are some of your Drink a health to love and beautyneighbours come to visit you, and I suppose! May they long in triumph reign.

say so too.


THE MAID OF THE MILL, Com. Opera, by Isaac Bickerstaffe. Acted at Covent Garden 1765. This is taken from Richardson's novel of Pamela, and ran thirty-five nights. In the year 1782, Mr. O'Keeffe added several airs to it, with which it was revived with applause. It has since been reduced to an afterpiece, and performed in that stato at Covent Garden. It has been observed, that, “ike Pamelu, this is one of those delusions which frequently destroy the proper subordination of society. The village beauty, whose simplicity and innocence are her native charms, smitten with the reveries of rank and splendour, becomes affected and retired, disdaining her situation and every one about her."-We do not believe, however, that many io slances of this could be adduced.

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no doubt but you'll find enow for a body to do. Scene I. – 4 rural Prospect, with a Mill

Fair. What dost mutter? Is't not a strange at Work.

Several People employed plague that thou canst never go about any about it; on one side a House, Patty read-thing with a good will; murrain take it, what's ing in the Window; on the other a Barn, come o'er the boy? So then thou wilt not where Fanny sits mending a Nel; Giles set a hand to what I have desired thee? appears at a distance in the Mill; Fair.

Ralph. Why don't you speak to suster FIELD and Ralph taking Sacks from a she came home to us, after my old lady's

Pat do do some thing then? ( thought when Cart.

death, she was to have been of some use in CHORUS,

the house; but instead of that, she sits there Free from sorrow, free from strife, O bow blest the miller's life!

all day, reading outlandish books, dressed like

a fine madumasel; and the never a word you Cheerful working through the day, Still he laughs and sings away.

Fair. Sirrah, don't speak so disrespectfully Nought can vex him,

of thy sister; thou wilt never have the titbe Nought perplex him,

of her deserts. While there's grist to make him gay.

Ralph. Why, I'll read and write with her

for what she dares; and as for playing on Let the great enjoy the blessings

the hapsichols ?), I thinks her rich godmother By indulgent fortune sent:

might have learn'd her something more proWhat can wealth, can grandeur offer, perer, seeing she did not remember to leave More than plenty and content?

her a legacy at last. Fair. Well done, well done; 'lis a sure Fair. That's none of thy business, sirrah. sigo work goes on inerrily when folks sing Ralph. A farmer's wife painting pictures, at it. Stop the mill there; and dost hear, and playing on the hapsicols; why I'll be son Ralph, hoist yon sacks of flour upon this bang'd now, for all as old as she is, if sbe cart, lad, and drive it up to lord Aimworth's: knows any more about milking a cow,

than coming from London last night with strange I do of sewing a pellicoat. company, no doubt there are calls enough for ‘Fair. Ralph, thou hast been drinking this it by this time.

morning. Ralph. Ay, feyther, whether or not, there's ») Herpsichord.


my lord's

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Ralph. Well, if so be as I have, it's no- Fair. Well, Patty, master Goodman, my thing out of your pocket, nor mines neither. lord's steward' has been with me just now,

Fair. Who has been giving thee liquor, and I find we are like to have great doings; sirrah?

his lordship has brought down sir Harry S5Ralph. Why it was wind ?)—a gentleman camore and his family, and there is more guve me.

company expected in a few days. Fair. A gentleman!

Pat. I know sir Harry very well; he is by Ralph. Yes, a gentleman that's come piping marriage a distant relation of . hot from London: he is below at the Cat and Fair. Pray what sort of a young body is the Bagpipes; Icod he rides a choice bit of a nag. daughter there? I think she used to be with you I dare to say she'd fetch as good as forty at the castle, three or four summers ago,

when pound at ever a fair in all England. my young lord was out upon his travels.

Fair. A fig's end for wbat she'd fetch; mind Pat. Oh! very often; 'she was a great fathy business, or by the lord Harry

vourite of my lady's: pray, father, is sbe Ralph. Why I won't do another hand's come down? turn 10-day now, so that's flat.

Fair. Why you know the report last night

, Fair. Thou wilt not


my lord's going to be married. By Ralph. Why no I wont; so what argufies what I can learn she is; and there is likely your putting yourself in a passion, feyther? to be a nearer relationship between the fac I've promised to go back to the gentleman; milies, ere long. It seems' his lordship. was and I don't know but what he's å lord too; not o'er willing for the match, but the friends and maybap be may do more for me than you on both sides in London pressed it so bard: thinks of.

then there's a swinging fortune: master GoodFair. Well, son Ralph, run thy gait; but man tells me, a malier of twenty or thirty remember I tell thee, ihou wilt repent this thousand pounds. untowardness.

Pat. If it was a million, falher, it would Ralph. Why, how shall I repent it? May- not be more than my lord 'Aimwortb deserhap you'll turn me out of your service;'a ves; I suppose the wedding will be celebrated match; with all hearts- Icod I don't care three here at the mansion-house. brass pins,

Fair. So it is thought, as

soon as things can be properly prepared-And now, Patly

, If that's all you want, who the plague will if I could but see thee a little merry--Come, be sorry?

less thee, pluck up thy spirits-To be sure 'Twere better by half to dig stones in a quarry; thou hast sustained, in ibc death of thy lady, For my sharc, l'm weary of what is got by: a heavy loss; she was a parent to thee; nay, S'flesh ! here's such a racket, such scolding and better, inasmuch as she took thee when and coiling,

thou wert but a babe, and gave thee an eduYou're never content, but when folks are a toiling, cation which thy natural parents could not And drudging like horses from morning till afford to do. night.

Pat. Ah! dear father, don't mention what You think I'm afraid, but the diff'rence to

perhaps has been my greatest misfortune.

Fair. Nay then, Patly, wbat's become of First yonder's your shovel; your sacks too l

all thy sense ibat people talk so much about?

-But I have something to say to thee which Henceforward take care of your matters who I need not tell thee, my child, that a young

I would have thee consider seriously-I believe will: They're welcome to slave for your wages she has any thing about her to draw people's

maiden, after she is marriageable, especially if who need'em; Tol lol de rol lol, I have purchas'd my freedom, cross 'accidents; so that the sooner she's out of

notice, is liable to ill tongues, and a many, And never hereafter shall work at the mill. harm's way the better. I say, then, a young


. woman's best safeguard is a good husband. Fair. Dear heart, dear heart! I protest this Now there is our neighbour, farmer Giles; ungracious boy puts me quite beside myself

. he is a sober, honest, indust: ious, young felPally, my dear, come down into the yard a low, an done of the wealthiest in these parts; little, and keep me company-and you, thieves, he is greatly taken with thee; and it is not vagabonds, gipsies, out here! 'tis you de- the first time I have told thee I should be bauch my son. [Drives off Gipsies. glad to base him for a son-in-law,

Pat. And I have told you as often, father, Enter Party from the House.

I would submit myself entirely to your direc

tion; whatever you think proper for me is so. In love to pine and languish,

Fair. Why that's spoken like a dutiful, Yet know your passion vain;

sensible girl; get thee in, then, and leave me To barbour heart-felt anguish,

!0 manage it-Perbaps our neighbour Giles Yet fear to tell your pain:

is not a gentleman; but what are the greatest What powers unrelenting,

part of our country gentlemen good for? Severer ills inventing,

Pat. Very true, satber. [Exit into the Cottage. Can sharpen pangs like these;

Enter GILES. Where days and nights tormenting, Giles. Well, master Fairfield, you and Yield not a moments casc ?

miss Pat have had a long discourse together; 1) The country way of prononneing wino.

did you tell her that I was come down?

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