Jus. W. Stay, where is the place? Oh, here: the manners to knock at the door first-What -I am come in quest of my runaway, and does the wench stand for?

write this at an inn in your village, while Madge. I want to know if his worship's at I am swallowing a morsel of dinner: be- home?

cause, not having the pleasure of your Hodge. Well, what's your business with acquaintance, I did not care to intrude, his worship?

without giving you notice. Whoever this Madge. Perhaps you will hear that-Lookye. person is, he understands good manners. I Hodge, it does not signify talking, I am come, beg leave to wait on you, sir; but desire once for all, to know what you intends to do you would keep my arrival a secret, par- for I won't be made a fool of any longer. ticularly from the young man. Hodge. You won't?

WILLIAM MEADOWS.

Madge. No, that's what I won't, by the be I'll assure you, a very well worded, civil let-man that ever wore a head; I am the make ter. Do you know any thing of the person game of the whole village upon your account. who writes it, neighbour? and I'll try whether your master gives you toleration in your doings.

Haw. Let me consider-Meadows-by dad, I belive it is sir William Meadows of Northamptonshire; and, now I remember, I heard some time ago that the heir of that family had absconded, on account of a marriage that was disagreeable to him. It is a good many years since I have seen sir William, but we were once well acquainted: and, if you please, sir, I will go and conduct him to the house. Jus. W. Do so, master Hawthorn, do soBut what sort of a man is this sir William Meadows? Is he a wise man?

Hodge. You will?

Madge. Yes, that's what I will, his worsh shall be acquainted with all your pranks, an see how you will like to be sent for a soldie Hodge. There's the door; take a friend advice, and go about your business. Madge. My business is with his worship, and I won't go till I sees him.

Hodge. Look you, Madge, if you make any of your orations here, never stir if I don't set the dogs at you-Will you be gone? Madge. I won't.

Hodge. Here, Towzer, [Whistling] wh

Haw. There is no occasion for a man that has five thousand pounds a year, to be a conjurer; but I suppose you ask that question whu, whu. because of this story about his son; taking it for granted, that wise parents make wise children.

Jus. W. No doubt of it, master Hawthorn, no doubt of it-I warrant we shall find now, that this young rascal has fallen in love with some mynx, against his father's consent-Why, sir, if I had as many children as king Priam had, that we read of at school, in the destruction of Troy, not one of them should serve

me so.

Haw. Well, well, neighbour, perhaps not; but we should remember when we were young ourselves; and I was as likely to play an old don such a trick in my day, as e'er a spark in the hundred; nay, between you and me, I had done it once, had the wench been as willing

as I.

AIR.

My Dolly was the fairest thing!

Her breath disclos'd the sweets of spring;
And if for summer you would seek,
'Twas painted in her eye, her cheek;
Her swelling bosom, tempting ripe,
Of fruitful autumn was the type:
But, when my tender tale I told,
I found her heart was winter cold.

Jus. W. Ah, you were always a scape-grace rattle-eap.

AIR.

Was ever poor fellow so plagu'd with a vixen?

Zawns! Madge, don't provoke me, mind what I say;

You've chose a wrong parson for play your tricks on,

So pack up your alls and be trudging away;

You'd better be quiet,
And not breed a riot;
'Sblood, must I stand prating with you be
all day?

I've got other matters to mind;
Mayhap you may think me an ass
But to the contrary you'll find;

A fine piece of work by the mass'

Enter ROSETTA.

Ros. Sure I heard the voice of discord her -as I live, an adınirer of mine, and, if I take not, a rival-I'll have some sport w them--how now, fellow servant, what's matter?

Hodge. Nothing, Mrs. Rosetta, only the young woman wants to speak with his w ship-Madge, follow me.

Madge, No, Hodge, this is your fine madam, Haw. Odds heart, neighbour Woodcock, but I am as good flesh and blood as she, as don't tell me, young fellows will be young have as clear a skin too, tho'f 1 mayn't go fellows, though we preach till we're hoarse gay; and now she's here, I'll tell her a piest again; and so there's an end on't. [Exeunt. of my mind.

SCENE III.-JUSTICE WOODCOCK'S Hall.

Enter HODGE and MADge.

Hodge. So, mistress, who let you in?
Madge. Why, I let myself in.

Hodge. Indeed! Marry come up! why then pray let yourself out again. Times are come to a pretty pass; I think you might have had

Hodge. Hold your tongue, will you? Madge. No, I'll speak if I die for it. Ros. What's the matter, I say? Hodge. Why nothing, I tell you;-Madg Madge. Yes, but it is something; it's along of she, and she may be ashamed herself.

Ros. Bless me, child, do you direct you discourse to me?

I

Madge. Yes, I do, and to nobody else; there was not a kinder soul breathing than he was till of late; I had never a cross word from him till he kept you company; but all the girls about there is no such thing as keeping a sweetheart for you.

say,

Ros. Do you hear this, friend Hodge?

Hodge. Why, you don't mind she, I hope; but if that vexes her, I do like you, I do; my mind runs upon nothing else; and if so be as you was agreeable to it, I would marry you to-night, before to-morrow.

Madge. You're a nasty monkey; you are parjur'd, you know you are, and you deserve to have your eyes tore out.

Hodge. Let me come at her-I'll teach you to call names, and abuse folk,

Madge. Do; strike me;-you a man! Ros. Hold, hold-we shall have a battle here presently, and I may chance to get my cap ore off-Never exasperate a jealous woman, tis taking a mad bull by the horns-Leave ne to manage her.

Then why should not I the same maxim
pursue,

And better my fortune as other girls do?
[Exit.

SCENE IV.-A Chamber.
Enter ROSETTA and LUCINDA,
Ros. Ha! ha! ha! Oh admirable, most de
lectably ridiculous. And so your father is
content he should be a music-master, and will
have him such, in spite of all your aunt can
say to the contrary?

Luc. My father and he, child, are the best companions you ever saw and have been singing together the most hideous duets! Bobbing Joan, and Old Sir Simon the King: heaven knows were Eustace could pick them up: but Ros. No, no, it will be more for my credit, he has gone through half the contents of Pills o get the better of her by fair means-I war-to purge Melancholy with him. Grant I'll bring her to reason.

Hodge. You manage her! I'll kick her.

Ros. And have you resolved to take wing

Hodge. Well, do so then--But may I de- to-night? end upon you? when shall I speak to the arson?

Luc. This very night, my dear: my swain will go from hence this evening, but no furRos. We'll talk of that another time-Go. ther than the inn, where he has left his horHodge. Madge, good bye. [Exit. ses; and, at twelve precisely, he will be with Ros. The brutality of this fellow shocks me! a post-chaise at the little gate that opens from -Oh men, men-you are all alike-A bumkin the lawn into the road, where I have promised ere, bred at the barn door; had he been to meet him.

company.

Luc. We shall slip out when the family are
asleep, and I have prepared Hodge already.
Well, I hope we shall be happy.
Ros. Never doubt it.

AIR.

rought up in a court, could he have been Ros. Then depend upon it, I'll bear you tore fashionably vicious! show me the lord, quire, colonel, or captain of them all, can utdo bim! [the place any longer. Madge. I am ready to burst, I can't stay in Ros. Hold, child, come hither. Madge. Don't speak to me, don't you. Ros. Well, but I have something to say to ɔu of consequence, and that will be for your od; I suppose this fellow promised you arriage. [vail'd upon me. Madge. Ay, or he never should have preRos. Well, now you see the ill consequence trusting to such promises: when once a - an hath cheated a woman of her virtue, she 18 no longer hold of him; he despises her r wanting that which he hath robb'd her of; d, like a lawless conqueror, triumphs in the in he hath occasioned.

Madge. Nan!

Ros. However, I hope the experience you ve got, though somewhat dearly purchased,

In love should there meet a fond pair,
Untutor'd by fashion or art;
Whose wishes are warm and sincere,
Whose words are th' excess of the heart:
If ought of substantial delight,

On this side the stars can be found,
'Tis sure when that couple unite,
And Cupid by Hymen is crown'd,

Enter HAWTHORN.

Haw. Lucy, where are you?
Luc. Your pleasure, sir.

Ros. Mr. Hawthorn, your servant. Haw. What my little water-wagtail!—The ill be of use to you for the future; and, as very couple I wish'd to meet: come hither any designs I have upon the heart of your both of you. ver, you may make yourself easy,

for I as

Ros. Now, sir, what would you say to both

re you I shall be no dangerous rival; so go of us? our ways and be a good girl.

[Exit. Haw. Why, let me look at you a littleMadge. Yes-I don't very well understand have you got on your best gowns, and your r talk, but I suppose that's as much as to best faces? If not, go and trick yourselves out y she'll keep him all to herself; well, let her, directly, for I'll tell you a secret-there will ho cares? I don't fear getting better nor he be a young bachelor in the house, within these any day of the year, for the matter of that: three hours, that may fall to the share of one id I have a thought come into my head, that, of you, if you look sharp-but whether miay be, will be more to my advantage.

A 1R.

Since Hodge proves ungrateful, no further

Tll seek;

Haw. Follow me, follow me; I warrant you. matters stood, I was quite astonished, as a Luc. I can assure you, Mr. Hawthorn, I am body may say; and could not believe it partly very difficult to please.

Ros. And so am I, sir.
Haw. Indeed!

TRIO.

Well come, let us hear what the swain must possess,

Who may hope at your feet to implore with

success?

Ros. He must be first of all

Straight, comely, and tall:

Luc. Neither awkward,
Ros. Nor foolish,

Luc. Nor apish,

Ros. Nor mulish;

Luc.

Ros.

till her young friend that she is with here assured me of the truth on't:-Indeed, at last I began to recollect her face, though I ha not set eyes on her before, since she was the height of a full grown greyhound.

Haw. Well, sir William, your son as y knows nothing of what has happened, nors your being come hither; and, if you'll folos my counsel, we'll have some sport with he

He and his mistress were to meet in a garden this evening by appointment, she's gr to dress herself in all her airs; will you: me direct your proceedings in this affair? Sir W. With all my heart, master H thorn, with all my heart; do what you

Nor yet should his fortune be small. with me, say what you please for me; I =

Haw. What think'st of a captain?
Luc. All bluster and wounds!
Haw. What think'st of a squire?
Ros. To be left for his hounds.

Luc.

Ros. Haw. Ros. Luc.

so overjoyed, and so happy-And may Ine
do an ill turn) but I am very glad to
you too; ay, and partly as much pleased
that as any thing else, for we have been mer
together before now, when we were s
years younger: well, and how has the wr
gone with you, master Hawthorn, since v
saw one another last?

The youth that is form'd to my mind,
Must be gentle, obliging, and kind;
Of all things in nature love me;
Have sense both to speak and to see- Haw. Why, pretty well, sir William,
Yet sometimes be silent and blind. have no reason to complain; every one ha
'Fore George, a most rare matri-mixture of sour with his sweets: but, in=
main, I believe, I have done in a degree
tolerably as my neighbours.

monial receipt;

Observe it, ye fair, in the choice

of a mate;
Remember 'tis wedlock determines
your fate.

ACT III.

AIR.

The world is a well-furnish'd table,
Where guests are promisc'ously set;
We all fare as well as we are able,
And scramble for what we can get.

SCENE I.-A Parlour in JUSTICE WOOD- My simile holds to a tittle,

COCK's House.

Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, followed by

HAWTHORN.

Some gorge, while some scarce have

taste;

But if I'm content with a little,
Enough is as good as a feast.

Enter ROSETTA.

Sir W. Well, this is excellent, this is mighty good, this is mighty merry, faith; ha! ha! ha! was ever the like heard of? that my boy, Tom, Ros. Sir William, I beg pardon for dear should run away from me, for fear of being ing you, but I have had so much difficulty forced to marry a girl he never saw; that she adjusting my borrowed plumes.— should scamper from her father, for fear of Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, being forced to marry him; and that they they fit you to a T, and you look very should run into one another's arms this way so you do: Cocksbones, how your father in disguise, by mere accident; against their chuckle when he comes to hear this!-Her consents, and without knowing it, as a body ther, master Hawthorn, is as worthy a may say? May I never do an ill turn, master as lives by bread, and has been almost o Hawthorn, if it is not one of the oddest ad- his senses for the loss of her- But tel ventures partlyhussy, has not this been all a scheme, a p How. Why, sir William, it is a romance, of conjuration between you and my son? F a novel, a pleasanter history by half than the I am half persuaded it has, it looks se loves of Dorastus and Faunia: we shall have hocus-pocus, as a body may say. ballads made of it within these two months, Ros. Upon my honour, sir William, setting forth how a young squire became a has happened has been the mere effect serving-man of low degree; and it will be chance; I came hither unknown to your s stuck up with Margaret's Ghost, and the Spa- and he unknown to me: I never in the nish Lady, against the walls of every cottage suspected that Thomas the gardener was in the country. than his appearance spoke him; and least e Sir W. But what pleases me best of all, all, that he was a person with whom a master Hawthorn, is the ingenuity of the girl. so close a connexion. Mr. Hawthorn can test May I never do an ill turn, when I was called the astonishment I was in when he first out of the room, and the servant said she formed me of it; but I thought it was wanted to speak to me, if I knew what to duty to come to an immediate explanat make on't but when the little gipsy ') took with you.

me aside, and told me her name, and how Sir W. Is not she a neat wench, 1) Little gipsy. little rogue, little baggage, and a thou-Hawthorn? May I never do an ill tura, 1) Sir William means, may I never do a good tur

sand other littles, are merely terms of endearment.

maste

she is-But you little, plaguy devil, how came become of Lucinda? Sir William waits for this love affair between you? me, I must be gone. Friendship, a moment Ros. I have told you the whole truth very by your leave; yet as our sufferings have ingenuously, sir: since your son and I have been mutual, so shall our joys; I already lose been fellow servants, as I may call it, in this the remembrance of all former pains and anhouse, I have had more than reason to suspect xieties.

se has taken a liking to me; and I will own, with equal frankness, had I not looked upon im as a person so much below me, I should have had no objection to receive his courtship. Haw. Well said, by the lord Harry, all bove board, fair and open.

Ros. Perhaps I may be censured by some or this candid declaration; but I love to speak y sentiments; and I assure you, sir Wilam, in my opinion, I should prefer a garener with your son's good qualities, to night of the shire without them.

a

Haw. Well but, sir, we lose time-is not is about the hour appointed to meet in the arden?

Ros. Pretty near it.

AIR.

The traveller benighted,

And led through weary ways,
The lamp of day new lighted,
With joy the dawn surveys.
The rising prospects viewing,
Each look is forward cast;
He smiles, his course pursuing,
Nor thinks of what is past.

[Exit. Hodge. Hist, stay! don't I hear a noise? Luc. Without] Well, but dear, dear auntMrs.D. [Without] You need not speak to me, for it does not signify.

Hodge. Adwawns, they are coming here! Haw. Oons then, what do we stay for? ecod, I'll get out of the way-Murrain take it, ome, my old friend, come along; and by the this door is bolted now-So, so.

ay we will consult how to manage your

terview.

Sir W. Ay, but I must speak a word or
70 to my man about the horses first.
[Exeunt Sir W. and Haw,
Enter HODge.

Ros. Well-What's the business?
Hodge. Madam-Mercy on us,
rdon!

I crave

Enter MRS. DEBORAH WOODCOCK, driving

in LUCINDA before her.

Mrs. D. Get along, get along: you are a scandal to the name of Woodcock: but I was resolved to find you out; for I have suspected you a great while, though your father, silly man, will have you such a poor innocent. Luc. What shall I do?

Mrs. D. I was determined to discover what Ros. Why, Hodge, don't you know me? you and your pretended music-master were about, and lay in wait on purpose; I believe Hodge. Mrs. Rosetta! Ros. Ay. he thought to escape me, by slipping into the Hodge. Know you! ecod, I don't know closet when I knocked at the door; but I was hether I do or not: never stir, if I did not even with him; for now I have him under nk it was some lady belonging to the strange lock and key; and please the fates, there he ntlefolks: why, you ben't dizen'd this way shall remain till your father comes in: I will go to the statute dance presently, be you? convince him of his error, whether he will or Ros. Have patience and you'll see:- but is not. re any thing amiss that you came in so ruptly?

Hodge, Amiss! why there's ruination.
Ros. How?-where?

Hodge, Why, with miss Lucinda: her aunt
s catch'd she and the gentleman above stairs,
d overheard all their love discourse.
Ros. You don't say so!

Hodge. Ecod, I had like to have pop'd in
ong them this instant; but, by good luck,
heard Mrs. Deborah's voice, and run down
in as fast as ever my legs could carry me.
Ros. Is your master in the house?
Hodge. What, his worship! no no, he is
ne into the fields to talk with the reapers
d people.

Ros. Poor Lucinda! I wish I could go up to
but I am so engaged with my own af-

r;

rs

Hodge. Mistress Rosetta!'
Ros. Well.

Hodge. Odds bobs, I must have one smack
your sweet lips.

Luc. You won't be so cruel, I am sure you won't: I thought I had made you my friend by telling you the truth.

Mrs. D. Telling me the truth, quotha! did I not overhear your scheme of running away to-night, through the partition? did I not find the very bundles pack'd up in the room with you, ready for going off? No, brazenface, I found out the truth by my own sagacity, though your father says I am a fool, but now we'll be judged who is the greatest-And you, Mr. Rascal, my brother shall know what an honest servant he has got.

Hodge. Madam!

Mrs. D. You were to have been aiding and assisting them in their escape, and have been the go-between, it seems, the letter-carrier! Hodge. Who, me, madam! Mrs. D. Yes, you, sirrah.

Hodge. Miss Lucinda, did I ever carry a letter for you? I'll make my affidavy 1) before his worship

Mrs. D. Go, go, you are a villain, hold your

Ros. Oh, stand off; you know I never al-tongue. ~ liberties.

Luc. I own, aunt, I have been very faulty Hodge. Nay, but why so coy? there's rea- in this affair; I don't pretend to excuse my1 in roasting of eggs; I would not deny self; but we are all subject to frailties; conu such a thing.

Ros. That's kind: ha, ha, ha-But what will 1) Affidavit.

And all their discourse is of marriage.

SCENE II-A Greenhouse.

Enter Young MEADOWS.

sider that, and judge of me by yourself; you were once young and inexperienced as I am. Mrs. D. This is mighty pretty, romantic stuff! but you learn it out of your play-books and novels. Girls in my time had other employments, we worked at our needles, and Young M. I am glad I had the precauti kept ourselves from idle thoughts: before I was to bring this suit of clothes in my bun "your age, I had finished with my own fingers though I hardly know myself in them ag a complete set of chairs and a firescreen in they appear so strange, and feel so unweld tent-stitch; four counterpanes in Marseilles However, my gardener's jacket goes on quilting; and the creed and the ten command-more. I wonder this girl does not com ments in the hair of our family: it was fram'd [Looking at his Watch] perhaps she wa and glaz'd, and hung over the parlour chim-come.-Why, then I'll go into the villag ney-piece, and your poor, dear grandfather take a post-chaise, and depart without 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 receipt-book: whereas you are always at your studies! Ah, I never knew a woman come to good, that was fond of reading.

Luc. Well pray, madam, let me prevail on you to give me the key to let Mr. Eustace out, and I promise I never will proceed a step further in this business without your advice and approbation.

AIR.

How much superior beauty awes,
The coldest bosoms find;
But with resistless force it draws,

To sense and sweetness join'd.
The casket, where, to outward show,
The workman's art is seen,
Is doubly valu'd, when we know
It holds a gem within.
Hark! she comes.

THORN.

Mrs. D. Have I not told you already my Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS and th resolution? Where are my clogs and my bonnet? I'll go out to my brother in the fields; I'm a fool, you know, child; now let's see what the wits will think of themselves-Don't this mean? hold me

Young M. Confusion! my father! What

[Exit. Sir W. Tom, are not you a sad boy, T Luc. I'm not going; I have thought of a to bring me a hundred and forty miles way to be even with you, so you may do as-May I never do an ill turn, but you deser! you please. [Exit. to have your head broke; and I have a g Hodge. Well, I thought it would come to mind, partly-What, sirrab, don't you this, I'll be shot if I didn't-So here's a fine it worth your while to speak to me? job-But what can they do to me?-They Young M. Forgive me, sir; I own I b can't send me to gaol for carrying a letter, been in a fault.

seeing there was no treason in it; and how Sir W. In a fault! to run away from was I obligated to know my master did not because I was going to do you good-Ma allow of their meetings:-The worst they can never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if ! do is to turn me off, and I am sure the place not pick out as fine a girl for him, partiv, is no such great purchase-indeed, I should any in England!, and the rascal run a be sorry to leave Mrs. Rosetta, seeing as how from me, and came here and turn'd gard matters are so near being brought to an end And pray what did you propose to your betwixt us; but she and I may keep company Tom? I know you were always fond of all as one; and I find Madge has been speaking tany, as they call it; did you intend to with Gaffer Broadwheels, the waggoner, about the trade going, and advertise fruit-trees » her carriage up to London: so that I have got flowering-shrubs, to be had at Mead rid of she, and I am sure I have reason to be nursery? main glad of it, for she led me a wearisome life-But that's the way of them all.

AIR.

A plague o'these wenches, they make such a pother,

When once they have let'n a man have his will;

They're always a whining for something or other,

And cry he's unkind in his carriage.
What tho'f he speaks them ne'er so fairly,
Still they keep teazing, teazing on:

You cannot persuade 'em
Till promise you've made 'em;
And after they've got it,
They tell you-add rot it,

Their character's blasted, they're ruin'd,

done:

Haw. No, sir William, I apprehend young gentleman designed to lay by the fession; for he has quitted the habit alre

Young M. I am so astonished to see here, sir, that I don't know what to say I assure you, if you had not come, I s. have returned home to you directly, P sir, how did you find me out?

Sir W. No matter, Tom, no matter: it partly by accident, as a body may say what does that signify?-tell me, boy, stands your stomach towards matrimony you think you could digest a wife now?

Young M. Pray, sir, don't mention it: Is always behave myself as a dutiful son ou I will never marry without your consent, I hope you won't force me to do it aga un-my own.

Sir V. Is not this mighty provoking, Hawthorn? Why, sirrah, did you ever see t lady I designed for you?