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Poung M. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's me-, kind of embarrassment, and I don't wonder

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, ly; you should pay some respect to your will, I apprehend, expound the riddle. He ier in this matter.

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

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

Young M. Sir! ir W. Why sorry? What, then, you won't Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In rry her? We'll see that! Pray, master Haw-short, you have not been a more wbimsical rn, conduct the fair one in. Ay, sir, you gentleman, than I have a gentlewoman; but y fret and dance about, trot at the rate of you see we are designed for one another, en miles an hour, if you please; but, marry 'tis plain. ip 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 law. 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.

from him he would not marry you be- Sir W. Well then, Tom, come into the se he had not seen you: but I'll let him air a bit, and recover yourself. w my choice shall be bis, and he shall Young M. Nay, dear sir, have a little pasent to marry you before he sees you, or tience; do you give her to me? ar acre of estate – Pray, sir, walk this Sir W. Give her to you! ay, that I do,

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

Sir W. Jow, Tom, how?
Poung M. I was determined, sir, to have Young M. All I wish in her obtaining,
the better of my inclination, and never

Fortune can no more impart: e done a thing which I knew would be

Ros. Let my eyes, my thoughts explaining, greeable to you.

Speak the feelings of my heart

. sir W. And pray, sir, who are your affec- Young M. Joy and pleasure never ceasing, is engaged to? Let me know that.

Ros. Love with length of years increasing, Coung Ň. To a person, sir, whose rank Together. Thus my heart and band surrender, I fortune may be no recommendation to

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

Constant still, and kind and iender, itle her to a monarch. I am sorry, sir,

May our flames burn ever bright! impossible for me to comply with your Haw. Give you joy, sir; and you, fair lady nmands, and I hope you will not be of- ---And, under favour, l'll salute you too, if ded 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 ir business.

tell me, dear Rosella! Coung M. Sir, I obey.

Ros. Slep into the house, and I'll tell you Faw. Now, madam; is the time.

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

tely; for I am in the utmost uneasiness about AIR.- ROSETTA.

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

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

Ros. I don't know; but I have reason to Ab! how sweet to heal bis anguish, fear I left her just now in very disagreeable And repay him 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 now?

her loverTaw. Perhaps, sir William, your son does Haw. The music-master! I thought so.

like the lady; and, if so, pray don't put Sir W. What, is there a lover in the case ? orce upon bís inclination.

May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, Poung M. You need not bave taken this so I am! for we'll make a double wedding; thod, sir, to let me see you are acquainted and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to h my folly, whalever my inclinations are. London, to show the brides some of the pleaSir W. Well but, Tom, suppose I give my sures of the town. And, master Hawthorn, isent to your marrying this young woman? you shall be of the party-Cone, children, gó Young M. Your consent, sir?

before us. Ros. Come, sir William, we have carried Haw. Thank you, sir William ; I'll go injest far enough: I see your son is in alto the house with you, and to church in see


bussy, will

the young

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

turn, but I am glad to meet you.

Jus. IV. Pray, sir William, are you ao If 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? wb May I ne'er know the sweets of a slumber he's my kinsman: his mother and I were cou unbroke,

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

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

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

[Exeunt. ter to sing

Sir W. What, Jack Eustace a music-maste SCENE III.-JUSTICE Woodcock's Hall.

no, no; I know him belter. Enter Justice Woodcock, MRS. DEBORAH

Eusto 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to a Woodcock, LUCINDA, Eustace, and Hodge. ry on this absurd farce any longer;-W1

Mrs D. Why, brother, do you think that gentleman tells you is very true, sir; 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 tbis lady have broke open the door, and got him out represented me, [Pointing to Mrs. Debora again.

your daughter's lover: whom, with ber og Jus. W. Well, you hear what they say. consent, I did intend to have carried of d

Mrs. D. I care not what they say; it's you night; but now that sir William Meade encourage them in their impudence-Harkye, is bere, to tell you who and what I am


face me down that I did not throw myself upon your generosity; tre lock the fellow up?

which I expect greater advantages than I can Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you reap from any imposition on your unsun mean;


you talk intelligibly, I'll answer cious nature. you.

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

cious day's work of it! flad my advice be Mrs. D. What, then, I did not catch you taken! Oh, I am ashamed of you; but g together in her chamber, nor overhear your are a weak man, and it can't be help'd; design of going off to-night, nor find the ever, you should let wiser heads direct rul bundles packed up

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

Sir W. Ay, do, sir, forgive her; my a Luc Why, aunt, you rave.

sin Jack will make her a good husband, 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 from first to last; and in this very place was speak two or three words to his worship down upon

ber marrow-bones for half an Come, my dear sir, though you refuse all hour together, to beg I would concealit from you. world, I am sure you can deny me bolli Hodge. Oh Lord! Oh Lord !

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

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

me, because


bave been telling his worship stories.

Go, naughly man, I can't abide you: Jus. W.'Why, sister, you are tipsy!

Are then our vows so soon forgot? Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother! - -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 hopeful bot. end to year's end; but now and then aliule

But here I charge you-Make them kapi anniseed water, when I bave got the colic. Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complain- Come, be a dear, good natur'd papps,

Bless the fond pair, and crown their ing of the stomach-ach all day; and may have

And I'll reward you with a kiss. taken too powerful a dose of cordial.

your Jus. W. Come, come, I see well enough Mrs. D. Come, turn out of the house, how it is; this is a lie of her own invention, be thankful that my brother does not ty make herself appear wise: but, you simple-you, for he could do it; he's a justice 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 Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, him out of ihe bouse?-be shall stay

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 be! but I'll show you

difference now; I say be shall marry 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 nim your Sír W. Your servant, again; and again, too, will you?


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's music too, I see; sball 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 band, and we hought 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 sayay so too.

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

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

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



Com. Opera, by Isaac Bickerstaffe. Acted at Covent Garden 1765. This is taken from Richardson's novel of imela, and ran thirty-five nights. In the year 1788, Mr. O'Keeffe added several airs to it, with which it was revived th applause. It has since been reduced to an asterpiece, and performed in that stale at Covent Garden. has been served, that, "like Pamela, this is one of those delusions which frequently destroy the proper subordination of society. le village beauty, whose simplicity and innocence are her native charms, smilten with the reveries of rank and splenur, becomes affected and retired, disdaining her situation and every one about her."-We do not believe, however, 14 many instances of this could be adduced.

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no doubt but you'll find enow for a body to do. ENE I. - A 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 Net; Giles set a hand to what I have desired thee? appears at a distance in the Mill; FAIR- Pat do do some thing then? I thought when

Ralph. Why don't you speak to suster FIELD and Ralph taking Sacks from a Cart.

she came home to us, after my old lady's

death, she was to have been of some use in CHORUS. Free from sorrow, free from strife,

the house; but instead of that, she sits there O how blest the miller's life!

all day, reading outlandish books, dressed like Cheerful working through the day,

a fine madumasel; and the never a word you Still he laughs and sings away.

says to sbe.

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

of thy sister; thou wilt' never have the tithe

of her deserts. While there's grist to make him gay. Ralph. Why, I'll read and write with ber DUETT.

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; 'tis a sure Fair. That's none of thy business, sirrah.

work goes on merrily when folks singl Ralph. A farmer's wife painting pictures, it. Stop the mill there; and dost hear, and playing on the hapsicols; why I'll be 1 Ralph, hoist yon sacks of flour upon this bang'd now, for all as old as she is, if sbe t, lad, and drive it up to lord Aimwortb's: knows any more about milking a cow, than ning from London last night with strange I do of sewing a pellicoat. npany, no doubt there are calls enough for Fair. Ralph, thou hast been drinking this y this time.

morning. {olph. Ay, feyther, whether or not, there's ») Harpsichord.

guve me.

Ralph. Well, if so be as I have, it's no-1. 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 S Ralph. Why it was wind 1) a gentleman camore and his family, and tbere is more

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

Pal. Í know sir Harry very well; he is by Ralph. Yes, a gentleman that's come piping marriage a distant relation of my lord's, 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 forly 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 what 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

about my lord's going to be married. By Ralph. Wby no I wont; so what argufies what I can learn she is; and there is likely your piitting, yourself in a passion, feyther? to be a nearer relationship between the fa I've promised to go back to the gentleman; milies, ere long. It seems his lordship. wa and I don't know but what he's å lord too; not over willing for the match, but the friend and maybap he 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 Good Fair. Well

, son Ralph, run thy gait; but man tells me, a matter of twenty or thirty remember I tell thee, ihou wilt repent this thousand pounds. untowardness.

Pat. If it was a million, falber, it woul Ralph. Wby, how shall I repent it? May- not be more than my lord Aimworth deser hap you'll turn me out of your service; a ves; I suppose the wedding will be celebrate match; with all bearts-Icod I don't care ibree here at the mansion-house. brass pins

Fair. So it is thought, as soon as thing AIR.

can be properly prepared-And now, Patty If that's all you want, who the plague will if I could but see thee a little merry-Com be sorry?

bless thee, pluck up thy spirits– To be sure 'Twere better by half to dig stones in a quarry; thou hast sustained, in ihe death of thy la For my, share, l'm weary of what is got by: a beavy loss; she was a parent to thee; na S'flesh here's such a racket, such scolding and better, inasmuch as 'she took thee whe and coiling,

thou wert but a babe, and gave thee an ed You're never content, but when folks are a toiling, cation which thy natural parents could a And drudging like horses from morning till afford to do. night.

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

perhaps has been my greatest misfortune.

Fair. Nay then, Patly, what's become First yonder's your shovel; your sacks too 1-Bui I have something to say to thee whil

all thy sense that people talk so much aboal Henceforward take care of your matters who I need not tell thee, my child, that a you

I would bave thee consider seriously, I belie They're welcome to slave for your wages she has any thing about ber to draw people

maiden, after she is marriageable, especialis wbo need'em; Tol lol de rol lol, I have purchasd my freedom,cross 'accidents; so that the sooner she's out

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

[Exit. woman's best safeguard is a good hushan Fair. Dear beart, dear heart! I protest this Now there is our neighbour, "farmer Gile ungracious boy puts me quite beside myself. he is a sober, honest, indust: ious, young Palty, my dear, come down into the yard a low, an done of the wealthiest in these parti little, and keep me company-and you, thieves, he is greatly taken with thee; and it is vagabonds, gipsies, out here! 'tis you de- the first time I have told thee I should if baucb my son. [Drives off Gipsies. glad to have him for a son-in-law.

Pat. And I have told you as often, fatbe Enter Party from the House, I would submit myself entirely to your dice AIR. - PATTY.

tion; whatever you think proper for me iss In love to pine and languish,

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

sensible girl; get thee in, then, and learen To harbour heart-felt anguish,

!o manage it-Perhaps our neighbour Gill Yet fear to tell your pain:

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

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

Pat. Very true, father. (Exit into the Cottag Can sharpen pangs like these;

Enter GILES.
Where days and nights tormenting,
Yield not a moments casc ?

Giles. Well, masler Fairfield, you 38

miss Pat have had a long discourse together 1) The country way of pronouncing wine,

did you tell her that I was come down?

show you,

throw you;



Fair. No, in truth, friend Giles; but I men- Ah, you little cunning vixen ! tioned our affair at a distance; and I think I can see your roguish smiles. there is no fear.

Addslids! my mind is so possest, Giles. That's right--and when shall us-- Till we're sped, I shan't have rest, You do know I have told you my mind osten Only say the thing's a bargain, ind often.

Here an you like it, Fair. Farmer, give us thy hand; nobody Ready to strike it, loubts thy good will to me and my girl; and There's at once an end of arguing: ou may take my word, I would rather give I'm her's, she's mine; er to thee than another; for I am main cer- Thus we scal, and thus we sign. [E.cit. ain thou wilt make her a good husband, Giles. Thanks to your kind opinion, mas

Re-enter Party from the Cottage. r Fairfield ; if such be my hap, I hope there Fair. Patty, child, why wouldst not thou rill be no cause of complaint.

open the door for our neighbour Giles? Fair. And I promise thee my daughter will Pat. Really, father, I did not know what take thee a choice wife. But thou know'st, was the matter. iend Giles, that I, and all belongs to me, Fair. Well, our neighbour Giles will be we great obligations to lord Aimworth’s fa-here another time; he'll be here again preily; Pally, in particular, would be one of sently; He's gone up to the castle, Pally: e most ungrateful wretches this day breath-thou know'st it would not be right for us to 8, if she was to do the smallest thing do any thing without gis his lordship inintrary to their consent and approbation. telligence, so I have sent the farmer to let Giles. Nay, nay, 'tis well enough known to him know that he is willing, and we the country she was the old lady's darling. willing, and, with his lordship's approbationFair. Well, master Giles, I'll assure thee Pai. Oh, dear father-whai are you going e is not one wbit less obliged to my lord to say? mself. When his mother was taken off so Fair. Nay, child, I would not bave stirr'd ddenly, and his affairs called him up to a step for lifty pounds, without advertising ndon, if Pally would have remained at the bis lordship beforeband. ille, she might have had the command of Pat. But surely, surely, you have not done ; or if she would have gone any where this rash, this precipitate thing? e, he would have paid for her fixing, let Fair. How rash,' how is it rash, Patly? I cost be what it would.

don't understand thee. Giles. Why, for that matter, folks did not Pat Oh, you have distress'd me beyond re to say, that my lord had a sort of a imagination — but why would you not give aking kindness for her himself: and I re-me notice, speak to me first? mber, at one time, it was rise all about : Fair. Why han't I spoken to thee an hunneighbourhood, that she was actually to dred times? "No, Patty, tis thou that wouldst our lady,

distress me, and thou'lt break my heart. Fair. Pho, pho! a pack of woman's tales. Pat. Dear father! Tiles. Nay, to be sure they'll say any thing: Fair. All I desire is to see thee well selair. My lord's a man of a better way of tled; and now that I am likely to do so, thou king, friend Gites--but this is neither here art not contented. I am sure the farmer is there to our business-Have you been al as sightly a clever lad as any in the country; castle yet?

and is be not as good as we? files. Who, I! bless your heart I did not Pal. 'Tis very true, father, I am to blame; : a syllable of his lordship's being come pray forgive me. your lad told me.

Fair. Forgive thee! Lord help thee, my 'air. Nó! why then go up to my lord, let child, I am not angry, with thee; but quiet know you have a mind to make a match thyself, Pally, and thou'll see all this will I my daughter, hear what he has to say turn out for the best.

[E.cit. 1, and afterwards we will try if we can't Pat. What will become of me?--My lord e mallers.

will certainly imagine this is done with my iles. Go up to my lord? Icod, if that be consent-Well, is he not himself going to be I'll do it with the biggest pleasure in lisc. married to a lady, suitable to him in rank, ut where's miss Pat? Might not one ax suitable to him in fortune, as this farmer is how she do?

lo me; and under what pretence can I reair. Never spare it; she's within there. fuse the husband my father has found for me? iles. I sees ber-old rabbit it, this hatch Shall I say that I have dared to raise my in, ocked now-miss Pat — miss Pally.--she clinations above my condition, and presumed es believe not to bear me,

lo love where my duty taught me only. graair. Well, well, never mind, thou'lt come titude and respect? Alas! who could live in eat a morsel of dinner with us.

the house with lord Aimworth, see him,.coniles. Nay, but just to bare a bit of a joke verse with bim, and not love' bim! I have

her at present-miss Pat, I say-won't this consolation, however, my folly is yet unopen the door?

discover'd to any; else, how should I be riA I R.

diculed and despised!' nay, would not my ark! 'tis I, your own true lover; lord himself despise me, especially if he knew After walking three long miles,

that I bave more than once construed his naDe kind look at least discover,

tural affability and politeness into sentiments ome and speak a word to Giles. as unworthy of him, as mine are bold and You alone my heart I fis on:

extravagant. Unexampled vanity.

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