ather in this matter. Young M. Sir, 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 cannot be surprised that I ran away from a Sir W. Respect, master Hawthorn! I tell gentleman who expressed so much dislike to ou he shall marry her, or I'll disinherit him! me; and what has happened, since chance here's once. Look you, Tom, not to make has brought us together in masquerade, there ny more words of the matter, I have brought is no occasion for me to inform him of. he lady here with me, and I'll see you con- Young M. What is all this? Pray don't acted before we part; or you shall delve and make a jest of me! lant cucumbers as long as you live. Young M. Have you brought the lady here, r? I am sorry for it. Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, if it is not truth! this is my friend's daughter. Young M. Sir! Sir W. Why sorry? What, then, you won't Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In arry her? We'll see that! Pray, master Haw- short, you have not been a more whimsical orn, conduct the fair one in. Ay, sir, you gentleman, than I have a gentlewoman; but ay fret and dance about, trot at the rate of you see we are designed for one another, teen miles an hour, if you please; but, marry 'tis plain. hip me, I'm resolved. Enter ROSETTA. Haw. Here is the lady, sir William. Young M. I know not, madam, what I either hear or see; a thousand things are crowding on my imagination; while, like one just awakened from a dream, I doubt which is reality, which delusion. Sir W. Well then, Tom, come into the air a bit, and recover yourself.. Young M. Nay, dear sir, have a little patience; do you give her to me? Sir W. Give her to you! ay, that I do, and my blessing into the bargain. Young M. Sir, I cannot help thinking your Young M. Then, sir, I am the happiest man nduct a little extraordinary; but, since you in the world! I inquire no further; here I fix ge me so closely, I must tell you my af- the utmost limits of my hopes and happiness. tions are engaged. Sir W. How, Tom, how? DUETT. Young M. I was determined, sir, to have Young M. All I wish in her obtaining, the better of my inclination, and never ve done a thing which I knew would be agreeable to you. Ros. Young M. Ros. Fortune can no more impart: Sir W. And pray, sir, who are your affec- ded if I quit your presence. ur business. Young M. Sir, I obey. Haw. Now, madam; is the time. there's no fear of jealousy. Young M. And may I believe this? Pr'ythee tell me, dear Rosetta! Ros. Step into the house, and I'll tell you every thing; I must entreat the good offices Rosetta advances. Young Meadows turns of sir William and Mr. Hawthorn immedia¬ round and sees her. AIR. ROSETTA. When we see a lover languish : now? Haw. Perhaps, sir William, your son does t like the lady; and, if so, pray don't put force upon bis inclination. Young M. You need not have taken this thod, sir, to let me see you are acquainted th my folly, whatever my inclinations are. Sir W. Well but, Tom, suppose I give my nsent to your marrying this young woman? Young M. Your consent, sir? tely; for I am in the utmost uneasiness about my poor friend, Lucinda. Haw. Why, what's the matter? Ros. I don't know; but I have reason to fear I left her just now in very disagreeable circumstances: however I hope if there's any mischief fallen out between her father and her lover Haw. The music-master! I thought so. Sir W. What, is there a lover in the case? May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, so I am! for we'll make a double wedding; and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to London, to show the brides some of the pleasures of the town. And, master Hawthorn, you shall be of the party-Come, children, go before us. Ros. Come, sir William, we have carried Haw. Thank you, sir William; I'll go ine jest far enough: I see your son is in a to the house with you, and to church to see an i the young folks married; but as to London, heartily your servant; may I never do I beg to be excused. turn, but I am glad to meet you. Jus. IV. Pray, sir William, are you ar quainted with this person? AIR. If ever I'm catch'd in those regions of smoke, Nor the pleasure the country enjoys. And show me for twopence a- piece. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-JUSTICE WOODCOCK'S Hall. Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, MRS. DEBORAH WOODCOCK, LUCINDA, EUSTACE, and HODGE. Mrs D. Why, brother, do you think can't hear, or see, or make use of my senses? I tell you, I left that fellow locked up in her closet; and, while I have been with you, they have broke open the door, and got him out again. Sir W. What, with Jack Eustace? why he's my kinsman: his mother and I were co sin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very worthy young fellow; may I never do an turn, if I tell a word of a lie. Jus. W. Well but, sir William, let me you, you know nothing of the matter; 12 man is a music-master; a thrummer of wire, and a scraper of catgut, and teaches my daug ter to sing. Sir W. What, Jack Eustace a music-master no, no; I know him better. Eust 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to c ry on this absurd farce any longer;-Wa that gentleman tells you is very true, sir, am no music-master, indeed. Jus. W. You are not, you own it then Eust. Nay more, sir, I am, as this lady a represented me, [Pointing to Mrs. Debor your daughter's lover: whom, with her o Jus. W. Well, you hear what they say. consent, I did intend to have carried of t Mrs. D. I care not what they say; it's you night; but now that sir William Mead encourage them in their impudence-Harkye, is here, to tell you who and what lan bussy, will you face me down that I did not throw myself upon your generosity; m lock the fellow up? which I expect greater advantages than I co Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you reap from any imposition on your unst mean; when you talk intelligibly, I'll answer cious nature. you. Eust. Seriously, madam, this is carrying say for yourself now? You have made a p the jest a little too far. Mrs. D. What, then, I did not catch you together in her chamber, nor overhear your design of going off to-night, nor find the bundles packed up Eust. Ha, ha, ha. Luc Why, aunt, you rave. Mrs. D. Well, brother, what have you t cious day's work of it! Had my advice le taken! Oh, I am ashamed of you; but are a weak man, and it can't be help'd; b ever, you should let wiser heads direct yo Luc. Dear papa, pardon me. Sir W. Ay, do, sir, forgive her; my sin Jack will make her a good husband, answer for it. Mrs. D. Brother, as I am a Christian woman, 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 worsh down upon her marrow-bones for half an Come, my dear sir, though you refuse a hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you. world, I am sure you can deny me note Hodge. Oh Lord! Oh Lord! love is a venial fault-You know what I m Mrs. D. What, sirrah, would you brazen-Be reconciled to your daughter, & con [Boxes him. you, by the memory of our past affectio Hodge. I wish you would keep your hands What, not a word? to yourself! you strike me, because you have been telling his worship stories. me too! Take that. Jus. W. Why, sister, you are tipsy! Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother!-I-that never touch a drop of any thing strong from year's end to year's end; but now and then a little anniseed water, when I have got the colic. Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complaining of the stomach-ach all day; and may have taken too powerful a dose of cordial. your AIR. Go, naughty man, I can't abide you Are then our vows so soon forgot? Ah! now I see if I had tried you, What would have been my hopeful t But here I charge you-Make them Bless the fond pair, and crown their Come, be a dear, good natur'd pappy, And I'll reward you with a kiss. 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 justic ton, did you not know I must find you out? peace;-turn out of the house, I say:Jus. W. Who gave you authority Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, him out of the house?-be shall stay wh ROSETTA, and young MEADOWS. he is. Young M. Bless me, sir! look who is yonder. Sir W. Cocksbones, Jack, honest Jack, are you there? Eust. Plague on't, this rencounter is unlucky-Sir William, your servant. Sir W. Your servant, again; and again, to t Mrs. D. He shan't marry my niece. Jus. W. Shan't he! but I'll show you** difference now; I say he shall marry and what will you do about it? Mrs. D. And you will give nim your est too, will you? Jus. W. Yes, I will. to make up the company of your statute ball; yonder's music too, I see; shall we enjoy Mrs. D. Why I'm sure he's a vagabond. Jus. W. I like him the better; I would have ourselves? him a vagabond. Mrs. D. Brother, brother! Haw. Come, come, madam, all's very well; and I see my neighbour is what I always thought him, a man of sense and prudence. Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, but I say so too. Enter Villagers, etc. If so, give me your hand. Jus. W. Why here's my hand, and we will enjoy ourselves. Heaven bless you both, children, I say— FINALE. 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: Let's to friendship do our duty, Laugh and sing some good old strain; Drink a health to love and beautyMay they long in triumph reign. Mrs. D. Ah brother, brother, you're a silly old man. Haw. Adds me, sir, here are some of your neighbours come to visit you, and I suppose 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 1784, 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 state at Covent Garden. It has been observed, that, "like Pamela, 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 instances of this could be adduced. ACT I. no doubt but you'll find enow for a body to do. Fair. What dost mutter? Is't not a strange SCENE I. A rural Prospect, with a Mill 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? Ralph. Why don't you speak to suster appears at a distance in the Mill; FAIRFIELD and RALPH taking Sacks from a she came home to us, after my old lady's Pat do do some thing then? I thought when Cart. CHORUS. Free from sorrow, free from strife, DUETT. Let the great enjoy the blessings By indulgent fortune sent: death, she was to have been of some use in the house; but instead of that, she sits there all day, reading outlandish books, dressed like a fine madumasel; and the never a word you says to she. Fair. Sirrah, don't speak so disrespectfully of thy sister; thou wilt never have the tithe of her deserts. Ralph. Why, I'll read and write with her for what she dares; and as for playing on the hapsichols 1), I thinks her rich godmother might have learn'd her something more properer, seeing she did not remember to leave her a legacy at last. Fair. That's none of thy business, sirrah. 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 she 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 petticoat. company, no doubt there are calls enough for it by this time. Ralph. Ay, feyther, whether or not, there's Fair. Ralph, thou hast been drinking this morning. 1) Harpsichord. 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 Sy camore and his family, and there is mo company expected in a few days. Ralph. Why it was wind1)-a gentleman guve me. Fair. A gentleman! Ralph. Yes, a gentleman that's come piping hot from London: he is below at the Cat and Bagpipes; Icod he rides a choice bit of a nag. I dare to say she'd fetch as good as forty pound at ever a fair in all England. Fair. A fig's end for what she'd fetch; mind thy business, or by the lord Harry— Ralph. Why I won't do another hand's turn to-day now, so that's flat. Fair. Thou wilt not Pat. I know sir Harry very well; he is by marriage a distant relation of my lord's, Fair. Pray what sort of a young body is th daughter there? I think she used to be with y at the castle, three or four summers ago, wher my young lord was out upon his travels. Pat. Oh! very often; she was a great f vourite of my lady's: pray, father, is s come down? Fair. Why you know the report last nig about my lord's going to be married. Ralph. Why no I wont; so what argufies what I can learn she is; and there is liker your putting yourself in a passion, feyther? to be a nearer relationship between the I've promised to go back to the gentleman; milies, ere long. It seems his lordship. and I don't know but what he's a lord too; not over willing for the match, but the fries and mayhap he may do more for me than you on both sides in London pressed it so har thinks of. then there's a swinging fortune: master Goo Fair. Well, son Ralph, run thy gait; but man tells me, a matter of twenty or the remember I tell thee, thou wilt repent this thousand pounds. untowardness. Ralph. Why, how shall I repent it? Mayhap you'll turn me out of your service; a match; with all hearts-Icod I don't care three brass pins, AIR. Pat. If it was a million, father, it wo not be more than my lord Aimworth dese ves; I suppose the wedding will be celebra here at the mansion-house. Fair. So it is thought, as soon as this: can be properly prepared-And now, Pa If that's all you want, who the plague will if I could but see thee a little merry-Co be sorry? 'Twere better by half to dig stones in a quarry; You think I'm afraid, but the diffrence to show you, First yonder's your shovel; your sacks too throw you; Henceforward take care of your matters who will: They're welcome to slave for your wages who need'em; bless thee, pluck up thy spirits-To be s thou hast sustained, in the death of thy lx| a beavy loss; she was a parent to thee; and better, inasmuch as she took thee wi thou wert but a babe, and gave thee an cation which thy natural parents could afford to do. Pat. Ah! dear father, don't mention v perhaps has been my greatest misfortune. Fair. Nay then, Patty, what's become all thy sense that people talk so much aber -But I have something to say to thee wh I would have thee consider seriously-I bel I need not tell thee, my child, that a re maiden, after she is marriageable, especia she has any thing about her to draw pe cross accidents; so that the sooner she's o notice, is liable to ill tongues, and a harm's way the better. I say, then, a you [Exit. woman's best safeguard is a good husba Fair. Dear heart, dear heart! I protest this Now there is our neighbour, farmer G ungracious boy puts me quite beside myself. he is a sober, honest, indust:ious, young Patty, my dear, come down into the yard a low, an done of the wealthiest in these pa 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 bauch my son. [Drives off Gipsies. glad to have him for a son-in-law. Tol lol de rol lol, I have purchas'd my freedom, Pat. And I have told you as often, fa I would submit myself entirely to your des tion; whatever you think proper for me Fair. Why that's spoken like a duna sensible girl; get thee in, then, and leave to manage it-Perhaps our neighbour G is not a gentleman; but what are the grea part of our country gentlemen good for? Pat. Very true, father. [Exit into the Cott Enter GILES. Giles. Well, master Fairfield, you miss Pat have had a long discourse togethe did you tell her that I was come down? Fair. No, in truth, friend Giles; but I men-| tioned our affair at a distance; and I think there is no fear. Giles. That's right-and when shall us-You do know I have told you my mind often and often. Fair. Farmer, give us thy hand; nobody doubts thy good will to me and my girl; and you may take my word, I would rather give her to thee than another; for I am main certain thou wilt make her a good husband. Giles. Thanks to your kind opinion, master Fairfield; if such be my hap, I hope there will be no cause of complaint. Re-enter PATTY from the Cottage. Fair. Patty, child, why wouldst not thou open the door for our neighbour Giles? Fair. And I promise thee my daughter will Pat. Really, father, I did not know what make thee a choice wife. But thou know'st, was the matter. friend Giles, that I, and all belongs to me, Fair. Well, our neighbour Giles will be have great obligations to lord Aimworth's fa-here another time; he'll be here again premily; Patty, in particular, would be one of sently. He's gone up to the castle, Patty: the most ungrateful wretches this day breath-thou know'st it would not be right for us to ing, if she was to do the smallest thing do any thing without giving his lordship in contrary 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 are all the country she was the old lady's darling. willing, and, with his lordship's approbationFair. Well, master Giles, I'll assure thee Pat. Oh, dear father-what are you going he is not one whit less obliged to my lord to imself. When his mother was taken off so uddenly, and his affairs called him up to a London, if Patty would have remained at the =astle, she might have had the command of 11; or if she would have gone any where Ise, he would have paid for her fixing, let ae cost be what it would. say? Fair. Nay, child, I would not have stirr'd step for fifty pounds, without advertising his lordship beforehand. Pat. But surely, surely, you have not done this rash, this precipitate thing? Fair. How rash, how is it rash, Patty? I don't understand thee. Giles. Why, for that matter, folks did not Pat. Oh, you have distress'd me beyond pare to say, that my lord had a sort of a imagination-but why would you not give seaking kindness for her himself: and I re-me notice, speak to me first? tember, at one time, it was rife all about e neighbourhood, that she was actually to e our lady. Fair. Pho, pho! a pack of woman's tales. Giles. Nay, to be sure they'll say any thing. Fair. My lord's a man of a better way of inking, friend Giles-but this is neither here or there to our business-Have you been at e castle yet? Giles. Who, I! bless your heart I did not a syllable of his lordship's being come >wn, till your lad told me. ar Fair. Why han't I spoken to thee an hundred times? No, Patty, 'tis thou that wouldst distress me, and thou'ft break my heart. Pat. Dear father! Fair. All I desire is to see thee well settled; and now that I am likely to do so, thou art not contented. I am sure the farmer is as sightly a clever lad as any in the country; and is he not as good as we? Pat. 'Tis very true, father, I am to blame; pray forgive me. Fair. Forgive thee! Lord help thee, my child, I am not angry with thee; but quiet thyself, Patty, and thou'lt see all this will turn out for the best. [Exit. Fair. No! why then go up to my lord, let m know you have a mind to make a match ith my daughter, hear what he has to say it, and afterwards we will try if we can't Pat. What will become of me?-My lord ttle mallers. will certainly imagine this is done with my Giles. Go up to my lord? Icod, if that be consent-Well, is he not himself going to be 1, I'll do it with the biggest pleasure in life. married to a lady, suitable to him in rank, -But where's miss Pat? Might not one ax suitable to him in fortune, as this farmer is er how she do? Fair. Never spare it; she's within there. Giles. I sees her-old rabbit it, this hatch locked now-miss Pat-miss Patty--she akes believe not to hear me. Fair. Well, well, never mind, thou'lt come ad eat a morsel of dinner with us. Giles. Nay, but just to have a bit of a joke ith her at present-miss Pat, I say-won't ou open the door? AIR. Hark! 'tis I, your own true lover; to me; and under what pretence can I refuse the husband my father has found for me? Shall I say that I have dared to raise my inclinations above my condition, and presumed to love where my duty taught me only gratitude and respect? Alas! who could live in the house with lord Aimworth, see him, converse with him, and not love him! I have this consolation, however, my folly is yet undiscover'd to any; else, how should I be ridiculed and despised! nay, would not my lord himself despise me, especially if he knew that I have more than once construed his na tural affability and politeness into sentiments as unworthy of him, as mine are bold and extravagant. Unexampled vanity. |