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L. Aim. The farmer then refuses to marry Patty, notwithstanding their late reconciliation.

Fai. Yes, my lord, he does indeed; and has made wicked noise, and used us in a very base manner :

did not think farmer Giles would have been so ready to believe such a thing of us.

129 L. Aim. Well, Master Fairfield, I will not press on you a donation, the rejection of which does you so much credit; you may take my word, however, that your fears upon this occasion are entirely groundless : but this is not enough, as I have been the means of losing your daughter one husband, it is but just I should get her another; and, since the farmer is so scrupulous, there is a young man in the house here, whom I have some influence over, and I dare say he will be less squeamish.

139 Fai. To be sure, my lord, you have, in all honest ways, a right to dispose of me and mine, as you think proper.

L. Aim. Go then immediately, and bring Patty hither; I shall not be easy till I have given you entire satisfaction. But, stay and take a letter, which I am stepping into my study to write: I'll order à chaise to be got ready, that you may go back and forward with greater expedition.

Let me fly-hence tyrant fashion,

Teach to servile minds your law;
Curb in them each gen'rous passion,

Ev'ry motion keep in awe.


Shall I, in thy trammels going,

Quit the idol of my heart?
While it beats, all fervent, glowing !

With my life I'll sooner part.


but you

FANNY following RALPH.
Fan. Ralph, Ralph!
Ral. What do you want with me, eh?

Fan. Lord, I never knowed such a man as you are, since I com'd into the world ; a body can't speak to you,

falls strait ways into a passion : I followed you up from the house, only you run so, there was no such a thing as overtaking you, and I have been waiting there at the back door ever so long.

165 Ral. Well, and now you may go and wait at the fore door, if you like it : but I forewarn you and your gang not to keep lurking about our mill any longer;

for if you do, I'll send the constable after you, and have you, every mother's skin, clapt into the county gaol, you are such a pack of thieves, one can't hang so much as a rag to dry for you : it was but the other day that a couple of them came into our kitchen to beg a handful of dirty flour to make them cakes, and before the wench could turn about, they had whipped off three brass candlesticks, and a pot-lid.

Fan. Well, sure it was not I.

Ral. Then you know that old rascal, that you call father; the last time I catch'd him laying snares for the hares, I told him I'd inform the game-keeper, and I'll expose all

181 Fan. Ah, dear Ralph, don't be angry with me.

Ral. Yes I will be angry with you—what do you come nigh me for? You shan't touch me-There's the skirt of my coat, and if you do but lay a finger on it, my lord's bailiff is here in the court, and I'll call him and give you to him.

Fan. If you'll forgive me, I'll go down on my knees.

189 Ral. I tell you I won't.-No, no, follow your gentleman; or go live upon your old fare, crows and polecats, and sheep that die of the rot; pick the dead fowl off the dung-hills, and squench your thirst at the next ditch, 'tis the fittest liquor to wash down such daintięsskulking about from barn to barn, and lying upon wet straw, on commons, and in green lanes--go and be whipt from parish to parish, as you used to be.

Fan. How can you talk so unkind ?

199 Ral. And see whether you will get what will keep you as I did, by telling of fortunes, and coming with pillows under your apron, among

the young

farmers wives, to make believe you are a breeding, with “the Lord Almighty bless you, sweet mistress, you cannot tell how soon it may be your own case.” You know I am acquainted with all your tricks—and how you turn up the whites of your eyes, pretending you were struck blind by thunder and lightning.

Fan. Pray don't be angry, Ralph. Ral. Yes but I will tho’; spread your cobwebs to catch flies, I am an old wasp, and don't value them a button,



When you meet a tender creature,
Neat in limb, and fair in feature.
Full of kindness and good nature,

Prove as kind again to she;
Happy mortal! to possess her,

your bosom, warm, and press her,
Morning, noon, and night, caress her,

And be fond, as fond can be.


But if one you meet that's froward,
Saucy, jilting, and untoward,
Should you aĉt the whining coward,

'Tis to mend her ne'er the whit:

Nothing's tough enough to bind her ;
Then agog, when once you find her,
Let her go, and never mind her;

Heart alive, you're fairly quit.




“ I wish I had a draught of water. I don't know “ what's come over me; I have no more strength “ than a babe ; a straw would fling me down." He has a heart as hard as any parish-officer ; I don't doubt now but he would stand by and see me himself; and we shall all be whipt, and allthrough my means.—The devil run away with the gentleman, and his twenty guineas too, for leading me astray: if I had known Ralph would have taken it so, I would have hanged myself before I would have said a word-but I thought he had no more gall than a pigeon.


0! what a simpleton was I,

To make my bed at such a rate!
Now lay thee down, vain fool, and cry,

Thy true love seeks another mate.

No tears, alack,
Will call him back,

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