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I heard him Jament his fate. Rosina's virtues offended almost past forgiveness.. Will be shall not go unrewarded.
offer of my hand repair the injury? Dor. Yes, I know'd it would be so. Hea- Bel. If Rosina accepts it, I am satisfied. ven never forsakes the good man's children. Ros. [To Belville ] Will you, sir, suffer? Bel. I have another question to ask you, This hope is a second insult
. Whoever Dorcas, and answer my sincerely, is her heart offends the object of his love is unwortby oí free?
obtaining her. Dor. To be sure, she never would let any Bel. This noble refusal paints your chart. of our young men come a near her; and yet— ter. I know another, Rosina, who loves rex Bel. Speak: I am on the rack.
with as strong, though purer ardour:-but i Dor. I'm aseard-she mopes and she pines allowed to hope
But your honour would be angry — I'm Ros. Do not, sir, envy me the calm deafeard the captain
light of passing my independent days with Beh Then my foreboding heart was right. Dorcas; in whom I have found a mother's
• Dor. Bless thec, my child; thy kindness Enter Rustic.
mells my heart. Rust. Help, for heaven's sake, sir! Rosi- Bel. Do you refuse me too then, Rosina na's lost-she is carried away
[Rosina raises her Eyes tenderly on B:Bel. Rosina!
oille, lowers them aguin, and leans in
Dor. You, sir? You ?
Bel. Then I am happy! My life! my Rosie Bel. With me, sir-I will not lose sight Phæ. Do you speak to his honour, William of you. Rustic, hasten instantly with our Will. No; do you speak, Phæbe. reapers. Dorcas, you will be our guide. [Exit. Phæ. I am asham'd-William and I, roi
Rust. Don't be frightened, şir; the Irishmen honour-William pray'd me to let him kers have rescued her: she is just here. [Exit. me company
-so he gain'd my good will i
have him; if so be my grandmother conser.se Enter the Two Irishmen.
(Courtesying, and playing with her Aprih 1 Irish. [To Dorcas] Dry your tears, my
honour would be so good i jewel; we have done for them.
speak to Dorcas. Dor. Have you sav'd ber? I owe you more Bel. Dorcas, you must not refuse me za than life.
thing to-day. I'll give William a farm. 1 Irish. Faith, good woman, you owe me Dor Your honour is too kind take her nothing at all. Til tell your honour how it William, and make ber a good husband. was. My comrades and I were crossing the Will. That I will, dame. meadow, going home, when we saw them Wil. Phæ. [To Belville) Thank your bumi first; and hearing a woman cry, I look'd up, nour. and saw them putting her into a skiff againsi Beloille joins their Hands, they box asi her will. Says I, “ Paddy, is not that the courlesey. clever little crater that was glaning in the Will. What must I do with the pursa field with us this morning?"
"Tisso, sure your honour? Dorcas would not take it enough," says he. -"By St. Patrick,” says I, Bel. I believe my brother has the best right “there's enough of us to rescute 1) her.” With Capt. B. 'Tis yours, William; dispose of that we ran for the bare life, waded up to as you please. the knees, laid about us bravely with our Will. Then I'll give it to our honest Irisbe shillelays 2), knock them out of the skiff, men, who fought so bravely for our Rosie and brought her back safe: and here she co- Bel. You have made good use of it, Min mes, my jewel.
liam; nor shall my gratitude stop
here. Re-enter Rustic, leading Rosina,
who throws I am worthy of your esteem, I will return Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother
. Whe herself into Dorcas's Arms.
and demand my rights in your affection Dor. I canno' speak-Art thou safe?
Bel. You must not leave us, brother. ReBel. I dread to find the criminal.
sume the race of honour; be indeed a solo Rust. Your honour need not go far a field, dier, and be more than my brother-be s I believe; it must have been some friend of friend. the captain's, for his Freach valet commanded
FINALE. Capt. B. I confess my crime; my passion for Rosina hurried me out of myself.
To bless, and to be blest, be ours, Bel. You have dishonour'd me, dishonour'd
Whate'er qur rank, wbale'er out
Be. the glorious profession you have embrac'd
powers; But be gone, I renounce you as my brother, Capt. B. On some her gifts kind fortura and renounce my ill-plac'd friendship.
showers, Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have
Who reap, like us, in this rich scene
Capt, B. Yet those who taste ber bounty less 1) Rescue.
The sigh malevolent repress, e) Oak-sticks. - The Irish are famous for the use of the
And loud the feeling bosom bless. stick; it is generally . piece of oak, and the regular size is as big round as their wrist, and the exact length
Which something leaves for Fan
Ros. How blest am I, supremely blest!
The hearts you glad your own display, Since Belville all his soul exprest,
The heav'ns such goodness must repay; And fondly clasp'd me to his breast: Rust. And blest through many a summer's day, I now may reap- hoy chang'd the Dor. Full crops you'll reap in this rich scene; scene!
Will. And O! when summer's joys are o'er,
Phoe. And autumn yields its fruits no more,
New blessings be there yet in store,
For winter's sober hours to glean. Soft pity taught his soul to say, “Unseeling Rustic, let her glean!" Cho. And O! when summer's joys are o'er, etc.
LOVE IN A VILLAGE, Comic Opera, by Isaak Bickerstaff. Acted 1762, at Covent Garden. This performance, though compiled from Charles Johnson's Village Opera, Wyelerley's Gentleman Dancing-Master, Marivaux's Jeu de l'Amour et du Hasard,
and other musical pieces, yet met with so much favour from the town, that it was acted the first season almost as men many times as The Beggar's Operu had formerly been, and nearly with as much success. It certainly has the merit of
being inofensive in its tendency, probable in iis incideuls, spirited in iis action, agreeable for its case and regulari!y, and uatural in the delineation of characler.
For shame, you a lover! SCENE I.-A Garden, with Statues, Foun
More firmness discover; tains, and Flower-pots.
Take courage, nor here longer mope;
Resist and be free,
Run riot, like me,
And, to perfect the picture, elope.
Luc. And is this your advice ?
Ros. Positively. Ros. Hope! thou nurse of young desire, Luc. Here's my hand; positively I'll follow Fairy promiser of joy,
it-I have already sent to my genileman, who Painted vapour, glowworm fire, is now in the country, to let him know he Temp’rale sweet, that ne'er can cloy: may come bither this day; we will make use
of the opportunity to seule all preliminariesLuc. Hope! thou earnest of delight,
And then-But take notice, whenever we de-
camp, you march off along with us.
Ros. Oh! madam, your servant; I have no Surest friend the wretched find:
inclination to be left behind, I assure youBoth. Kind deceiver, flatter still,
But you say you got acquainted with this Deal out pleasures unpossest; spark, while you were with your mother during With thy dreams my fancy fill, her last illness at Bath, so that your father
And in wishes make me blesť. has never seen him. Luc. Heigho!-Rosetta!
Luc. Never in his life, my dear; and, I am Ros. Well, child, what do you say ? confident, he entertains not the least suspicion
Luc. 'Tis á sad thing to live in a village a of my haring any such connexion: my auni, hundred miles from the capital, with a pre-indeed, has her doubts and surmises; but, beposterous gouty father, and a superannuated sides that my father will not allow any one maiden aunt:-I am heartily sick of my situation. to be wiser than himself, it is an established
Ros. And with reason-But 'tis in a great maxim belween these affectionate relations, measure your own fault: here is this Mr. never to agree in any thing. Eustace, a man of character and family; he Ros. Except being absurd; you must allow likes you, you like him: you know one ano- they sympathize perfectly in that - But, now ther's minds, and yet you will not resolve to we are on the subject, I desire to know what make yourself bappy with him.
I am to do with this wicked old justice of
peace, this father of yours? He follows me AIR.
about the house like a tame goat. Whence can you inherit
Luc. Nay, I'll assure you he hath been a So slavish a spirit?
wag in his time - you must have a care of Confind thus, and chain'd to a log! yourself. Now fondled, now chid,
Ros. Wretched me! to fall into such hands, Permitted, forbid:
who have been just forced to run away from 'Tis leading the life of a dog.
my parents to avoid an odious marriage
You smile at that now; and I know you think Ros. Indeed, Lucinda, you are very silly. me whimsical, as you have often told me; but Luc. Indeed, Rosetta, that blush makes
you you must excuse my being a little over-deli- look very bandsome. cate in this particular.
Ros. Blush! I am sure I don't blush.
Ros. Pshaw! Lucinda, bow can you be
Luc. Well, don't be angry, and I have done No mortal » an shall wed with me,
But suppose you did like him, how could you Till first he's made my choice.
help yourself? [Exeunt into an Ar bour. Let parents rule, cry nalure's laws, And children still obey;
Enter young Meadows. And is there then no saving clause,
Young M. Let me see-on the fifteenth Against tyrannic sway?
June, at half an hour past live in the morning Luc. Well, but my dear, mad girl [Taking out a Pockel-book] I left my fathers
Ros. Lucinda, don't talk to me-Was your bouse unknown to any one, having made free father to go to London; meet there by acci- with a coat and jackei of our gardener's iba dent with an old fellow as wrong-headed as filted me, by way of a disguise; so says m bimself; and, in a fit of absurd friendship, pocket-booki and chance directing me lo agree to marry you to that old fellow's son, village, on the twentieth of the same moad whom you had never seen, without consulting ! procured a recommendation to the worst in your inclinations, or allowing you a negative, ful justice Woodcock, to he the superintende: in case he should not prove agreeable - or his pumpkins and cabbages, because I would
Luc. Why I should think it a little hard, let my father see, I chose to run any lengte I confess-yet, when I see you in the charac- rather than submit to wbat his obstinacy ter of a chambermaid
bare forced me, a marriage against my Ros. Is is the only character, my dear, in clination, with a wornan I never saw. (P. which I could hope to lie concealed; and, I up the Book, and takes up a Watering can tell you, I was reduced to the last ex. pot] Here I have been three weeks, and in tremity, when, in consequence of our old that time I am as much altered as if boarding-school friendship, I applied to you to changed my nalure with my habit. -'Sde att receive me in this capacity; for we expected to fail in love with a chambermaid: Andd the parties the very next week.
if I could forgel that I am the son and t» Luc. But had not you a message from your of Sir William Meadows. But that's imposuid's intended
know he was as lillle inclined to such ill-concerted nuptials as
O! bad I been by fate decrecd Ros. More than so; he wrole to advise me, Some humble cottage swain; by all means, to contrive some method of In fair Rosetta's sight to feed breaking them oll; for he had rather return My sheep upon the plain; to his dear studies at Oxford: and, alter that, What bliss bad I been born to taste, what hopes could I have of being happy with Which now I ne'er must know! bim?
Ye envious powers! why hare ye placa Luc. Then you are not at all uneasy at the My fair one's lot so low? strange rout you must have occasioned al lla! who was it I had a glimpse of as I pas? home? I warrant, during this month you have by that arbour? Was it not 'she sat reading been absent
there? the trembling of my heart tells me my Ros. Oh! don't mention it, my dear; I have eyes were not inistaken-Here she comes. had so many admirers, since I commenced
[Retires. Roselta comes uz Abigail ?), that I am quite charmed with my
from the Arbour. situation-But hold, who stalks yonder in the Pos. Lucinda was certainly in the right e yard, that the dogs are so glad to sce? it; and yet I blush to own my weaknessere
Luc. Daddy Hawthorn, as I live! He is to myself -- Marry, bang the fellow for Eu come 10 pay my father a visit; and never being a gentleman. more luckily, for he always forces him abroad. Young M. I am determined I won't speab By the way, what will you do with yourself to her. [ Turning to a llose-tree, and pluckor while I slep into the house to see after my the Flowers). Now or nerer is the time to trusly messenger, Hodge?
conquer myself: besides, I have some reunde Ros. No matter; I'll sit down in that arbour, to believe the girl has no arersion to me: ar and listen to the singing of the birds: you as I wish not io do her an injury, it wod koow I am fond of melancholy amusements. be cruel to fill her head with notions of te
Luc. So it scems, indeed: 'sure, Rosetta, can never happen. [Hums a Tune] Pshas none of your admirers had power to touch rol these roses, how they prick one's finger your heart; you are not in love, I hope? Ros. lle takes no notice of me; but
Ros. In love! that's pleasant: who do you much the beller; I'll be as indifferent as ! suppose I should be in love with, pray? is. I am sure the poor lad likes me; and
Luc. Why, let me see-What do you think I was to give him any encouragement, I sa? of Thomas, our gardener? There he is at the pose the next thing 'be talked of would other end of the walk – He's a pretly young buying a ring, and being asked in churchman, and the servants say, he's always writing Ob, dear pride, I thank you for that thongs verses on you.
Young M. Hah, going without a word? 2) Seryant-maid,
look!- can't bear ibat-Mrs. Rosetta, 1 :
spouse, to let you were?
A I R.
gathering a few roses here, if you please to Haw. Am I here? Yes: and, if
had iake them in with you.
been where I was three hours ago, you would Ros. Thank you, Mr. Thomas, but all my find the good effects of it by this time: but lady's flower-pots are full.
you have got the lazy, unwholesome, London Young M. Will you accept of them for fashion of lying abed in a morning, and there's yourself, then? [Catching hold of her] What's gout for you-Why, sir, I have not been in ihe matter? you look as if you were angry bed five minutes after sunrise these thirty with me,
years, am generally up before it; and I never Ros. Pray let go my hand.
iook a dose of physic but once in my life, and Young M. Nay, pr’y!hee, why is this? you that was in compliment to a cousin of mine, ‘sban't go, I have something to say to you. an apothecary, ihat bad just set up business. Ros. Well, but I must go, I will go;
I de- Jus. W. Well but, master Hawthorn, let sire, Mr. Thomas
me tell you, you know nothing of the matter; for, I say, sleep is necessary for a man; ay,
and I'll maintain it. Gentle youth, ah, tell me why
Haw. What, when I maintain the conStill you force me thus to fly?
trary ?-Look you, neighbour Woodcock, you Cease, oh! cease to persevere;
ar: a rich man, a man of worship, a justice of Speak not what I must not hear; peace, and all thal; but learn to know the To my heart its ease restore;
respect that is due to the sound from the inGo, and never see mc more. [Erit
. firm; and allow me that superiority a good Young M. This girl is a riddle – That she constitution gives me over you-Health is the loves me I think there is no rocm to doubt; greatest of all possessions; and 'tis a maxim she takes a thousand opportunities to let me with me, that à bale cobler is a better man see it: and yet, when I speak to her, she will than a sick king: hardly give me an answer; and, if I attempt Jus. W. Well, well, you are a sportsman.“ the smallest familiarity, is gone in an instant- Haw. And so would you be too, if you I feel my passion for her grow every day would take my advice. A sportsman! why more and more violent-Well, would I marry there is nothing like it. I would not exchange her? — would I make a mistress of her if I the satisfaction 'I feel, while I am beating the could? – Two things, called prudence and lawns and thickets about my little farm, for honour, forbid either. What am I pursuing, all the enlerlainment and pageantry in Christthen? A shadow. Sure my evil genius laid endom. this snare in my way. However, there is one comfort, it is in my power to fly from it; if|
Let gay ones and great, so, why do I hesilale? I am distracted, unable
Make ihe most of iheir fate, to determine any thing.
From pleasure to pleasure they run;
Well, who cares a jot,
I envy them not,
While I have my dog and my gun.
For exercise, air,
To the fields I repair,
The blisses I find,
No stings leave behind,
Hodge. Did your worship call, sir?
his Hands, and a Net with Birds at his rest of these rascals been? but I suppose I Girdle.
need not ask – You must know there is a
statute, a fair for hiring servants, held upon There was a jolly miller once,
my green to-day; we have it usually at this Liv'd on the river Dee;
season of the year, and it never fails to put He work'd and sung from morn till night; all the folks hereabout out of their senses. No lark more blithe than be.
Hodge. Lord, your honour, look out, and And this the burtheu of his song,
see what a nice show they make yonder; they For ever us'd to be
had got pipers, and fiddlers, and were dancing I care for nobody, not I,
as I came along, for dear life - I never saw If no one cares for me.
such a mortal throng in our village in all my House;, here, house! what all gadding, all born days again. abroad! house, I say, billi-ho, ho!
Haw. Why, I like this now, this is as it Jus. W. [Withoul] Here's a noise, here's should be. a racket! William, Robert, Hodge! why does Jus. W. No, no, 'tis a very foolish piece of not somebody answer? Odds my life, I believe business; good for nothing but to promote the fellows have lost their bearing!
idleness and the getting of bastards: but I shall
take measures for preventing it anolher year, Enter Justice Woodcock. and I doubt wbether I am not sufficiently Ob, master Hawthorn! I guessed it was some authorized already; for by an act passed Anno such madcap-Are you there?
undecimo Caroli primi, which empowers a
A I R.
justice of peace, who is lord of the manor- Luc. So! give it me. Haw. Come, come, never mind the act; let
[Reads the Letter to herself, me tell you, this is a very proper, a very use- Hodge. Lord a inercy! how my arm achs ful meeting; I want a servant or two myself, with beating that plaguy beast: I'll be bang'd I must go see wbat your market affords ;- if I won'na rather ha' thrash'd balf a day, you shall
go, and the girls, my little Lucy than ha' ridden her. and ihe other young rogue, and we'll make a Luc. Well, Hodge, you have done your day on't as well as the rest.
business very well. Jus. W. I wish, master Hawthorn, I could Hodge. Well, have not I now? teach you to be a little more sedate: why Luc. Yes-Mr. Eustace tells me in this letter, won't
you take pattern by me, and consider that he will be in the green lane, at the other your dignity? - Odds heart, I don't wonder end of the village, by twelve o'clock – You you are not a rich man; you laugh too much know where he came before. ever to be rich.
Hodge. Ay, ay. Haw. Right, neighbour Woodcock! health, Luc. Well
, you must go there; and wall good humour, and competence, is my motto: till he arrives, and watch your opportunity ånd, if my executors have a mind, they are introduce him, across the fields, into the life welcome to make it my epitaph.
summer-house, on the left side of the gardes
Hodge. That's enough. The honest heart, whose thoughts are clear
Luc. But take particular care that nobody
sees you. From fraud, disguise, and guile, Need neither fortune's frowning fear,
Hodge. I warrant you. Nor court the barlot's smile.
Luc. Nor for your life drop a word of i
to any mortal.
Luc. And, Hodge-
Well, well, say no more;
Sure you told me before;
I see the full length of my tether; Hodge. Who calls ? bere am I.
Do you think I'in a fool, Luc. Well, have you been?
Thai I need go to school? Hodge. Been, ay, I ha' been far enough, I can spell you and put you together. an that be all: you never knew any thing fall
A word to the wise, out so crossly in your born days. Luc. Why, what's the matter?
Will always suffice;
Addsniggers, go talk to your parrot; Hodge. Why you know, I dare not take a
I'm not such an elf, horse out of bis worship's stables this morning, for fear it should be missed, and breed ques
Though I say it myself,
But I know a tions; and our old nag at home was so cruelly
sheep's bead from a carre! beat i'th' hoofs, that, poor beast, it had not a foot to set to ground; so I was fain to go to Luc. How severe is my case! Here I am farmer Ploughshare's, at the Grange, to bor- obliged to carry on a clandestine correspondet row the loan of his bald filly; and, would you with a man in all respects my equal, because think it? after walking all that way–de'el from the oddity of my father's temper is such, 19. me, if the crossgrained toad did not deny me I dare not tell him I have ever yet seen thi the favour,
person I should like to marry – But perlane Luc. Unlucky!
he has quality in his eye, and bopes, Hodge. Well, then I went my ways to the or other, as I am his only child, io match : King'shead in the village, but all their cattle with a litle -vain imagination! were at plough: and I was as far to seck below at the turnpike: so al last, for want of
A I R. a better, I was forced to take up with dame Cupid, god of soft persuasion, Quicksei's blind mare.
Take the helpless lover's part: Luc. Oh, then you have been?
Seize, oh seize some kind occasion, Hodge. Yes, yes, I ha' been.
To reward a faithful heart. Luc. Pshaw! Why did not you say so al once?
Justly those we tyrants call, Hodgr. Ay, but I have had a main tire
Who the body would entbral; some jaunt on't, for she is a sorry jade at best.
Tyrants of more cruel kind, Luc. Well, well, did you see Mr. Eustace,
Those, who would enslave the mind. and what did he say to you?-Come, quick- What is grandeur? soe to rest, have you e'er a leiter?
Childish mummery at best. Hodge. Yes, he gave me a letter, if I ha'na' Happy I in humble state; lost it.
Caich, ye fools, the glittering bait. Luc. Lost it, man! Hodge. Nay, nay, bave a bit of patience: Scene III.--A Field with a Sule. adwawns, you are always in such a hurry [Ruminaging his Pockets] | put it some
Enter Hodge, followed by MadGE. where in this waiscoat pocket. Oh, here Hodge. What does the wench follow m it is.
for? Odds flesh, folk may well talk, to see you