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I heard him Jament his fate. Rosina's virtues offended almost past forgiveness.. Will th 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. Whoeve Dorcas, and answer my sincerely, is her beari offends the object of his love is unwortby free?
obtaining her. Dor. To be sure, she never would let any Bel. This noble refusal paints your charac of our young men come a near her; and yet— ter. I know another, Rosina, who loves yo Bel. Speak: I am on the rack.
with as strong, though purer ardour:- but Dor. I'm aseard-she mopes and she pines allowed to bope
But your honour would be angry - I'm Ros. Do not, sir, envy me the calm d afeard the captain
light of passing my independent days wi Beh Then my foreboding heart was right. Dorcas; in whom I have found a mother
Dor. Bless thec, my child; thy kindne Enter Rustic.
melts 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 Be Bel. Rosina!
ville, lowers them again, and leans
Dor. You, sir? You ?
Bel. Then I am happy! My life! my Rosin Bel. With me, sir-I will not lose sight Phæ. Do you speak to his honour, Willian 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, you
Rust. Don't be frightened, sir; the Irishmen honour-William pray'd me to let him ke have rescued her: she is just here. [Exit. me company-so he gain'd my good will
if so be my grandmother consent Enter the Two Irishmen.
(Courtesying, and playing with her Apre 1 Irish. [To Dorcas] Dry your tears, my Will
. If your honour would be so good jewel; we have done for them.
speak to Dorcas. Dor. Have you sav'd her? 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 he nothing at all. ri 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 Will. Phæ. [To Beloille] Thank your be first; and hearing a woman cry, I look'd up, nour. and saw them pulting her into a skiff againsi Beloille joins their Hands, they bou an her will. Says I, “Paddy, is not that the courtesey. clever little crater that was glaning in the Wil. What must I do with the purs field with us this morning?" "Tis so, sure your honour? Dorcas would not take it. enough," says he. -"By St. Patrick," says I, Bel. I believe my brother has the best righ "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 bonest Irish shillelays 2), knock'd them out of the skiff, men, who fought so bravely for our Rosina, and brought her back safe: and here she co- Bel. You have made good use of it, 12 mes, my jewel.
liam; nor shall my gratitude slop bere. Re-enter Rustic, leading Rosina, who throws I am worthy of your esteem, I will return
Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother. Wbel 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. Re Bel. I dread to find the criminal.
sume the race of honour; be indeed a sol Rust. Your honour need not go far a field, dier, and be more than my brother-be my I believe; it must have been some friend of friend. the captain's, for his French 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, wbate'er the glorious profession you bave embracd
powers ; But be gone, I renounce you as
Capt. B. Son some her gifts kind fort! brother,
my and renounce my ill-plac'd friendship.
showers, Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have
Who reap, like us, in this rich scis
Capt, B. Yet those who taste her bounty less 1) Rescue.
The sigb, malevolent repress, a) Oak-sticks, – The Irish are famous for the use of the
And loud the feeling bosom blesi, stick; it is generally a piece of oak, and the regular size is as big round as their wrist, and the exact length
Which something leaves for Fun
Ros. How blest am I, supremely blest!
The hearts you glad your own display, Since Belville all his soul exprest,
The hear'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- how 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,
LOVE IN A VILLAGE, Comic Opera, by Isaak Bickerstall. Acted 1762, at Covent Garden. This performance, though compiled from harles Johnson's Village Opera, Wyelerley's Gentleman Dancing-Master, Marivaux's Jeu L'Amour et du Hasard, od other musical pieces, yel met with so much favour from the town, that it was acted the first season almost as any times as The Beggar's Opera had formerly been, and nearly with as much success. It certainly has the merit of ring inofensive in its tendency, probable in iis incidents, spiriied in iis action, agreeable for its ease and regulari's, id natural in the delineation of character.
For shame, you a lover! CENE I.-A Garden, with Statues, Foun
More firmness discover; tains, and Flower-pots.
Take courage, nor here longer mope;
Resist and be free, 'everal Arbours appear in the side Scenes ;
Run riot, like me, ROSETTA and LUCINDA are discovered at
And, to perfect the picture, elope. work, seated upon two Garden-chairs.
Luc. And is this your advice?
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 uc. Hope! thou earnest of delight,
of the opportunity to seule all preliminariesSoflest soother of the mind,
And then-But take notice, whenever we deBalmy cordial, prospect bright,
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 blest. 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 a sad thing to live in a village a of my haring any such connexion; may avui, undred miles from the capital, with a pre-indeed, has her doubts and surmises; but, beosterous gouty father, and a superannuated sides that my father will not allow any one raiden 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, veasure your own fault: bere is this Mr. never to agree in any thing: Custace, a man of character and family; he Ros. Except being absurd; you must allow kes you, you like him: you know one ano- they sympathize perfectly in that — But, now ber's minds, and yet you will not resolve to we are on the subject, í 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
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 Confin'd 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
my parents to avoid an odious marriage
You smile at that now; and I know you think Ros. Indeed, Lucinda, you are very silly.
Ros. Blush! I am sure I don't blush.
Ros. Pshaw! Lucinda, how can you be se
Luc. Well, don't be angry, and I have doneNo mortal r an shall wed with me, Till first he's made my choice.
But suppose you did like him, how could se
help yourself? [Exeunt into an Arbour, 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 d Against tyrannic sway?
June, at half an hour past live in the morning, Luc. Well, but my dear, mad girl [Taking out a Pockei-book] Test my father's
Ros. Lucinda, don't talk to me-Was your house unknown to any one, having made fre father to go to London; meet there by acci- with a coat and jacket of our gardener's the dent with an old fellow as wrong-headed as fitted me, by way of a disguise; so says m bimself; and, in a fit of absurd friendship, pocket-book: and chance directing me to the agree to marry you to that old fellow's son, village, on the twentieth of the same morti whom you had never seen, without consulting procured a recommendation to the worship your inclinations, or allowing you a negative, ful justice Woodcock, to be the superintendar in case he should not prove agreeable- of his pumpkins and cabbages, because I woul
Luc. Why I should think it a little hard, let my father see, I chose to run any length I confess-yet, when I see you in the charac- rather than submit to what his obstinacy work ter of a chambermaid
hare forced me, a marriage against my in Ros. Is is the only character, my dear, in clination, with a woman I never saw. [P which I could hope to lie concealed; and, I up the Book, and takes up a Waterint can tell you, I was reduced to the last ex: pot] Here I have been three weeks, and it tremity, when, in consequence of our old that time I am as much altered as if I had boarding-school friendship, I applied to you to changed my nalure with my habil.—'Sdeach receive me in this capacity; for we expected to fall in love with a chambermaid: And ye. the parties the very next week.
if I could forget that I am the son and her Luc. But had not you a message from your of Sir William Meadows. But that's impossible intended spouse, to let you
know he was as little inclined to such ill-concerted nuptials as
O! had 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, after that, What bliss bad I been born to taste, what hopes could I bave of being happy with Which now I ne'er must know! him?
Ye envious powers! why bare ye plac'd 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 readiez been absent
there? the trembling, of my heart tells me nj 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 dosi Abigail 1), that I am quite charmed with my
from the Arbour. situation–But hold, who stalks yonder in the Ros. Lucinda' was certainly in the right di yard, that the dogs are so glad to sce? it; and yet I blush to own my weakness ever
Luc. Daddy Hawthorn, as I live! He is to myself -- Marry, hang thú fellow for bit 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 speak By the way, what will you do with yourself to her. [Turning to a Rose-tree, and plucking while I step into the house to see after my the Flowers] Now or never is the time to trusty messenger, Hodge?
conquer myself: besides, I have some reaser Ros. No matter; I'll sit down in that arbour, to believe ihe girl bas no aversion to me: 28 and listen to the singing of the birds: you as I wish not io do her an injury, it wouls know I am fond of melancholy amusements. be cruel to fill her head with notions of what
Luc. So it scems, indeed: 'sure, Rosetta, can never happen. [Hums a l'une] Pshaw none of your admirers had power to touch rot these roses, how they prick one's finger your heart; you are not in love, I hope? Ros. fle takes no notice of
Ros. In love! that's pleasant: who do you much the beller; I'll be as indifferent suppose
I should be in love with, pray? is. I am sure the poor lad likes me; and if Luc. Why, let me see-What do you think I was to give him any encouragement
, I. sup of Thomas, our gardener? There he is at the pose the next thing he talked of would be man, and the servants say, he's always writing on, dear pride, I thank you for that thought, verses on you.
Young M. Hah, going without a word! 2) Servant-maid.
look!- can't bear ibat-Mrs. Rosetta, 1 am
A I R.
thering a few roses here, if you please tol. Haw. Am I here? Yes: and, if you had te 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 ly'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 urself, then? [Catching hold of her] What's gout for you—Why, sir, I have not been in : malter? you look as if you were angry bed five minutes after sunrise these thirty
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'ythee, why is this? you that was in compliment to a cousin of mine, in't go, I have something to say to you. an apothecary, ibat bad just set up business. Ros. Well, but I must go, I will go;
I de- Jus. W. Well but, master Hawthorn, let e, Mr. Thomas
me tell you, you know nothing of the matter;
for, I say, sleep is necessary for a man; ay, A I R.
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;
arz a rich man, a man of worship, a justice of Speak not what I must not hear; peace, and all that; but learn to know the To my heart its ease restore;
respect that is due to the sound from the inGo, and never see me more. [Exit. 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 es me I think there is no room to doubl; greatest of all possessions; and 'lis a maxim takes a thousand opportunities to let me with me, that à bale cobler is a better man it: and yet, when I speak to her, she will than a sick king: dly give me an answer; and, if I attempt Jus. W. Well, well, you are a sportsman."
smallest familiarity, is gone in an instant- Haw. And so would you be too, if you cel my passion for her grow every day would take my advice. A sportsman! why re and more violent-Well, would I marry there is nothing like it: I would not exchange .? — would I make a mistress of her if I the satisfaction I feel, while I am beating the ild? – Two things, called prudence and lawns and thickets about my little farm, for pour, forbid either. What am I pursuing, all the entertainment and pageantry in Christn? A shadow. Sure my evil genius laid endom. snare in my way. However, there is one
AIR, nfort, it is in my power to fly from it; if
Let gay ones and great, why do I hesitate? I am distracted, unable
Make the most of iheir fate, 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. of my stubborn flame I try; iwear this moment to forget her,
For exercise, air,
To the fields I repair,
The blisses I find, loast my freedom, fly to meet her,
No stings leave behind, And confess myself a slave. [Exit.
But health and diversion unite.
Hodge. Did your worship. call, sir? ter Hawthorn, with a Fowlingpiece in Jus. W. Call, sir; where have you and the lis 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 A I R.
statute, a fair for hiring servants, held upon here 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 le 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 ind 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 care for nobody, not I,
as I came along, for dear life — I never saw If no one cares for me.
such a mortal ibrong in our village in all my ise, here, house! what all gadding, all born days again. oad! house, I say, hilli-ho, bo!
Haw. Why, I like this now, this is as it lus. W. (Withoul] Here's a noise, here's should be. acket! William, Robert, Hodge! why does Jus. W. No, no, 'tis a very foolish piece of somebody answer? Odds my life, I believe business; good for nothing but to promote fellows bave lost their hearing! idleness and the getting of bastards: but I shall Enter Justice Woodcock.
take measures for preventing it another year,
and I doubt wbether I am not sufficiently master Hawthorn! I guessed it was some authorized already; for by an act passed Anno h madcap-Are you there?
undecimo Caroli primi, which empowers a
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 ach
: ful meeting; I want a servant or two myself, with beating that plaguy beast:, I'll be bangid I must go see wbat your market affords ;- if I won'na' rather ha' thrashid balf a day, and you shall go, and the girls, my little Lucy than ba' ridden ber. and the other young rogue, and we'll make a Luc. Well, Hodge, you have done your day on't as well as the rest.
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 – Ya 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 was good humour, and competence, is my motto: till he arrives, and watch your opportunity is and, if my executors have a mind, they are introduce him, across the fields, into the little 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 harlot's smile.
Luc. Nor for your life drop a word of it
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'm fool, Luc. Well, bave you been ?
That I need go to school? Hodge. Been, ay, I ba' been far enough, I can spell you and put you togetber. 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; Hodge. Why you know, I dare not take a
Addsniggers, go talk to your parrot; horse out of his worship's stables this morning,
I'm not such an elf, for fear it should be missed, and breed ques
Though I say it myself, tions; and our old nag at home was so cruelly
But I know a sheep's head from a carrot.
[Erd 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 correspondence row the loan of his bald filly; and, would you with a man in all respects my equal
, became think it? after walking all that way-de'el from the oddily of my father's temper is such, tha me, if the crossgrained toad did not deny me I dare not tell him I hare ever yet seen the the favour.
But perhaps Luc. Unlucky!
be bas quality in his eye, and hopes, one day Hodge. Well, then I went my ways to the or other, as I am his only child, io match me King'shead in the village, but all their cattle with a title—vain imagination! were at plough: and I was as far to seck below at the turnpike; so at last, for want of a better, I was forced to take up with dame Cupid, god of soft persuasion, Quicksel'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 at once?
Justly those we tyrants call, Hodge. Ay, but I have had a main tire
Who the body would enthral; 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? foe 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.
Catch, ye fools, the glittering bait. Luc. Lost it, man! Hodge. Nay, nay, have a bit of patience: SCENE III.-A Field with a Stile. adwawns, you are always in such a hurry [Rummaging his Pockets] I put it some
Enter Hodge, followed by MADGE where in this waiscoat pocket. Oh, bere Hodge. What does the wench follow me it is.
for? Odds flesh, folk may well talk, to see you