Young Mea. Ay; I have a secret to tell you; and, I swear, from that moment, there shall be an end of every thing betwixt us. Ros. Well, well, pray leave me now. Ros. What signifies my promising? I may break my promise-but, I tell you, I will. Young Mea. Enough! Yet, before I leave you, let me desire you to believe I love you more than ever man loved woman; and that, when I relinquish you, I give up all that can make my life supportable. Ros. What can this be that he wants to tell | me? I have a strange curiosity to hear it, mcthinks-well J. Wood. Hem! hem! Rossetta! Ros. So, I thought the devil would throw him in my way; now, for a courtship of a different kind; but I'll give him a surfeit—Did you call me, sir? J. Wood. Ay, where are you running so fast? Ros. I was only going into the house, sir. J. Wood. Well, but come here: come here, I say. [Looking about.] How do you do, Ros setta? vants' hall, with the smoke of a candle; and I suspect Ros. Not me, I hope, sir? No, sir; I am of another guess mind, I assure you; for, I have heard say, men are false and fickle J. Wood. Ay, that's your flaunting, idle, young fellows; so they are: and they are so damned impudent, I wonder a woman will have any thing to say to them; besides, all that they want is something to brag of, and tell again. Ros. Why, I own, sir, if ever I was to make a slip, it should be with an elderly gentleman, about seventy, or seventy-five years of age. J. Wood. No, child, that's out of reason; though I have known many a man turned of threescore with a hale constitution. Kos. Then, sir, he should be troubled with the gout, have a good strong, substantial, wintercough-and I should not like him the worse-if he had a small touch of the rheumatism. J. Wood. Pho, pho, Rossetta: this is jesting. Ros. No, sir, every body has a taste, and I have mine. J. Wood. Well, but Rossetta, have you thought of what I was saying to you? Ros. What was it, sir? J. Wood. Ah! you know, you know, well enough, hussy. Ros. Dear sir, consider what has a poor servant to depend on but her character? And, I have heard, you gentlemen will talk one thing before, and another after. J. Wood. I tell you again, these are the idle, flashy, young dogs: but when you have to do with a staid, sober man Røs. And a magistrate, sir ! J. Wood. Right! it is quite a different thing. Well, shall we, Rossetta, shall we? it. Ros. Really, sir, I don't know what to say to Enter HAWTHORN. Haw. So, so, Justice at odds with gravity! his worship playing at romps! Your servant, sir. J. Wood. Ha! friend Hawthorn! Haw. I hope I don't spoil sport, neighbour? I thought I had the glimpse of a petticoat as I came in here. J. Wood. Oh, the maid! Ay, she has been gathering a sallad-But come hither, master Hawthorn, and I'll shew you some alterations I intend to make in my garden. Haw. No, no, I am no judge of it; besides, I want to talk to you a little more about thisTell me, Sir Justice, where you helping your maid to gather a sallad here, or consulting her taste in your improvements, eh? Ha, ha, ha! Let me see, all among the roses; egad, I like your notion: but you look a little blank upon it: you are ashamed of the business, then, are you? We all love a pretty girl-under the rose. J. Wood. I profess, master Hawthorn, this is all Indian all Cherokee language to me; I don't understand a word of it. you can under Haw. No? may be not well, sir, will you read this letter, and try whether stand that! it is just brought by a servant, who stays for an answer. J. Wood. A letter, and to me? [Taking the letter.] Yes, it is to me and yet I am sure it comes from no correspondent, that I know of.— Where are my spectacles? not but I can see very well without them, master Hawthorn; but this seems to be a sort of a crabbed hand. Sir, I am ashamed of giving you this trouble ;-but, I am informed there is an unthinking boy, a son of mine, now disguised, and in your service in the capacity of a gardener: Tom is a little wild, but an honest lad, and no fool either, though I am his father that say it.'-Tom-ob, this is Thomas, our gardener; I always thought that he was a better man's child then he appeared to be, though I never mentioned it. Haw. Well, well, sir, pray let us hear the rest of the letter. J. Wood. Stay, where is the place? Oh, here: 'I am come in quest of my run-away, and write this at an inn in your village, while I am swal lowing a morsel of dinner, because, not having I'll assure you, a very well-worded, civil letter. Do you know any thing of the person who writes it, neighbour? Haw. Let me consider-Meadows! by dad I believe it is Sir William Meadows of Northamptonshire; and, now I remember, I heard, some time ago, that the heir of that family had absconded, on account of a marriage that was disagreeable to him. It is a good many years since I have seen Sir William, but we were once well acquainted: and, if you please, sir, I will go and conduct him to the house. J. Wood. Do so, master Hawthorn, do soBut ray, what sort of a man is this Sir William Meadows? Is he a wise man? Haw. There is no occasion for a man that has five thousand pounds a-year, to be a conjuror; but I suppose you ask that question, because of this story about his son; taking it for granted, that wise parents make wise children? J. Wood. No doubt of it, Master Hawthorn, no doubt of it-I warrant you we shall find now, that this young rascal has fallen in love with some minx, against his father's consent-Why, sir, if I had as many children as king Priam had, that we read of at school, in the destruction of Troy, not one of them should serve me so. but we should remember when we were young Haw. Well, well, neighbour, perhaps not; don such a trick in my day, as ever a spark in ourselves; and I was as likely to play an old done it once, had the wench been as willing as I. the hundred; nay, between you and me, I had AIR. My Dolly was the fairest thing! Her breath disclosed the sweets of spring; J. Wood. Ha, you were always a scape-grace rattle-cap! tell me! young fellows will be young fellows, Haw. Odds heart, neighbour Woodcock, don't though we preach till we are hoarse again; and [Exeunt. so there's an end on't. SCENE III.-JUSTICE WOODCOCK's hall. Enter HODGE and MARGERY. Hodge. So mistress who let you in? Mar. Why, I let myself in. Hodge. Indeed! Marry come up! why, then pray let yourself out again. Times are come to a pretty pass; I think you might have had the manners to knock at the door, first-What does the wench stand for ! Mur. I want to know if his worship is at home. Hodge. Well, what's your business with his worship. Mar. Perhaps you will hear that-Look ye, Hodge, it does not signify talking; I am come, once for all, to know what you intends to do, for I won't be made a fool of any longer. Hodge. You won't? Mur. No, that's what I won't, by the best man that ever wore a head; I am the makegame of the whole village upon your account: and I'll try whether your master gives you toleration in your doings. Hodge. You will? Mar. Yes, that's what I will; his worship shall be acquainted with all your pranks, and see how you will like to be sent for a soldier. Hodge. There's the door; take a friend's advice, and go about your business. Mar. My business is with his worship; and I won't go till I sees him. Hodge. Look, you Madge; if you make any of your orations here, never stir if I don't set the dogs at you-Will you begone? Mar. I won't. Ros. What's the matter, I say? Hodge. Why nothing I tell you-MadgeMar. Yes, but it is something; it's all along of she, and she may be ashamed of herself. Ros. Bless me, child, do you direct your discourse to me? Mar. Yes, I do, and to nobody else; there was not a kinder soul breathing than he was till of late; I had never a cross word from him till he kept you company; but all the girls about say, there is no such thing as keeping a sweetheart for you. Ros. Do you hear this, friend Hodge? Hodge. Why, you don't mind she, I hope ? but if that vexes her, I do like you, I do; my mind runs upon nothing else; and if so be as you was agreeable to it, I would marry you to-night, before to-morrow. Mar. You're a nasty monkey; you are parjured; you know you are, and you deserve to have your eyes tore out. Hodge. Let me come at ber-I'll teach you to call names, and abuse folk. Mar. Do; strike me-you a man! Ros. Hold, hold-we shall have a battle here presently, and I may chance to get my cap tore off. Never exasperate a jealous woman-'tis taking a mad bull by the horns-Leave me to manage her. Hodge. You manage her! I'll kick her. Hodge. Here, Towzer! [Whistling.] Whu, get the better of her by fair means-I warrant wha, whu ! AIR. Was ever poor fellow so plagued with a vixen? Zawns! Mudge don't provoke me, but mind what I say; You've chose a wrong parson for playing your tricks on, So pack up your alls, and be trudging away: You'd better be quiet, And not breed a riot; I'll bring her to reason. [Erit. Hodge. Well, do so then-But may I depend upon you? when shall I speak to the parson? Ros. We'll talk of that another time-Go. Hodge. Madge, good bye. Ros. The brutality of this fellow shocks me! Oh man, man!-you are all alike-A bumkin here, bred at the barn-door! had he been brought up in a court, could he have been more fashionably vicious? shew me the lord, 'squire, 'Sblood, must I stand prating with you here all colonel, or captain of them all, can out-do him. day? I've got other matters to mind; Mayhap you may think me an ass; But to the contrary you'll find: A fine piece of work by the mass! Enter ROSSETTA. Ros. Sure I heard the voice of discord hereas I live, an admirer of mine, and, if I mistake not, a rival!—I'll have some sport with themhow now, fellow-servant, what's the matter? AIR. Cease, gay seducer, pride to take, In triumphs o'er the fair; Where, then, to shun a shameful fate, In every rank, in every state, Mar. I am ready to burst-I can't stay in the Hodge. Nothing, Mrs. Rossetta, only this young woman wants to speak with his worship-place any longer. Madge, follow me. Mar. No, Hadge, this is your fine madam; but I am as good flesh and blood as she, and have as clear a skin too, thof I may'nt go so gay; and now she's here, I'll tell her a piece of my mind. Hodge. Hold your tongue, will you? Ros. Hold, child; come hither. Ros. Well, but I have something to say to you of consequence, and that will be for your good; I suppose this fellow promised you marriage? Mar. Ay, or he should never have prevailed upon me. Ros. Well, now you see the ill consequence of trusting to such promises: when once a man hath cheated a woman of her virtue, she has no longer hold of him; he despises her for wanting that which he hath robbed her of; and, like a lawless conqueror, triumphs in the ruin he hath occasioned. Mar. Nan! Ros. However, I hope the experience you have got, though somewhat dearly purchased, will be of use to you for the future; and, as to any designs I have upon the heart of your lover, you may make yourself easy; for I assure you, I shall be no dangerous rival; so go your ways, and be a good girl. [Exit. Mar. Yes-I don't very well understand her talk, but I suppose that's as much as to say she'll keep him herself; well let her, who cares? I don't fear getting better nor he is any day of the year, for the matter of that; and I have a thought come into my head that, may be, will be more to my advantage. AIR. Since Hodge proves ungrateful, no further I'll seek, But go up to the town in the waggon next week; Folks say in her silks she's now standing an end! SCENE IV.-A Room in JUSTICE WOODCOCK'S House. Enter ROSSETTA and LUCINDA. Ros. Ha, ha, ha! Oh, admirable, most delectably ridiculous! And so your father is content he should be a music-master, and will have him such, in spite of all your aunt can say to the contrary? Luc. My father and he, child, are the best companions you ever saw and have been singing together the most hideous duets; Bobbing Joan, and Old Sir Simon the King: Heaven knows where Eustace could pick them up; but he has gone through half the contents of Pills to purge Melancholy with him. Ros. And have you resolved to take wing tonight? Luc. This very night, my dear: my swain will go from hence this evening, but no farther than the inn, where he has left his horses; and, at twelve precisely, he will be with a post-chaise at the little gate that opens from the lawn into the road, where I have promised to meet him. Ros. Then depend upon it, I'll bear you com AIR. In love should there meet a fond pair, Whose words are th' excess of the heart : If aught of substantial delight, Enter HAWTHORN. Haw. Lucy, where are you? Ros. Mr. Hawthorn, your servant. Haw. What, my little water-wagtail !-The very couple I wished to meet: come hither both of you. Ros. Now, sir, what would you say to both of us? Haw. Why, let me look at you a little—have you got on your best gowns, and your best faces? If not, go and trick yourselves out directly, for I'll tell you a secret-there will be a young bachelor in the house, within these three hours that fall to the share of one of you, if you may look sharp-but whether mistress or maid Ros. Ay, marry, this is something; but how do you know whether either mistress or maid will think him worth acceptance? Haw. Follow me, follow me; I warrant you. Luc. I can assure you, Mr. Hawthorn, I am very difficult to please. Ros. And so am I, sir. Haw. Indeed! The youth that is formed to my mind, Of all things in nature love me ; Ros. Luc. Observe it, ye fair, in the choice of a mate: Smber, 'tis wedlock determines your fate. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I-A parlour in JUSTICE WOODCOCK's, lieve, I have done in a degree as tolerably as my house. Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWSs, followed by HAWTHORN. Sir Wil. Well, this is excellent; this is mighty good; this is mighty merry, faith! ha, ha, ha! was ever the like heard of? that my boy, Tom, should run away from me, for fear of being forced to marry a girl he never saw? that she should scamper from her father, for fear of being forced to marry him; and that they should run into one another's arms this way in disguise, by mere accident; against their consents, and without knowing it, as a body may say! May I never do an ill turn, master Hawthorn, if it is not one of the oddest adventures partly a Huw. Why, Sir William, it is a romance; novel; a pleasanter history by half, than the loves of Dorastus and Faunia; we shall have ballads made of it within these two months, setting forth, how a young 'squire became a serving man of low degree; and it will be stuck up with Margaret's Ghost and the Spanish Lady, against the walls of every cottage in the country. Sir Wil. But what pleases me best of all master Hawthorn, is the ingenuity of the girl. May I never do an ill turn, when I was called out of the room, and the servant said she wanted to speak to me, if I knew what to make ou't: but when the little gipsey took me aside, and sold me her name, and how matters stood, I was quite astonished, as a body may say; and could not believe it partly; 'till ber young friend that she is with here, assured me of the truth on't: Indeed at last, I began to recollect her face, though I had not set eyes on her before since she was the height of a full-grown grey-hound. | Haw. Well, Sir William, your son, as yet, knows nothing of what has happened, nor of your being come hither; and, if you'll follow my counsel, we'll have some sport with him.-He and his mistress were to meet in the garden this evening by appointment; she's gone to dress herself in all her airs; will you let me direct your proceedings in this affair? neighbours. AIR. The world is a well furnished table, Some gorge, while some scarce have a taste; Enter ROSSETTA. Ros. Sir William, I beg pardon for detaining you; but I have had so much difficulty in adjusting my borrowed plumes: Sir Wil. May I never do an ill turn but they fit you to a T, and you look very well, so you do: Cocks-bones, how your father will chuckle when he comes to hear this!-Her father, master Hawthorn, is as worthy a man as lives by bread, and has been almost out of his senses for the loss of her-But tell me, hussy, has not this been all a scheme, a piece of conjuration between you and my sou? Faith, I am half persuaded it has, it looks so like hocus-pocus, as a body may say. Ros Upon my honour, Sir William, what has happened, has been the mere effect of chance; I came hither unknown to your son, and be unknown to me; I never in the least suspected that Thomas the gardener was other than his appearance spoke him; and, least of all, that he was a person with whom I had so close a connection. Mr. Hawthorn can testify the astonishment I was in, when he first informed me of it; but I thought it was my duty to come to an immediate explanation with you. Sir Wil. Is not she a neat wench, master Hawthorn? May I never do an ill turn but she is-But, you little plaguy devil, how came this love affair between you? Ros. I have told you the whole truth very ingenuously, sir: since your son and I have been fellow-servants, as I may call it, in this house, I Sir Wil. With all my heart; master Haw- have had more than reason to suspect he had thorn, with all my heart: do what you will with taken a liking to me; and I will own with equal me, say what you please for me; I am so over-frankness, had I not looked upon him as a perjoyed, and so happy-And may I never do an ill son so much below me, I should have had no turn, but I am very glad to see you too; ay, and objection to receiving his courtship. partly as much pleased at that as any thing else; for we have been merry together before now, when we were some years younger: Well, and how has the world gone with you, master Hawthorn, since we saw one another last? How. Why, pretty well, Sir William; I have no reason to complain: every one has a mixture of sour with his sweets: bat, in the main, I be Haw. Well said, by the lord Harry! all above board, fair and open. Ros. Perhaps. I may be censured by some for this candid declaration; but I love to speak my sentiments; and I assure you, Sir William, in my opinion, I should prefer a gardener, with your son's good qualities, to a knight of the shire without them. |