Lord Aim. Thank you, Patty; I hope we shall be happy. Pat. Upon my knees, upon my knees, I pray it! May every earthly bliss attend you! may your days prove an uninterrupted course of delightful tranquillity! and your mutual friendship, confidence, and love, end but with your lives! Lord Aim. Rise, Patty, rise; say no moreI suppose you'll wait upon Miss Sycamore before you go away-at present, I have a little businessAs I said, Patty, don't afflict yourself: I have been somewhat hasty with regard to the farmer; but since I see how deeply you are interested in his affairs, I may possibly alter my designs with regard to him- -You know You know, Patty, your marriage with him is no concern of mine-I only speak Giles. Miss Pat-Odd rabbit it, I thought his honour was here! and I wish I may die if my heart did not jump into my mouth-Come, come down in all haste! there's such rig below as you never knew in your born days. Pat. Rig! Giles. Think! why I think of nothing else. It's all over the place, mun, as how you are to be my spouse; and you would not believe what game folks make of me. Pat. Shall I talk to you like a friend, farmer? You and I were never designed for one another; and I am morally certain we should not be happy. Giles. Oh! as for that matter, I never has no words with nobody. Pat. Shall I speak plainer to you, then?—I don't like you. Giles, No! Pat. On the contrary you are disagreeable to me—— Giles. Am I? Giles. Here's a turn! I don't know what to Giles. Ay, and fun-There's as good as forty make of it: she's gone mad, that's for sartinof the tenants, men and maidens, have got upon wit and learning have cracked her brain-Poor the lawn before the castle, with pipers and gar- soul! poor soul! It is often the case of those lands; just for all the world as thof it was May- who have too much of them. Lord, Lord, how day; and the quality's looking at them out of the sorry I be! But hold, she says I bamt to her windows-Tis as true as any thing; on account mind-mayn't all this be the effect of modish of my lord's coming home with his new lady-coyness, to do like the gentlewomen, because she Look here, I have brought a string of flowers along with me. Pat. Well, and what then? Giles. Why I was thinking, if so be as you would come down, as we might take a dance together little Sal, farmer Harrow's daughter, of the green, would fain have had me for a partner; but I said as how I'd go for one I liked better; one that I'd make a partner for life. Pat. Did you say so? Giles. Yes, and she was struck all of a heap she had not a word to throw to a dog-for Sal and I kept company once for a little bit. Pat. Farmer, I am going to say something to you, and I desire you will listen to it attentively. It seems you think of our being married toge ther? was bred among them? And I have heard say, they will be upon their vixen tricks, till they go into the very church with a man. Icod, there's nothing more likelier; for it is the cry of one and all, that she's the moral of a lady in every thing: and our farmers' daughters, for the matter of that, tho'f they have nothing to boast of but a scrap of red ribbon about their hats, will have as many turnings and windings as a hare, before one can lay a fast hold of them. There can no harm come of speaking with Master Fairfield, however. Odd rabbit it, how plaguy tart she was! I am half vest with myself now, that I let her go off so. A View of LORD AIMWORTH'S House, and Improvements: a Seat under a Tree, and Part of the Garden Wall, with a Chinese Pavilion over it. Several Country People appear dancing, others looking on; among whom are, MERVIN, disguised, RALPH, FANNY, and a Number of Gipsies. After the Dancers go off, THEODOSIA and PATTY enter through a Gate, supposed to have a Connection with the principal Building. The. Well, then, my dear Patty, you will run away from us? but why in such a hurry? I have a thousand things to say to you. Pat. I shall do myself the honour to pay my duty to you some other time, madam, at present I really find myself a little indisposed. The. But you know, Patty, I was always a distracted admirer of the country ; no damsel in romance was ever fonder of groves and purling streams: had I been born in the days of Arcadia, with my present propensity, instead of being a fine lady, as you call me, I should certainly have kept a flock of sheep. Pat. Well, madam, you have the sages, poets, and philosophers, of all ages, to countenance your way of thinking. The. And you, my little philosophical friend, don't you think me in the right, too? Pat. Yes, indeed, madam, perfectly. Fan. Heaven bless you, my sweet lady! bless good husband, and a great many of them. your honour's beautiful visage, and send you a The. A very comfortable wish, upon my word: who are you, child? The. Nay, I would by no means lay you under any restraint. But, methinks, the entertainment about begging from charitable gentlemen and Fan. A poor gipsey, an' please you, that goes we have just been taking part of, should have ladies-If you have ere a coal or a bit of whitput you into better spirits: I am not in an over-ing in your pocket, I'll write you the first letter merry mood myself; yet, I swear, I could not of your sweetheart's name; how many husbands look on the diversion of those honest folks, withyou will have, and tow many children, my lady: out feeling a certain gaieté de caur. I'll tell you whether it will be long or short, hapyou will let me look at your line of life, py or miserable. Pat. Why, indeed, madam, it had one circumstance attending it, which is often wanting to more polite amusements; that of seeming to give undissembled satisfaction to those who were engaged in it. The Oh, infinite, infinite! to see the chearful, healthy-looking creatures, toil with such a good will! To me, there were more genuine charms in their aukward stumping and jumping about, their rude measures, and homespun finery, than in all the dress, splendour, and studied graces of a birth-night bali-room. Pat. 'Tis a very uncommon declaration to be made by a fine lady, madam: but certainly, however the artful delicacies of high life may dazzle and surprise, nature has particular attractions, even in a cottage, her most unadorned state, which seldom fail to affect us, though we can scarce give a reason for it. or, if The. Oh! as for that, I know it alreadyyou cannot tell me any good fortune, and therefore, I'll hear none. Go about your business. Mer. Stay, madam, stay, [Pretending to lift a paper from the ground.] you have dropt something- Fan, call the young gentlewoman back. Fan. Lady, you have lost The. Pho, pho, I have lost nothing. Mer. Yes, that paper, lady; you dropt it as you got up from the chair. Fan, give it to her bonour. The. A letter with my address! [Takes the paper and reads. ‹ Dear Theodosia! Though the sight of me was so disagreeable to you, that you charged me never to approach you more, I hope my hand- gipsies. They said she should die at such a writing can have nothing to frighten or disgust time; and I warrant, as sure as the day came, you. I am not far off; and the person, who de- the poor gentlewoman actually died with the livers you this, can give you intelligence.-Come conceit. Come, Dossy, your mamma and I are hither, child! do you know any thing of the gen-going to take a walk. My lady, will you have tleman that wrote this? hold of my arm? Fan. My lady-- The. Make haste-run this moment-bring me to him-bring him to me! say I wait with impatience; tell him I will go, fly any whereMer. My life, my charmer! The. O, Heavens! Mr. Mervin ! Lady Syc. Come here, and let me tie this handkerchief about your neck; you have put yourself into a muck sweat already. [Ties a handkerchief about his neck.] Have you taken your Bardana this morning? I warrant you not now, though you have been complaining of twitches two or three times; and you know the gouty season is coming on.- Why will you be so neglectful of your health, Sir Harry? I protest I am forced to watch you like an infant. Sir Har. My lovely takes care of me, and I am obliged to her. Lady Syc. Well, but you ought to mind me, then, since you are satisfied, I never speak but for your good. I thought, Miss Sycamore, you were to have followed your papa and me into the garden. How far did you go with that wench? The. They are gipsies, madam, they say. Indeed, I don't know what they are. Lady Syc. I wish, miss, you would learn to give a rational auswer Sir Har. Eh! what's that? gipsies! Have we gipsics here? Vagrants, that pretend to a knowledge of future events; diviners, fortunetellers? Fan. Yes, your worship, we'll tell your fortune, or her ladyship's, for a crum of bread, or a little broken victuals: what you throw to your dogs, an' please you. Sir Har. Broken victuals, hussy! How do you think we should have broken victuals? If we were at home, indeed, perhaps you might get some such thing from the cook: but here we are only on a visit to a friend's house, and have nothing to do with the kitchen at all. Lady Syc. And do you think, Sir Harry, it is necessary to give the creature an account? Sir Har. No, love, no! but what can you say to obstinate people? Get you gone, bold face! I once knew a merchant's wife in the city, my lady, who had her fortune told by some of those Lady Syc. No, Sir Harry, I choose to go by myself. me Mer. Now, love, assist me! [Turning to the Gipsies.] Follow, and take all your cues from -Nay, but good lady and gentleman, you won't go without remembering the poor gipsies! Sir Har. Hey! here is all the gang after us. Gip. Pray, your noble honour! Lady Syc. Come back into the garden; we shall be covered with vermin. Gip. Out of the bowels of your commisseration! Lady Syc. They press on us more and more; yet that girl has no mind to leave them ; I shall swoon away! Sir Har, Don't be frightened, my lady; let me advance. Mer. I know not what to resolve on. Mer. I'll go back to the garden door. Mer. What do I see! 'Tis she, 'tis she herself! Oh, Theodosia ! Shall I climb the wall, and come up to you? The. No; speak softly: Sir Harry and my lady sit below at the end of the walk-How much am I obliged to you for taking this trouble! Mer. When their happiness is at stake, what is it men will not attempt? Say but you love me! The. What proof would you have me give you? I know of but one: if you please I am willing to go off with you. Mer. Are you? Would to Heaven I had brought a carriage! The. How did you come? Have you not horses? Mer. No; there is another misfortune. To avoid suspicion, there being but one little public house in the village, I dispatched my servant with them, about an hour ago, to wait for me at a town twelve miles distant, whither I pretended to go; but, alighting a mile off, I equipt myself, and came back as you see! neither can we, nearer then this town, get a post-chaise. Enter FANNY. Fan. Please your honour, you were so kind as to say you would remember my fellow-travellers for their trouble: and they think I have gotten the money. Mer. Oh, here; give them this-[Gives her money.] And for you, my dear little pilot, you have brought me so cleverly through my business, that I must Fun. Oh, Lord!-your honour-[MERVIN kisses her.] Pray don't kiss me again. Mer. Again, and again I have a thought come into my head-Theodosia will certainly have no objection to putting on the dress of a sister of mine-So, and so only, we may escape to-night-This girl, for a little money, will provide us with necessaries Fan. Dear gracious! I warrant you now, I ster and touzle one so?—If Ralph was to see am as red as my petticoat: why would you royyou, he'd be as jealous as the vengeance. Mer. Hang Ralph! Never mind him—There's a guinea for thee. Fan. What, a golden guinea?————— Mer. Yes; and if thou art a good girl, and do as I desire thee, thou shalt have twenty. Fan. Ay, but not all gold? Mer. As good as that is. Fan. Shall I though, if I does as you bids me? Mer. You shall. Fan. Precious heart! He's a sweet gentle- The. You say you have made a confidant of Fan. I don't know what I am thinking about, Mer. And what then? The. Why, in the mean time, you may devise some method to carry me from hence: and I'll take care you shall have an opportunity of communicating it to me. Mer. Well, but dear Theodosia Mer. I tell thee, thou shalt have them. Fan. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Mer. By Heaven, I am serious! Fun. Ha, ha, ha!-Why then I'll do whatever your honour pleases. Mer. Stay here a little, to see that all keeps quiet: you'll find me presently at the mill, where we'll talk farther. Enter RALPH. Fan. What a dear kind soul he is!-Here comes Ralph-I can tell him, unless he makes me his lawful wife, as he has often said he would, the devil a word more shall he speak to me. Ralph. So, Fan, where's the gentleman? Fun. How should I know where he is? what do you ask me for? Ralph. There's no harm in putting a civil question, be there? Why you look as cross and ill-natured Fan. Well, mayhap I do—and mayhap I have where-withal for it. Ralph. Why, has the gentleman offered any thing uncivil? Ecod, I'd try a bout as soon as look at him. Fan. He offer!-no-he's a gentleman every inch of him; but you are sensible, Ralph, you have been promising me a great while, this, and that, and t'other; and, when all comes to all, I don't see but you are like the rest of them. Ralph. Why, what is it I have promised? Fan. To marry me in the church, you have, a hundred times. Raleh. Well, and mayhap I will, if you'll have patience. Fun. Patience me no patience! you may do it now if you please. Ralph. Well, but suppose I don't please: I tell you, Fan, you're a fool, and want to quarrel with your bread and butter; I have had anger enow from feyther already upon your account, and you want me to come by more. As I said, if you have patience, mayhap things may fall out, and mayhap not. Fan. With all my heart, then; and now I know your mind, you may go hang yourself. Ralph. Ay, ay Fun. Yes, you may-who cares for you? Ralph. Well, and who cares for you, an you go to that? Fan. A menial feller-Go mind your mill and your drudgery; I don't think you worthy to wire my shoes-feller. Ralph. Nay, but Fan, keep a civil tongue in your head: odds flesh! I would fain know, what fly bites all of a sudden now! Fun. Marry come up, the best gentlemens' sons in the country have made me proffers; and if one is a miss, be a miss to a gentleman, I say, that will give one fine clothes, and take one to see the show, and put money in one's pocket. Ralph. Whu, whu-[She hits him a slap.] What's that for? Fan. What do you whistle for, then? Do you think I am a dog? Ralph. Never trust me, Fan, if I have not a mind to give you, with this switch in my hand here, as good a lacing Fan. Touch tue, if you dare! touch me, and I'll swear my life against you. Ralph. A murrain! with her damned little fist as hard as she could draw! Fan. Well, it's good enough for you; I'm not necessitated to take up with the impudence of such a low-lived monkey as you are.-A gentleman's my friend, and I can have twenty guineas in my hand, all as this is. Ralph. Belike from this Londoner, eh? Fan. Yes, from him-so you may take your promise of marriage; I don't value it that[Spits.] and if you speak to me, I'll slap your chops again. AIR. Lord, sir; you seem mighty uneasy; But I have two strings to my bow [Éxit. Ralph. Indeed! Now I'll be judged by any soul living in the world, if ever there was a vilet piece of treachery than this bere! there is no such thing as a true friend upon the face of the globe, and so I have said a hundred times! A couple of base, deceitful—after all my love and kindness shewn! Well, I'll be revenged; see an I ben't-Master Marvint, that's his name, an he do not sham it-he has come here and disguised unself: whereof 'tis contrary to law so to do; besides, I do partly know why he did it; and I'll fish out the whole conjuration, and go up to the castle and tell every syllable: a shan't carry a wench from me, were he twenty times the mon he is, and twenty times to that again; and moreover than so, the first time I meet un, I'll knock un down, tho'f 'twas before my lord himself: and he may capias me for it afterwards, an he wull. AIR. As they count me such a ninny, I'll bet any one a guinea They have scored without their host. But if I don't shew them in lieu of it, A trick that's fairly worth two of it, Then let me pass for a fool and an ass. To be sure yon sly cajoler Thought the work as good as done, But if I don't shew him in lieu of it, Then let me pass for a fool or an ass. [Exit. |