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The greatness that would mahe us grave

Is but an empty thing;
What more than mirth would mortals have? 330

The chearful man's a hing.

SCENE Fir.

Lucinda, Hodge.

Luc. Hist, hist, Hodge!
Hodge. Who calls f here am I.
Luc. Well, have you been?

Hodge. Been, ay I ha' been far enough, an that be all: you never knew any thing fall out so crossly in your born days.

Luc. Why, what's the matter?

Hodge. Why you know, I dare not take a horse out of his worship's stables this morning, for fear it should be missed, and breed questions; and our old nag at home was so cruelly beat i'th'hoofs, that, poor beast, it had not a foot to set to ground; so I was fain to go to farmer Ploughshare's, at the Grange, to borrow the loan of his bald filly: and, would you think it? after walking all that way—de'el from me, if the cross-grained toad did not deny me the favour.

Luc. Unlucky!

Hodge. Well, then I went my ways to the King'shead in the village, but all their cattle were at plough: and I was as far to seek below at the turnpike: so at last, for want of a better, I was forced to take up with dame Quickset's blind mare. 353

Luc. Oh, then you have been i

Hodge. Yes, yes, I ha' been.

Luc. Psha I Why did not you say so at once?

Hodge. Aye, but I have had a main tiresome jaunt on't, for she is a sorry jade at best.

Luc. Well, well, did you see Mr. Eustace, and what did he say to you ?—Come, quick—have you e'er a letter? 362

Hodge. Yes, he gave me a letter, if I ha'na lost it.

Luc. Lost it, man!

Hodge. Nay, nay, have a bit of patience: adwawns, you are always in such a hurry [rummaging his pochets] I put it somewhere in this waistcoat pocket. Oh here it is.

Luc. So, give it me. [reads the letter to herself.] Hodge. Lord-a-mercy! how .my arm achs with beating that plaguy beast; I'll be hang'd if I won'na rather ha' thrash'd half a day, than ha' ridden her.

Luc. Well, Hodge, you have done your business very well.

Hodge. Well, have not I now?

Luc. Yes—Mr. Eustace tells me in this letter, that he will be in the green lane, at the other end of the village, by twelve o'clock—You know where he came before. 38.1 Hodge. Ay, ay.

Luc. Well, you must go there; and wait till he arrives, and watch your opportunity to introduce him, across the fields, into the little summer-house, on the left side of the garden.

Hodge. That's enough.

Luc. But take particular care that nobody sees you. Hodge. I warrant you.

Luc. Nor for your life, drop a word of it to any mortal. 390 Hodge. Never fear me. Luc. And Hodge

AIR.

Hodge. Well, well, say no more;

Sure you told me before;
I see the full length of my leather;

Do you thinh I'm a fool,

That I need go to school?
1 can spell you and put you together.

A word to the wise,

Will always suffice; 400 Addsniggers go talh to your parrot;

I'm not such an elft,

Though I say it myself,
But I hnow a sheep's head from a carrot.

c

SCENE VIII.

LuCINDA.

How severe is my case! Here I am obliged to carry on a clandestine correspondence with a maii in all respeccts my equal,because the oddity of my father's temper is such, that I dare not tell him I have ever yet seen the person I should like to marry—But perhaps he has quality in his eye, and hopes, one day or other, as I am his only child, to match me with a title—vain imagination!

AIR.

Cupid, God of soft persuasion,

Tahe the helpless lover's part:
Seize, oh seize some hind occasion,

To reward a faithful heart.

Justly those we tyrants call,

Who the body would enthral;

Tyrants of more cruel hind,

Those, who would enslave the mind. 420

What is grandeur ? foe to rest,
Childish mummery at best.
Happy I in humble state;
Catch, ye fools, the glittering bait.

SCENE IX.

A field with a stile. Enter Hodge, followed by MarGery; and, some time after, enter Young MeaDows.

Hodge. What does the wench follow me for? Odds flesh, folk may well talk, to see you dangling after me every where, like a tantony pig: find some other road, can't you; and don't keep wherreting me with your nonsense.

Mar. Nay, pray you, Hodge, stay, and let me speak to you a bit. - 431

Hodge. Well; what sayn you?

Mar. Dear heart, how can you be so barbarous i and is this the way you serve me after all ; and won't you keep your word, Hodge?

Hodge. Why no I won't, I tell you; I have chang'd my mind.

Mar. Nay but surely, surely—Consider Hodge, you are obligated in conscience to make me an honest woman. 440

Hodge. Obligated in conscience! How am I obligated f

Mar. Because you are; and none but the basest of rogues would bring a poor girl to shame, and afterterwards leave her to the wide world.

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