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The greatness that would make us grave

Is but an empty thing;

What more than mirth would mortals have? 330
The chearful man's a king.

SCENE VII.

LUCINDA, HODGE.

Luc. Hist, hist, Hodge!

Hodge. Who calls? 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 fa

vour.

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.

Luc. Oh, then you have been?

Hodge. Yes, yes, I ha' been.

353

Luc. Psha! 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 pockets] 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.

380

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.

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 teather;
Do you think I'm a fool,

That I need go to school?

I can spell you and put you together.

A word to the wise,

Will always suffice;

Addsniggers go talk to your parrot;

I'm not such an elfe,

Though I say it myself,

But I know a sheep's head from a carrot.

39°

400

C

SCENE VIII.

LUCINDA.

How severe is my case! Here I am obliged to carry on a clandestine correspondence with a man in all respects my equal, because the oddity of my father'stem

per 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,
Take the helpless lover's part:
Seize, oh seize some kind occasion,
To reward a faithful heart.

Justly those we tyrants call,
Who the body would enthral;
Tyrants of more cruel kind,

Those, who would enslave the mind.

What is grandeur ? foe to rest,

Childish mummery at best.

Happy I in humble state ;

Catch, ye fools, the glittering bait.

420

SCENE IX.

A field with a stile. Enter HODGE, followed by MARGERY; and, some time after, enter YOUNG MEA

DOWS.

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.

Hodge. Well; what sayn you?

431

Mar. Dear heart, how can you be so barbarous ? 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 440

woman.

Hodge. Obligated in conscience! How am I obligated?

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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