loved woman; and that when I relinquish you, Egive cup all that can make my life supportable.

AIR.

Oh! how shall I, in language weak,

My ardent passion tell;

Or form my falt'ring tongue to speak,

That cruel word, Farewel?!
Farewel-but know, tho' thus we part,

My thoughts can never stray:

Go where I will, my constant heart
Must with my charmer stay.

M *

370

SCENE VII.

ROSSETTA, JUSTICE WOODCOCK.

Ros. What can this be that he wants to tell me? I have a strange curiosity to hear it, methinks-wellJ. 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, Sira J. Wood. Well, but come here: come here, I say. [Looking about.] How do you do, Rossetta

Ros, Thank you, sir, pretty well ****

J. Wood. Why you look as fresh and bloomy today-Adad, you little slut, I believe you are painted. Ros. O sir 1 you are pleased to compliment. 392 J. Wood. Adad, I believe you are-let me tryRos. Lord, sir!

J. Wood. What brings you into this garden so often, Rossetta? I hope you don't get eating green fruit and trash; or have you a hankering after some lover in dowlas, who spoils my trees by engraving true-lovers knots on them, with your horn and buck-handled knives? I see your name written upon the ceiling of the servants hall, with the smoak 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 flanting, idle, young fellows; so they are: and they are so damn'd 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.

410

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 three-score with a hale constitution.

Ros. Then, Sir, he should be troubled with the gout, have a good strong, substantial, winter cough-and

E

I should not like him the worse-if he had a small touch of the rheumatism.

J. Wood. Pho, pho, Rossetta, this is jesting.

420

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?

7. Wood, Ah! you know, you know, well enough, hussy.

Ros. Dear sir, consider "my soul; would you have " me endanger my soul?

J. Wood. "No, no-Repent.

Ros. Besides, 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

Ros. And a magistrate, sir!

J. Wood, Right; it's quite a different thing— Well, shall we, Rossetta, shall we ?^e

Ros. Really, Sir, I don't know what to say to it,

J. Wood Why, you silly girl, I won't do you any

harm.

Ros. Won't you, Sir?

J. Wood. Not I.

Ros. But won't you indeed, Sir?

J. Wood. Why I tell you I won't.

Ros. Ha, ha, ha!

J. Wood. Hussy, Hussy!

A

Ros. Ha, ha, ha!-Your servant, Sir, your sĕr

vant.

J. Wood. Why, you impudent, audacious

460

SCENE VIII.

JUSTICE WOODCOCK, HAWTHORN!

Haw. So, so, justice at odds with gravity! his wor ship playing at romps -Your servant, sir. J. Wood. Haw: 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.

471

Haw. No, no, I am no judge of it; besides, I want to talk to you a little more about thisTell me, Sir Justice, were 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?

479

AIR.

Oons! neighbour, ne'er blush for a trifle like this;
What harm with a fair one to toy and to kiss?
The greatest and gravest—a truce with grimace
Would do the same thing, were they in the same place.

No age, no profession, no station is free;
To sovereign beauty mankind bends the knee:
That power, resistless, no strength can oppose,
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 under-1 stand a word of it. 1 490

· Haw. No, may be not: well, Sir, will you read this letter, and try whether you can understand that? it is just brought by a servant, who stays for an

answer...