Mrs. Deb. You were to have been aiding and assisting them in their escape, and have been the gobetween, it seems, the letter-carrier I

Hodge. Who, me, madam!

Mrs. Deb. Yes, you, sirrah.

202

Hodge Miss Lucinda, did I ever carry a letter for you? I'll make my affidavy before his worshipMrs. Deb. Go, go, you are a villain, hold your tongue.

Luc. I own, aunt, I have been very faulty in this affair; I don't pretend to excuse myself; but we are all subject to frailties; consider that, and judge of me by yourself; you were once young, and inexperienced as I am.

AIR.

If ever a fond inclination

Rose in your bosom to rob you of rest,
Reflect with a little compassion,

On the soft pangs, which prevail'd in my breast.

Oh where, where would you fly me?

Can you deny me thus torn and distrest?
Think, when my lover was by me,

Wou'd 1, how cou'd I, refuse his request?
Kneeling before you, let me implore you;

Look on me sighing, crying, dying;
Ah! is there no language can move ?
If I have been too complying,

Hard was the conflict 'twixt duty and love.

G

220

Mrs. Deb. This is mighty pretty romantic stuff! but you learn it out of your play-books and novels. Girls in my time had other employments, we worked at our needles, and kept ourselves from idle thoughts : before I was your age, I had finished with my own fingers a complete set of chairs, and a fire-screen in tent stitch; four counterpanes in Marseilles quilting; and the creed and the ten commandments, in the hair of our family: it was fram'd and glaz'd, and hung over the parlour chimney-piece, and your poor dear grandfather was prouder of it than of e'er a picture in his house. I never looked into a book, but when I said my prayers, except it was the Complete Housewife, or the great family receipt-book: whereas you are always at your studies! Ah, I never knew a woman come to good, that was fond of reading.

Luc. Well, pray, madam, let me prevail on you to give me the key to let Mr. Eustace out, and I promise, I never will proceed a step farther in this business, without your advice and approbation.

Mrs. Deb. Have not I told you already my resolution? Where are my clogs and my bonnet? I'll go out to my brother in the fields; I'm a fool, you know, child, now let's see what the wits will think of themselves-Don't hold me1251

Luc. I'm not going;-I have thought of a way to be even with you, so you may do as you please.

SCENE V.

HODGE.

Well, I thought it would come to this, I'll be shot if I didn't-So here's a fine job-But what can they do to me-They can't send me to jail for carrying a letter, seeing there was no treason in it; and how was I obligated to know my master did not allow of their meetings:-The worst they can do, is to turn me off, and I am sure the place is no such great purchaseindeed, I should be sorry to leave Mrs. Rossetta, seeing as how matters are so near being brought to an end betwixt us; but she and I may keep company alľ as one; and I find Madge has been speaking with Gaffer Broadwheels, the waggoner, about her carriage up to London; so that I have got rid of she, and I am sure I have reason to be main glad of it, for she led me a wearisome life-But that's the way of them all.i

A plague on those wenches, they make such a pother,
17 When once they have let'n a man have his will;
They're always a whining for something or other,
And cry he's unkind in his carriage.

What tho'f he speaks them ne'er so fairly,
Still they keep teazing, teazing on:

262

Y. Mea. I am glad I had the precaution to bring this suit of clothes in my bundle, though 1 hardly know myself in them again, they appear so strange, and feel so unweildy. However, my gardener's jacket goes on no more.-I wonder this girl does not come [looking at his watch]: perhaps she won't come

-Why then I'll go into the village, take a postchaise and depart without any farther ceremony.

AIR.

How much superior beauty awes,

The coldest bosoms find;

But with resistless force it draws,

To sense and sweetness join'd.

Y. Mea. Confusion! my father! What can this

mean?

Sir Will. Tom, are not you a sad boy, Tom, to bring me a hundred and forty miles here-May I never do an ill turn, but you deserve to have your head broke; and I have a good mind, partly-What, sirrah, don't you think it worth your while to speak to 301

me?

Y. Mea. Forgive me, Sir; I own I have been in a fault.

Sir Will. In a fault! to run away from me because I was going to do you good-May I never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if I did not pick out as fine a girl for him, partly, as any in England? and the rascal run away from me, and came here and turn'd gardener. And pray what did you propose to your self, Tom? I know you were always fond of Botany,