Dramatis Perſonae. * M. E. N. Sir William Meadows, Mr. Bennet. Young Meadows, Mr. Mattocks. Juſtice Woodcock, Mr. Shuter. |Hawthorn, Mr. Beard. Euſtace, Mr. Dyer. Hodge, Mr. Dunſtall. W O M E. N. IRoſſetta, - Mrs. Pinto. Lucinda, - Mrs. Mattocks. Mrs. Deborah Woodcock, Mrs. Walker. Margery, - Mrs. Baker. Country Men and Women, Servants, &c. S C E N E A V I L L A G E. T o - - - t MR. B. E. A. R. D. . . . . - - - - . . . . . . . . - -, S I R, . . . - T is with great pleaſure I embrace this oppor- tunity to acknowledge the favours I have re- ceived from you. Among others, I would men- tion, in particular, the warmth with which you eſpouſed this piece in its paſſage to the ſtage; but I am afraid it would be thought a compli- ment to your good nature, too much at the ex- pence of your judgment. If what I now venture to lay before the public is conſidered merely as a piece of dramatic writ- ing, it will certainly be found to have very little merit: in that light no one can think more indif- ferently of it than I do myſelf; but I believe I may venture to aſſert, on your opinion, that ſome of the ſongs are tolerable; that the muſic is more pleaſing than has hitherto appeared in com- poſitions of this kind; and the words better adapted, conſidering the nature of the airs, which are not common ballads, than could be expečted, ſuppoſing any degree of poetry to be preſerved in the verſification. A 3 More ii - D E D I C A T I O N. More than this few people expećt in an Opera; and if ſome of the ſeverer critics ſhould be in- clined to blame your indulgence to one of the firſt attempts of a young writer, I am perſuaded the public in general will applaud your endea- vour to provide them with ſomething new, in a ſpecies of entertainment in which the performers at your theatre ſo eminently excel. - - - You may perceive, Sir, that I yield a punétual obſervance to the injunétions you laid upon me, when I threatened you with this addreſs, and make it rather a preface than a dedication; and yet I muſt confeſs I can hardly reconcile thoſe forma- lities which render it indelicate to pay praiſes where all the world allows them to be due ; nor can I eaſily conceive why a man ſhould be ſo ſtu- dious to deſerve what he does not deſire :- but fifice you will not allow me to offer any panegyric to you, I muſt haſten to beſtow one upon myſelf, and let the public know (which was my chief deſign in this introdućtion) that I have the hap. -- pineſs to be, - - - * . . * . - - S I R, “ ” . . . . - - - ; : > c. Your moſt obliged, & . and moſt obedient ſervant, The A U T H o R. *- —lº Love in avillage. A C T I. S C E N E I. A garden with ſtatues, fountains, and flower-pots. Several arbours appear in the ſide-ſcenes : Ros- sETTA and LU c1 NDA are diſcovered at work, ſeated upon two garden chairs. A I R. I. Roſſetta. A/OPE I thou nurſe of young deſire, Fairy promiſer of joy; Painted vapour, glow-worm fire, Temp'rate ſweet, that ne'er can cloy, Lucinda. Hope 1 thou earneſt of delight, Softeft ſoother of the mind; Balmy cordial, proſpeč bright, Sureſ friend the wretched find. Both. Kind deceiver, flatter ſtill, Deal out pleaſures unpoſſeſ? : With thy dreams my fancy fill, And in wiſhes make me blºff, Lucin. Heigho——Raſſetta ? Roſſ. Well, child, what do you ſay? Lucin. 'Tis a deviliſh thing to live in a village an hundred miles from the capital, with a prepoſterous gouty father, and a ſuperannuated miden aunt,<-—I am heartily ſick of my ſituation. A 4 Roſſ, - 8 - L O V E I M A v I L L A G E : **** - - Rºff. And with reaſon.—But 'tis in a great meaſure your own fault: Here is this Mr. Eu/aca, a man of charaćter and family; he likes you, you like him; you know one another's minds, and yet you will not re- ſolve to make yourſelf happy with him, A I R II. Hºhence can you inherit - - So ſlaviſh a ſpirit 2 - Confin'd thus, and chain'd to a lºg / rºº Now fondl’d, now chid, . . . - - Permitted, forbid: 'Tis leading the life of a dog. For ſhame, you a lover ! . Mare firmineſs diſcover; - Take courage, nor here longer mope ; Reft and be free, - Run riot like me, . . . . . . And to perfect the pičiure clope. - Lucin. And this is your advice Roſſ. Poſitively. Lucin. Here's my hand; poſitively I’ll follow it.—I have already ſent to my gentleman, who is now in the country, to let him know he may come hither this day; we will make uſe of the opportunity to ſettle all pre- liminaries——And then——But take notice, when- ever we decamp, you march off along with us. . ." Roſſ. Oh I madam, your ſervant; I have no inclina- tion to be left behind, I aſſure you—But you ſay you got acquainted with this ſpark, while you were with your mother during her laſt illneſs at Bath, ſo that your father has never ſeen him. Lucin. 10 L O V E IN A TV IL LA G E: Lucin. Well, but my dear mad girl . . . . Raff. Lucinda, don't talk to me—Was your father to go to London, meet there by accident with an old fellow as wrong-headed as himſelf; and in a fit of ab- furd friendſhip agree to marry you to that old fellow's ſon, whom you had never ſeen, without conſulting your inclinations, or allowing you a negative, in caſe he ſhould not prove agreeable— Lucin. Why, I ſhould think it a little hard, I con- feſs—yet when I ſee you in the charaćter of a cham- bermaid - . . . . . . . . . Roſſ. It is the only charaćter, my dear, in which I could hope to lie concealed; and I can tell you, I was reduced to the laſt extremity, when, in conſequence of our old boarding-ſchool friendſhip, I applied to you to receive me in this capacity: for we expe&ted the parties the very next week—— Lucin. But had not you a meſſage from your intended ſpouſe, to let you know he was as little inclined to ſuch ill-concerted nuptials as you were Roſſ. More than ſo ; he wrote to adviſe me, by all means, to contrive ſome method of breaking them off, for he had rather return to his dear ſtudies at Oxford; and after that, what hopes could I have of being happy with him * - - - Lucin. Then you are not at all uneaſy at the ſtrange rout you muſt have occaſioned at home 2 I warrant, during this month that you have been abſent—— Roff. Oh I don’t mention it, my dear; I have had ſo many admirers ſince I commenced abigail, that I am quite charmed with my ſituation—But hold, who ſtalks yonder into the yard, that the dogs are ſo glad to ſee? - Lucin. A co M I C O P E R A. 15 A I R VII. Still in hopes to get the better Of my ſlubborn flame I try, Swear this moment to forget her, And the next my oath deny. Now prepar’d with ſcorn to treat her, £v'ry charm in thought I brave; Boaſt my freedom, to fly meet her, And confeſs myſelf a ſlave. - S C E N E v. A hall in Juſtice WooD cock’s houſe. Enter HAw- Thor N with a fowling piece in his hand, and a net with birds at his girdle: and afterwards Juſtice WooD cock. A I R VII. There was a jolly miller once, £iv'd on the river Dee ; He work'd, and ſung, from morn till night, No lark more blythe than he. And this the burthen of his ſong, - For ever us’d to be, I care for nobody, not I, If no one cares for me. Houſe here, houſe; what all gadding, all abroad; houſe I ſay, hilli ho hoſ j. Woodcock. Here’s a noiſe, here's a racket ! William, &obert, Hodge why does not ſomebody anſwer? Odds my 18 L O V E IN A V IL.L. A G E : j. Iſoodcock. No, no, 'tis a very fooliſh piece of buſineſs; good for nothing but to promote idleneſs and the getting of baſtards : but I ſhall take meaſures for preventing it another year, and I doubt whether I am not ſufficiently authorized already: For by an ad paſſed Anno undecimo Caroli primi, which impowers a juſtice of peace, who is lord of the manor— º Hawth. Come, come, never mind the aët, let me tell you this is a very proper, a very uſeful meeting; I want a ſervant or two myſelf, I muſt go ſee what your market affords;—and you ſhall go, and the girls, my little Lucy and the other young rogue, and we'll make a day on't as well as the reſt. - j. Woodcock. I wiſh, maſter Hawthorn, I cou’d teach you to be a little more ſedate: why won't you take pattern by me, and conſider your dignity ?—Odds heart, I don’t wonder you are not a rich man, you laugh too much ever to be rich. Hawth. Right, neighbour Woodcock / health, good humour, and competence is my motto: and if my ex- ecutors have a mind, they are welcome to make it my epitaph. - A I R X. The honeſ heart, whoſe thoughts are clear From fraud, diſguiſe, and guile, Need neither fortune's frowning fear, Nor court the harlot's ſmile. The greatneſs that would make us grave I; but an empty thing ; What more than mirth would mortals have * The chearful man's a king. S C E N E. W A c O M I C O PER A. - 21 A I R XI. Hodge, Well, well, ſay no more, Sure you told me before ; I ſee the full length of my tether; Do you think I'm a fool, That I need go to ſchool P 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 elf, • * Though I ſay it myſelf, - But I know a ſheep's headfrom a carrot. S. C. E. N E VIII. L U C IN D A. . How ſevere is my caſe ? here am I obliged to carry on a clandeſtine correſpondence with a man in all re- ſpects my equal, becauſe the oddity of my father's tem- 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 B 3 A I R - . A C C M I C O P E R A. 25 S C E N E. x. A green with the proſpect of a village, and the re- preſentation of a ſtatute or fair. Enter Juſtice WooD cock, HAw THoRN, Mrs. DE Bor AH WooD cock, Luc INDA, Rose TT A, Young ME A Dows, Hod GE, and ſeveral country people. Hodge. This way, your worſhip, this way. Why don't you ſtand aſide there Here's his worſhip a coming. - - Countryman. His worſhip ! - j. Wºodcock, Fye, fye, what a crowd's this Odd, I’ll put ſome of them in the ſtocks. [Striking a fellow.] Stand out of the way, firrah. Hawth. For ſhame, neighbour. Well, my lad, are you willing to ſerve the king : - - Countryman. Why, can you liſt ma Serve the king, maſter no, no, I pay the king, that's enough for me. Ho, ho, hol - Hawth. Well ſaid, ſturdy-boots. . j. Woodcock. Nay, if you talk to them, they'll anſwer you. - Hawth. I would have them do ſo, I like they ſhould. —Well, Madam, is not this a fine fight? I did not know my neighbour's eſtate had been ſo well peopled.—Are all theſe his own tenants Mrs. Deb. More than are good of them, Mr. Haw- thorn. I don't like to ſee ſuch a parcel of young huſſeys fleering with the fellows. Hawth. 30 L O V E IN A V I L L A G E. Euff. Well, I ſee you have a mind to divertyourſelf with me ; but I wiſh I could prevail on you to be a little ſerious. Lucin. Seriouſly then, what would you deſire me to ſay I have promiſed to run away with you ; which is as great a conceſſion as any reaſonable lover can expect from his miſtreſs. Euſt. Yes; but, you dear provoking angel, you have not told me when you will run away with me. Lutin. Why that, I confeſs, requires ſome conſide- ration. Euff. Yet remember, while you are deliberating, the ſeaſon, now ſo favourable to us, may elapſe, never to return, A I R X. Think, my faireſ, how delay Danger every moment brings; Time flies fwift, and will away; Time that's ever on it's wing: Doubting and ſuſpence at beft, Lovers late repentance cºſt, Let us, eager to be blºft, Seize occaſion e'er 'tis lºſt. S C E N E 32 L O V E IN A V I L f, A G E. Mrs. Deb. Why the man your daughter has an in- trigue with ; but I hepe you will not believe it now, though you ſee it with your own eyes.—Come, huſſey, confeſs, and don't let your father make a fool of himſelf any longer. - : - - - - - Lucin. Confeſs what, aunt: This gentleman is a muſic-maſter; he goes about the country teaching ladies to play and ſing; and has been recommended to inſtruct me; I could not turn him out when he came to offer his ſervice, and did not know what anſwer to give him till I ſaw my papa. - - - j. Woodcock. A muſic-maſter Euff. Yes, Sir, that's my profeſſion. Mrs. Deb. It's a lye, young man; it's a lye. Brother heisnomore a muſick-maſter, than Iama muſic-maſter. 3. Woodcock. What then you know better than the fellow himſelf, do you?' and you will be wiſer than all. the world . . . . . Mrs. Del. Brother, he does not look like a muſic- maſter. . . . . j. Wºodcock, He does not look ha, ha, ha! Was eyer ſuch a poor ſtupe ! Well, and what does he look like then But I ſuppoſe you mean, he is not dreſſed like a - muſic-maſter, becauſe of his ruffles, and this bit of gar- niſhing about his coat, which ſeems to be copper too —Why, you filly wretch, theſe whipperſnappers ſet up for gentlemen, now a-days, and give themſelves as ma- nyairsasif they were peopleofduality.--Hark you friend, I ſuppoſe you don't come within the vagrant act : you' have ſome ſettled habitation —Where do you live? * - --- " - - - Mrs. * A C O M I C O P E R A. 33 Mrs. Deb. It's an eaſy matter for him to tell you a - wrong place. - - - - - j. Woodcock. Siſter Deborah don't provoke me. Mrs. Deb. I wiſh, brother, you would let me exa- mine him a little. - - - j. Woodcock. You ſhan't ſay a word to him, you ſhan’t ſay a word to him. Mrs. Deb. She ſays he was recommended here, bro- ther; aſk him by whom * j. Woodcock. No, I wont now becauſe you deſire it. Lucin. If my papa did aſk the queſtion, aunt, it would be very eaſily reſolved. Mrs. Deb. Who bid you ſpeak, Mrs. Nimble Chops * I ſuppoſe the man has a tongue in his head, to anſwer for himſelf. - - - 7. Woodcock. Will nobody ſtop that prating old wo- man's mouth for me Get out of the room. Mrs. Deb. Well, ſo I can, brother; I dont want to ſtay; but remember, I tell you, you will make yourſelf ridiculous in this affair; for through your own obſti- nacy you will have your daughter run away with before your face. j, Žoodcock. My daughter who will run away with my daughter? Mrs. Deb. That fellow will. j. Woodcock. Go, go, you are a wicked cenſorious woman. * Lucin. Why, ſure madam you muſt think me very coming indeed. - j. Woodcock, Ay, ſhe judges of others by herſelf; I remember when ſhe was a girl, her mother dare not C truſt 34. L O V E I. N A V IL. L. A. G. E. truſt her the length of her aprong ſtring; ſhe was clam- bering upon every fellow's back. Mrs. Deb, I was not. j. Woodcock. You were. Lucin, Well, but why ſo violent : A 1 R xvii. Believe me, dear aunt, If you rave thus, and rant, You'll never a lover perſuade; The men will all fly, And leave you to die, -- . . . Oh, ferrible chance / an old maid- How happy the leſs, 3. Muſt ſhe come to this paſs, Who antient virginity ſtapes : ’7 were better on earth. Have five brats at a birth Then in hell be a leader of apes. S C E N E III. Juſtice WooD cock, LU c1 NDA, EU's T Act. j. Woodcock. Well done, Lucy, ſend her about her buſineſs, a troubleſome, fooliſh creature, does ſhe thirſk I want to be direéted by her—Come hither, my lad, you look tolerable honeſt— - Euff. I hope, ſir, I ſhall never give you cauſe to alter your opinion. - j. Woodcock. No, no, I am not eaſily deceived, I am generally pretty right in my conjećtures 5–You muſt know A c O M I C O P E R A. 37 ceremony at all Can you afford me no token to keep up my ſpirits till I ſee you again. - Lucin. Ah childiſh Euft. My angel A I R XIX. Euſt. Let rakes and libertines reſign'd To ſenſual pleaſures, - range 1 Here all the few’s charms I find, *- And ne'er can cool or change. Tacin. Le vain coquets, and prudes contral, What moſt their hearts deſire ; I/ith pride my paſſion I reveal, ". Oh! may it ne'er expire. Both. The ſun ſhall ceaſe to ſpread its light, The ſtars their orbits leave; And fair creation ſink in night, When I my dear deceive. S C E N E V. A Garden. - - - - - Enter Ross E T TA, muſing. Roſſ. If ever poor creature was in a pitiable conditi- on, ſurely I am. The devil take this fellow, I cannot get him out my of head, and yet I would fain perſuade myſelf I don't care for him : well, but ſurely I am not in love : let me examine my heart a little: I ſaw him kiffing one of the maids the other day; I could have boxed his ears for it, and have done nothing but find fault and quarrel with the girl ever ſince. Why was I - C 3 uneaſy #6 L OV E IN A W I L L A G E. A I R XXV. Oons / neighbour, ne'er bluſh for a trifle like this ; What harm with a fair one to toy and to kiſ; P The greateſ and graveſ?—a trace with grimate— Would do the ſame thing, were they in the ſame place. No age, no profeſſion, no ſtation is free ; To ſovereign beauty mankind bend; the knee : That power, reſtleſ, no ſtrength can oppoſe : IWe all love a pretty girl under the roſe. -- - - - j. Wºodcock. I profeſs, maſter Hawthorn, this is alſ Indian, all Cherokee language to me; I don't under- ſtand a word of it. Hawth. 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. j. Woodcock. Aictter, and to me ! (taking the letter) Yes, it is to me; and yet I am ſure it comes from no correſpondent, that I know of. Where are my ſpecta- cies not but I can ſee very well without them, maſter Hawthorn; but this ſeems to be a ſort of a crabbed hand. - S I R, I am aſhamed of giving you this trouble; but I am in- formed there is an unthinking boy, a ſon of mine, now diſguiſed, and in your ſervice, in the capacity of a gar- demer: Tom is a little wild, but an honeſ' lad, and no- fºol either, tho’ I am his father that ſºy it. Tom—oh, this is Thomas, our gardener; I always thought that he was a better man's child than be appear'd to be, though I never mentioned it. Hawth. - 48 L OVE IN A v I L L A G E. j. Wºodcock. No doubt of it, maſter Hawthorn, no doubt of it—I warrant we ſhall find, now, that this young raſcal has fallen in love with ſome minx, againſt his father's conſent—Why, Sir, if I had as many children as king Priam had, that we read of at ſchool in the deſtruction of Troy, not one of them would ſerve me ſo. - - --. Hawth. Well, well, neighbour, perhaps not ; but we ſhould remember when we were young ourſelves ; and I was as likely to play an old don ſuch a trick in my day, as eer a ſpark in the hundred ; nay, between you and me, I had done it once, had the wench been as willing as I. - , - . A I R XXVI. My Dolly was the faireſ; thing ! Her breath diſclos'd the ſweet's ºf ſpring ; And if far ſummer you wou'd ſeek : 'Twas painted in her eye, her cheek : Her fuelling boſom, tempting ripe, Of fruitful autumn was the type : But, when my tender tale I told, I found her heart was winter cold. 5. Woodcock. Ah, you were always a ſcape-grace rattle cap. - - Hawth. Odds heart, neighbour Woodcock, don't tell me, young fellows will be young fellows, though we preach till we're hoarſe again ; and ſo there's an end on't. - * , S C E N E A C C M I C C P E R A. 49 S C E N E Y. Juſtice Wood cock's hall. Ho D G E, M A R G E R Y. Hodge. So, miſtreſs, who let you in f Marg. Why, I let myſelf in. Hodge. Indeed Marry come up ! why, then pray let yourſelf out again. Times are come to a pretty paſs; I think you might have had the manners to knock at the door firſt What does the wench ſtand for 2 Marg. I want to know if his worſhip's at home. Hodge. Well, what's your buſineſs with his worſhip 2 Marg. Perhaps you will hear that Look ye, Hodge, it does not ſignify talking, I am come, once for all, to know what you intends to do; for I won't be made a fool of any longer. Hodge. You won't - Marg. No, that's what I won't, by the beſt man that ever wore a head; I am the make-game of the whole village upon your account ; and I’ll try whether your maſter gives you toleration in your doings. Hodge. You will Marg. Yes, that's what I will; his worſhip ſhall be acquainted with all your pranks, and ſee how you will like to be ſent for a ſoldier. Hodge. There's the door; take a friend’s advice, and go about your buſineſs. Marg. My buſineſs is with his worſhip ; and I won't go till I ſees him. Hodge. Look you, Madge, if you make any of your orations here, never ſtir if I don't ſet the dogs at you —Will you be gone : • , D AZarg 56 L O V E IN A V I L L A G E : A I R XXXI. h’ell come, let us hear, what the ſwain muſt poſſ, Who may hope at your feet to implore with ſucceſ; 8 Roſſ. He muſt be, firſt of all, Straight, comely, and tall; Lucin. Neither aukward, Roſſ. Nor fºoliſh; Lucin. Nor apiſh, Roſſ. Nor muliſh ; ** } Nor yet ſhould his fortune be ſmall. Hawth. What thinkſ of a captain à Lucin, All bluffer and wounds / Hawth. What thinkſ of a 'ſquire? Roſſ. , To be left for his hounds. The youth that is form'd to my mind, Lucin. Muff be gentle, obliging, and kind; - Of all things in nature love me: Roſſ. Have ſenſe both to ſpeak and to ſee— 1ſt ſometimes be filent and blind. Hawth. , 'Fore George a moſt rare matrimonial receipt, Roff. Obſerve it, ye fair, in the choice of a mate ; Lucin. J Remember, 'tis wedlock determines yourfate. E N p o F T H E S E co N D A c T. A C T A C O M I C O P E R A. 61 Roſſ. Pretty near it. . . . . Hawth. Oons then what do we ſtay for : Come, my old friend, come along, and by the way we will conſult how to manage your interview. - Sir Will. Ay, but I muſt ſpeak a word or two to my man about the horſes firſt. S C E N E III. Ross E t t A, Hop G e. Roſſ. Well—What's the buſineſs : - Hodge. Madam—Mercy on us, I crave pardon 1 Roff. Why Hodge, don't you know me ! Hodge. Mrs. Roſetta 1 Roſſ. Ay. Hodge. Know you, ecod I don’t know whether I do or not : never ſtir, if I did not think it was ſome lady belonging to the ſtrange gentlefolks: why you ben't dizen'd this way to go to the ſtatute dance preſently, be you ? Roſſ. Have patience and you’ll ſee:—But is there any thing amiſs that you came in ſo abruptly Hodge. Amiſs why there's ruination. Roſſ. How, where : Hodge. Why with miſs Lucinda: her aunt has catch'd ſhe and the gentleman above ſtairs, and over-heard all their love diſcourſe. Roſſ. You don't ſay ſo Hodge. Ecod, I had like to have pop'd in among them this inſtant; but, by good luck, I heard Mrs. Deborah’s voice, and run down again, as faſt as ever my legs could carry me. Roſſ Is your maſter in the houſe - - Hºdge. 61 L O V E IN A V IL LA G E : Hodge. What his worſhip no, no, he is gone inta. the fields to talk with the reapers and people. - Roſs, Poor Lucinda, I wiſh I could go up to her, but I am ſo engaged with my own affairs— - Hodge. Mrs. Roſetta. - Roſs. Well. - Hodge. Odds bobs, I muſt have one ſmack of your ſweet lips. Roſs, Oh ſtand off, you know I never allow liberties. Hodge. Nay, but why ſo coy, there's reaſon in roaſt- ing of eggs; I would not deny you ſuch a thing. Roſſ. That's kind, ha, ha, ha—But what will be- come of Lucinda? Sir William waits for me, I muſt be- gone. Friendſhip a moment by your leave; yet, as our ſufferings have been mutual, ſo ſhall our joys; I already loſe the remembrance of all former pains and anxieties. - A I R - XXXIV. The traveller benighted, And led thro' weary ways, The lamp of day new lighted, With joy the dawn ſurveys. The riſing proſpects viewing, Each look is forward caff; He ſmiles his courſe purſuing, Nor thinks of what is paſſ. S C E N E 64 L O V E IN A V I L L A G E : your father ſays I am a fool! but now we'll be judged who is the greateſt. And you, Mr. Raſcal, my bro- ther ſhall know what an honeſt ſervant he has got. Hodge. Madam | - Mrs. Deb. You were to have been aiding and aſſiſt- ing them in their eſcape, and have been the go-between it ſeems, the letter carrier | - - - Hodge. Who, me madam | Mrs. Deb. Yes, you firrah - Hodge. Miſs Lucinda, did I ever carry a letter for you ? I'll make my affidavy before his worſhip Mrs. Deb. Go, go, you are a villain, hold your tongue. Lucin. I own aunt I have been very faulty in this affair; I don't pretend to excuſe myſelf; but we are all ſubjećt to frailties; conſider that, and judge of me by yourſelf, who were once young, and inexperienced as I am. A I R XXXV. If ever a fond inclination, Roſe in your boſom to rob you of reſt; Refteå with a little compaſſion, On the ſoft pangs, which prevail'd in my breaſ?. Oh where, where would you fly me? Can you deny me thus torn and diſtreſ?? Think, when my lover was by me, Would I, how cou’d I, refuſe his requeſ # Kneeling before you, let me implore you ; Look on me ſighing, crying, dying ; Ah! is there no language can move 2 If I have been to complying, Hard was the conflić 'twixt duty and love. Mrs. 66. L OVE IN A V IL. L. A. G E : S C E N E V. Ho D G. e. Well, I thought it would come to this, I’ll be ſhot if I did’nt—So here's a fine jobb—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 H 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 purchaſe— indeed, I ſhall be ſorry to leave Mrs. Roſetta, ſeeing as how matters are ſo near being brought to an end be- twixt us ; but ſhe and I may keep company all as one; and I finds Madge has been ſpeaking with Gaffºr 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 wea- riſome life—But that's the way of them all. A 1 R xXXVI. A plague of thoſe wenches, they make ſuch a pother, - I/hen 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 thof he ſpeaks them ne'er ſo fairly Still they keep teazing teazing on : * 2%u cannot perſuade 'em ; 'Till promiſe you've made 'em : And after they have got it, They tell you add rot it, ... Their charaćier's blaſted, they're ruin'd, undone;. And then, to be ſure, Sir, There is but one cure, Sir, And all the diſſourſe is of marriage. - A C O M I C C P E R A. 67 S C E N E VI, - A Greenhouſe. Enter 1%ung M E A D ow g. Y. Meadows. I am glad I had the precaution to bring this ſuit of cloaths in my bundle, though I 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 poſt-chaiſe, and depart with- out any farther ceremony. - - A I R XXXVII. How much ſuperior beauty awes, The coldeſt boſoms find; But with reſtleſ force it draws, To ſenſe and ſweetneſs join'd. The caſket, where, to outward ſhew, The workman's art is ſeen, 1s doubly valu'd, when we know It holds a gem within. Hark! ſhe comes. sc E N E VII. r Anter Sir WILLIAM Me A Dows and HAw T HoRN. 1. Meadows. Confuſion I 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 E 2 do A COM I C O PER A. - 71 Sir Will. Well, but Tom, ſuppoſe I give my conſen to your marrying this young woman f Y. Meadows. Your conſent, Sir Roſſ. Come, Sir William, we have carried the jeſt far enough ; I ſee your ſon is in a kind of embarraſſment, and I don’t wonder at it; but this letter, which I re- ceived from him a few days before I left my father's houſe, will, I apprehend, expound the riddle. He can- not be ſurprized that I ran away from agentleman who expreſſed ſo much diſlike tome; and what has happened ſince chance brought us together in maſquerade, there is no occaſion for me to inform him of. - 1. Meadows. What is all this Pray don't make a jeſt of me. Sir Will. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, if it is not truth; this is my friend's daughter. - 2. Meadows. Sir Rºff. Even ſo ; ’tis very true indeed. In ſhort, you have not been a more whimſical gentleman than I have a gentlewoman; but you ſee we are deſigned for one another ’tis plain. 2. Meadows. I know not, madam, what I either hear or ſee ; a thouſand things are crowding on my imagi- nation; while, like one juſt awakened from a dream, I doubt which is reality, which deluſion. Sir Will. Well then, Tom, come into the air a bit, and recover yourſelf. -- 1. Meadows. Nay, dear Sir, have a little patience; do you give her to me? - ». Sir. Will. Give her to you ! ay, that I do, and my bleſfing into the bargain. E 4 1. Mead. Roc/£7% a E *s