Sir Wil. Tom, are not you a sad boy, Tom, to, had not seen you: but I'll let him know my bring me a hundred and forty miles here-May I choice shall be his, and he shall consent to marnever do an ill turn, but you deserve to have ry you before he sees you, or not an acre of estate your head broke; and I have a good mind, part--Pray, sir, walk this way. ly-What, sirrah, don't you think it worth your while to speak to me? Young Mea. Forgive me, sir; I own I have been in fault. Sir Wil. In fault! to run away, from me because I was going to do you good-May Inever do on ill turn, master Hawthorn, if I did not pick out as fine a girl for him, partly, as any in England! and the rascal ran away from me, and came here and turned gardener. And pray what did you propose to yourself, Tom? I know you were always fond of botany, as they call it; did you intend to keep the trade going, and advertise fruit trees and flowering shrubs, to be had at Meadows's nursery. Haw. No, Sir William, I apprehend the young gentleman designed to lay by the profession; for he has quitted the habit already. Young Mea. I am so astonished to see you here, sir, that I don't know what to say; but I assure you, if you had not come, I should have returned home to you directly. Pray, sir, how did you find me out? Sir Wil. No matter, Tom, no matter; it was partly by accident, as a body may say ; but what does that signify ?-tell me, boy, how stands your stomach towards matrimony? do you think could digest a wife, now? you Young Mea. Pray, sir, don't mention it; I shall always behave myself as a dutiful son ought: I will never marry without your consent, and I hope you won't force me to do it against my own, Sir Wil. Is not this mighty provoking, master Hawthorn? why, sirrah, did you ever see the lady I design'd for you. Young Mea. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's merit; but at present I am not disposed Haw. Nay, but, young gentleman, fair and softly; you should pay some respect to your father in this matter. Sir Wil. Respect, master Hawthorn! I tell you he shall marry her, or I'll disinherit him! there's once. Look you, Tom, not to make any more words of the matter, I have brought the lady here with me, and I'll see you contracted before we part; or you shall delve and plant cucumbers as long as you live. Young Mea. Have you brought the lady here, sir? I am sorry for it. Young Mea. Sir, I cannot help thinking your conduct a little extraordinary; but since you urge me so closely, I must tell you my affections are engaged. Sir W. How, Tom, how! Young Mea. I was determined, sir, to have got the better of my inclination, and never have done a thing which I knew would be disagreeable to you. Sir W. And pray, sir, who are your affections engaged to? Let me know that. fortune may be no recommendations to her; but Young Mea. To a person, sir, whose rank and whose charms and accomplishments entitle her to a monarch. I am sorry, sir, it's impossible for me to comply with your commands, and I hope you will not be offended if I quit your pre sence. Sir W. Not I, not in the least: go about your business. Young Mea. Sir, I obey. Haw. Now, madam, is the time. [ROSSETTA advances, YOUNG MEADOWS turns round and sees her: AIR. Ros. When we see a lover languish, Sir Wil. Well, Tom, will you go away from me now? Haw. Perhaps, Sir William, your son does not like the lady; and if so, pray don't put a force upon his inclination. method, sir, to let me see you are acquainted Young Mea. You need not have taken this with my folly whatever my inclinations are. consent to your marrying this young woman! Sir Wil. Well, but, Tom, suppose I give my Young Mea. Your consent, sir? jest far enough: I see your son is in a kind of Ros. Come, Sir William, we have carried the embarrassinent, and I don't wonder at it; but this letter which I received from him a few days bend, expound the riddle. He cannot be surbefore I left my father's house, will, I appreSir Wil. Why sorry? What then, you won't expressed so much dislike to me; and what has prised that I ran away from a gentleman who marry her? We'll see that! Pray, master Haw-happened, since chance has brought us together thorn, conduct the fair one in. Ay, sir, you may in masquerade, there is no occasion for me to fret, and dance about, trot at the rate of fifteen inform him of. miles an hour, if you please; but marry whip me I'm resolved. Enter ROSSETTA. Haw. Here is the lady, Sir William. Sir W. Come in, madam, but turn your face from him-he would not marry you, because he Young Mea. What is all this? Pray don't make a jest of me! Sir Wil. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, if it is not truth! this is my friend's daughter. Young Mea. Sir ! you have not been a more whimsical gentleman, Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In short than I have a gentlewoman; but you see we are designed for one another, 'tis plain, Young Mea. I know not, madam, what I either hear or see; a thousand things are crowding on my imagination; while, like one just awakened from a dream, I doubt which is reality, .which delusion. Sir Wil. Well, then, Toin, come into the air a bit, and recover yourself. Young Meu. Nay, dear sir, have a little patience; do you give her to me? Sir Wil. Give her to you! ay, that I do, and my blessing into the bargain. Young Mea. Then, sir, I am the happiest man in the world! I enquire no farther; here I fix the utmost limits of my hopes and happiness. Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK, MRS. DOBORAH WOODCOCK, LUCINDA, EUSTACE, and HODGE. Mrs. Deb. Why, brother, do you think I can't hear, or see, or make use of my senses? I tel you, I left that fellow locked up in her closet; and, while I have been with you, they have broke open the door, and got him out again. J. Wood. Well, you hear what they say? Mrs. Deb. I care not what they say; it's you encourage them in their impudence—— Hars ve, bussy, will you face me down. that I did not lock the fellow up? Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you mean; when you talk intelligibly, I'll answer you. Eus. Seriously, madam, this is carrying the jest a little too far. Mrs. Deb. What, then, I did not catch you Haw. Give you joy, sir; and you, fair lady--together in her chamber, nor overhear your de And, under favour, I'll salute you too, if there's sign of going off to-night, nor find the bundles no fear of jealousy. packed up Young Mea. And may I believe this? Pr'ythee tell me, dear Rossetta! Ros. Step into the house, and I'll tell you every thing; I must intreat the good offices of Sir William and Mr. Hawthorn, immediately; for I am in the utmost uneasiness about my poor friend Lucinda. Haw. Why, what's the matter? Ros. I don't know; but I have reason to fear I left her, just now, in very disagreeable circumstances: however, I hope, if there's any mischief fallen out between her father and her lover Haw. The music-master! I thought so. Sir Wil. What, is there a lover in the case? May I never do an ill turn, but I'm glad, so I am! for we'll make a doubie wedding; and, by way of celebrating it, take a trip to London, to shew the brides some of the pleasures of the town. And, master Hawthorn, you shall be of the party-Come, children, go before us. Haw. Thank, you, Sir William; I'll go into the house with you, and to church to see the young folks married; but, as to London, I beg to be excused. 2 Eus. Ha, ha, ha! Luc. Why, aunt, you rave! Mrs. Deb. Brother, as I am a Christian woman, she confessed the whole affair to me from first to last; and, in this very place, was down upon her marrow-bones for half an hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you. Hodge. O Lord! O Lord! Mrs. Deb. What, sirrah, would you brazen me too? Take that! [Bores him. Hodge. I wish you would keep your hands to yourself! you strike me, because you have been telling his worship stories. J. Wood. Why, sister, you are tipsy! Mrs. Deb. I tipsy, brother! I-that never touch a drop of any thing strong from year's end to year's end; but now and then a little anniseed water, when I have got the colic. Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complaining of the stomach-ach all day; and may have taken too powerful a dose of your cordial. J. Wood. Come, con e, I see well enough how it is: this is a lie of her own invention, to make herself appear wise: but, you simpleton! did you not know I must find you out? Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, ROSSETTA, and YOUNG MEADOWS. Young Mea. Bless me, sir! Look who is yonder! Sir Wil. Cocksbones, Jack! honest Jack, are you there? Eus. Plague on't, this rencounter is unluckySir William, your servant. Ah! now I see if I had tried you, But here I charge you-make them happy, Mrs. Deb. Come, turn out of the house, and Sir Wil. Your servant, again; and again, heart-be thankful that my brother does not hang you, ily your servant; may I never do an ill turn, but I am glad to meet you! J. Wood. Pray, Sir William, are you acquainted with this person? Sir Wil. What, with Jack Eustace! why, he's my kinsman: his mother and I were cousin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very worthy young fellow; may I never do an ill turn if I tell a word of a lie. J. Wood. Well, but, Sir William, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter. This man is a music-master; a thruminer of wire, and a scraper of cat-gut, and teaches my daughter to sing. Sir Wil. What, Jack Eustace a music-master! No, no; I know him better. Eus. 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to carry on this absurd farce any longer-What that gentleman tells you is very true, sir: I am no music-master, indeed. J. Wood. You are not? you own it, then? Eus. Nay more, sir; I am, as this lady has represented me-[Pointing to MRS. DEB.]—your daughter's lover; whom, with her own consent, I did intend to have carried off this night; but now that Sir William Meadows is here, to tell you who, and what I am, I throw myself upon your generosity, from which I expect greater advantages than I could reap from any imposition on your unsuspicious nature. Mrs. Deb. Well, brother, what have you to say for yourself now? You have made a precious day's work of it! Had my advice been taken! Oh, I am ashamed of you! but you are a weak man, and it can't be helped; however, you should let wiser heads direct you. Luc. Dear papa, pardon me. Sir Wil. Ay, do, sir, forgive her; my cousin Jack will make her a good husband, I'll answer for it. Ros. Stand out of the way, and let me speak two or three words to his worship. Come, my dear sir, though you refuse all the world, I am sure you can deny me nothing: love is a venial fault You know what I mean? Be reconciled to your daughter, I conjure you by the memory of our past affections- What! not a word? AIR. Go, naughty man! I can't abide you; Are then our vows so soon forgot? for he could do it; he's a justice of peace; turn out of the house, I say! J. Wood. Who gave you authority to turn him out of the house?- -He shall stay where he is. Mrs. Deb. He shan't marry my niece. J. Wood. Shan't he? but I'll shew you the difference now; I say, he shall marry her, and what will you do about it? Mrs. Deb. And you will give him your estate too, will you? J. Wood. Yes, I will. J. Wood. Here, young fellow, take my daughter, and bless you both together; but hark you? no money till I die; observe that. Eus. Sir, in giving me your daughter, you bestow upon me more than the whole world would be without her. Ros. Dear Lucinda, if words could convey the transports of my heart upon this occasion Luc. Words are the tools of hypocrites, the pretenders to friendship; only let us resolve to preserve our esteem for each other. Young Mea. Dear Jack, I little thought we should ever meet in such odd circumstancesbut here has been the strangest business between this lady and me Hodge. What, then, Mrs. Rossetta, are you turned false-hearted, after all? will you marry Thomas the gardener? and did I forsake Madge for this? SCENE I-A rural Prospect, with a Mill at work. Several People employed about; on one side a House, PATTY reading in the Window; on the other a Barn, where FANNY sits mending a Net; GILES appears at a distance in the Mill; FAIRFIELD and RALPH taking Sacks from a Cart. CHORUS. Free from sorrow, free from strife, O how blest the miller's life! Chearful working through the day, Still he laughs, and sings away. Nought can ver him, Nought perplex him, While there's grist to make him gay. DUET. Let the great enjoy the blessings Fair. Well done, well done! 'tis a sure sign work goes on merrily, when folks sing at it. Stop the mill there! and dost hear, son Ralph ? hoist yon sacks of flour upon this cart, lad, and drive it up to Lord Aimworth's; coming from London last night with strange company, no doubt there are calls enough for it by this time. Ralph. Ay, feyther, whether or not, there's no doubt but you'll find enow for a body to do. Fair. What, dust mutter? Is't not a strange |