a pretty comely lad he is: but he's rich, and that's enough to win a woman. Phabe. I don't desarve this of you, William; but I'm rightly sarved for being such an easy fool. You think, mayhap, I'm at jast my prayers; but you may find yourself mistaken. Will. You do right to cry out first; you think belike that I did not see you take that posy from Harry. Phabe. And you, belike, that I did not catch you tying up one of the cornflowers and wild roses for the miller's maid: but I'll be fooled no longer; I have done with you, Mr. William. Will. I shan't break my heart, Mrs. Phoebe. The miller's maid loves the ground I walk on, flock, Her breath like the new made hay. Pho. He's tall and he's strait as a poplar tree, His cheeks are as fresh as a rose ; He looks like a 'squire of high degree, When drest in his Sunday clothes. Phoe. There's fifty young men, &c. Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled, &c. [Go off on different sides of the Stage. Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE and ROSINA. Capt. B. Stay, and hear me, Rosina. Why will you fatigue yourself thus? only homely girls are born to work-your obstinacy is vain; you shall hear me. Ros. Why do you stop me, sir? my time is precious. When the gleaning season is over, will you make up my loss? Capt. B. Yes. Ros. Will it be any advantage to you to make me lose my day's work? Capt. B. Yes. AIR. Whilst with village maids I stray, Sweetly wears the joyous day: Cheerful glows my artless breast, Mild content the constant guest. Capt. B. Mere prejudice, child: you will know better. I pity you, and will make your fortune. Ros. Let me call my mother, sir. I am young, and can support myself by my labour; but she is old and helpless, and your charity will be well bestowed. Please to transfer to her the bounty you intended for me. Capt. B. Why, as to that— Ros. I understand you, sir; your compassion does not extend to old women. Capt. B. Really, I believe not. Enter DORCAS, Ros. You are just come in time, mother. I have met with a generous gentleman, whose charity inclines him to succour youth, Dor. 'Tis very kind; and old age- [ROSINA goes into the Cottage. Dor. I thought so. Sure, sure, 'tis no sin to be old! Capt. B. You must not judge of me by others, honest Dorcas. I am sorry for your misfortunes, and wish to serve you. Dor. And to what, your honour, may I owe this kindness? Capt. B. You have a charming daughter Dor. [Aside.] I thought as much. A vile wicked nian! Capt. B. Beauty like her's might find a thousand resources in London: the moment she appears there, she will turn every head. Dor. And is your honour sure her own won't turn at the same time? Capt. B. She shall live in affluence, and take care of you too, Dorcas. Dor. I guess your honour's meaning; but you are mistaken, sir. If I must be a trouble to the dear child, I shall rather owe my bread to ber labour than her shame. [Goes into the Cottage, and shuts the door. Capt. B. These women astonish me! but I won't give it up so. Enter RUSTIC. A word with you, Rustic. Rus. I'm in a great hurry, your honour; I am Ros. Would it give you pleasure to see me going to hasten dinner. pass all my days in idleness? Capt. B. Yes. Ros. We differ greatly then, sir: I only wish for so much leisure as makes me return to my work with fresh spirit. We labour all the week, 'tis true: but then how sweet is our rest on Sunday! Capt. B. I shan't keep you a minute. Take these five guineas. Rus. For whom, sir? Capt. B. For yourself; and this purse. Capt. B. For Rosina; they say she is in dis tress, and wants assistance, Bel. Well, Rustic, have you any intelligence to communicate? Rus. A vast deal, sir. Your brother begins to make a good use of his money he has given me these five guineas for myself, and this purse for Rosina. Bel. For Rosina! [Aside.] 'Tis plain he loves her!-Obey him exactly: but as distress renders the mind haughty, and Rosina's situation requires the utmost delicacy, contrive to execute your commission in such a manner that she may not even suspect from whence the money comes. Rus. I understand your honour. Bel. Have you gained any intelligence in respect to Rosina. Rus. I endeavoured to get all I could from the old woman's grand-daughter; but all she knew was, that she was no kin to Dorcas, and that she had had a good bringing-up: but here are the labourers. Bel. Let the cloth be laid on these sheaves. Behold the table of happiness! But I don't see Bel. By this fountain's flowery side, Chorus. Simple Nature ye who prize, Life's fantastic forms despise. Taste our pleasures ye who may, This is Nature's holiday. Capt. Blushing Bell, with downcast eyes, Tom is by her-we shall know— Will. He is fond, and she is shy! He would kiss her!-fie!-Oh, fic! Mind thy sickle, let her be; By and by she'll follow thee. Chorus. Busy censors, hence, away! This is Nature's holiday. Now we'll quaff the nut-brown ale, Then we'll tell the sportive tale; All is jest, and all is glee, All is youthful jollity. Rus. Phoe. Lads and lasses all advance, Carol blithe, and form the dance! Trip it lightly, while you may, This is Nature's holiday. Chorus. Trip it lightly while you may, This is Nature's holiday. [All rise; the Dancers come down the Stage through the Sheaves of Corn, which are removed; the Dance begins, and finishes the Act. ACT II. SCENE continues. Rus. This purse is the plague of my life: I hate money when it is not my own. I'll even put in the five guineas he gave me for myself: I don't want it, and they do. It's a good action, and will be its own reward. They certainly must find it there. I'm glad I've got rid on't however; but I hear the cottage door open. [Retires a little. [DORCAS and ROSINA come out of the Cottage; DORCAS with a great Basket on her arm, filled with Skeins of Thread. [Whilst DORCAS feels in her pocket for the Key. Capt. B. [Aside.] Rosina to be at home before Dorcas! how lucky! I'll slip into the house, and wait her coming, if 'tis till midnight. [He goes unperceived by them into the Cottage. Dor. Let nobody go into the house. Ros. I'll take care; but first I'll double lock the door. [Stops to lock the Door. Dor. [Sees the purse.] Good lack: what is here? a purse, as I live! Ros. How? AIR. Henry cull'd the flow'ret's bloom, [While she is singing, WILLIAM turns, looks at her, whistles, and plays with his stick. Will. That's Harry's posy; the slut likes me still. Pha. [Aside.] That's a copy of his countenance, I'm sartain; he can no more help following me nor he can be hanged. [WILLIAM crosses again, singing. Of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, The maid of the mill for me. Pha. I am ready to choke wi' madness, but I'll not speak first an' I die for't. [WILLIAM Sings; throwing up his Stick, and catching it. Pray, William, do you know any body that has now. lost a purse. Pha. I did not value her scolding of a brass farthing, when I thought as how you were true | Of autumn's rich store I bring home my part, The weight on my head, but gay joy in my to me. Will. Was'n't I true to you; look in my face and say that. [Aloud.] I lov'd you very well once, Phoebe; but you are grown so cross, and have such vagaries Pha. I'm sure I never had no vagaries with you, William. But go, mayhap Kate may be angry. Will. And who cares for she? I never minded her anger, nor her coaxing neither, till you were cross to me. Pha. [Holding up her hands.] O the father! I cross to you, William ? Will. Did not you tell me this very morning as how you had done wi' me? Pha. One word's as good as a thousand. Do you love me, William ? Will. Do I love thee? do I love dancing on the green better than thrashing in the barn? do I love a wake? a harvest-home? Pha. Then I'll never speak to Harry again the longest day I have to live. Will. I'll turn my back o' the miller's maid the first time 1 meet her. Pha. Will you indeed, and indeed? Will. Marry will I; and more nor that, I'll go speak to the parson this moment-[Kisses her.] I'm happier-zooks, I'm happier nor a lord or a squire of five hundred a year. AIR.-Duet. Phoe. In gaudy courts, with aching hearts, The hills may higher honours claim, Will. See highborn dames, in rooms of state, Both. Amid the shades of virgin sighs Add fragrance to the gale: Enter BELVILLE. Bel. I tremble at the impression this lovely girl has made on my heart. My cheerfulness has left me, and I am grown insensible, even to the delicious pleasure of making those happy who depend on my protection. Since the sun rose, I have been in continual exercise; I feel exhausted, and will try to rest a quarter of an hour on this bank. [Lies down on a Bank. [Gleaners pass the Stage with Sheaves of Corn on their heads; ROSINA last, who comes forward singing. heart. The sun points full on this spot; let me fasten these branches together with this ribbon, and shade him from its beams-yes-that will do— but if he should wake [Takes the ribbon from her bosom and ties the branches together. How my heart beats? one look more—ah! I have waked him. [She flies and endeavours to hide herself against the door of the Cottage, turning her head every instant. Bel. What noise was that? [Half raise him self.] This ribbon I have seen before, and on the lovely Rosina's bosom [He rises, and goes towards the Cottage. Ros. I will hide myself in the house! [ROSINA opening the Door, sees Capt. BELVILLE, and starts back. Heavens! a man in the house! Capt. B. Now love assist me ! [Comes out, and seizes ROSINA ; she breaks from him, and runs affrighted cross the Stage-BELVILLE follows; CAPT. BELVILLE, who comes out to pursue her, sees his Brother, and steals off. Bel. Why do you fly thus, Rosina? what can you fear? you are out of breath. Ros. O, sir! my strength fails his arms. [Leans on BELVILLE, who supports her in Where is he?—a gentleman pursued me [Looking round. Bel. Don't be alarmed,'twas my brother-he could not mean to offend you. Ros. Your brother? why then does he not imitate your virtues? why was he here? Bel. Forget this; you are safe. But tell me, Rosina, for the question is to me of importance; have I not seen you wear this ribbon? Ros. Forgive me, sir; I did not mean to disturb you. I only meant to shade you from the too great heat of the sun. Bel. To what motive do I owe this tender attention? Ros. Ah, sir! do not the whole village love you! Bel. You tremble; why are you alarmed? DUET. BELVILLE and ROSINA. BELVILLE, [Taking her Hand.] For you, my sweet maid, nay be not afraid, [ROSINA withdraws her, hand. I feel an affection that still wants e name. Ros. When first-—but in vain—I seek to er- | my father's heart; a thousand times have I plain, What heart but must love you? I blush, fear, and shame Bel. Why thus timid, Rosina? still safe by my side, Let me be your guardian, protector, and guide. Ros. My timid heart pants-still safe by your side, Be you my protector, my guardian, my guide. Bel. Why thus timid, &c. Ros. My timid heart pants, &c. Bel. Unveil your whole heart to me, Rosina. The graces of your form, the native dignity of your mind, a thousand circumstances concur to convince me you were not born a villager. A Ros. To you, sir, I can have no reserve. pride, I hope an honest one, made me wish to sigh in secret over my misfortunes. Bel. [Eagerly.] They are at an end. heard him lament his fate. [Aside.] Rosina's virtues shall not go unrewarded. Dor. Yes, I know'd it would be so. Heaven never forsakes the good man's children. Enter the first and second Irishmen. 1 Irish. [To DORCAS.] Dry your tears, my jewel; we have done for them. Dor. Have you saved her? I owe you more than life. 1 Irish. Faith, good woman, you owe me nothing at all, I'll tell your honour how it was. My comrades and I were crossing the meadow, going home, when we saw them first; and hearing a woman cry, I looked up, and saw them putting her into a skiff against her will. Says I, Paddy, "is not that the clever little crater that was glaning in the field with us this morning?"-"Tis so, sure enough," says he "By St. Patrick," says I, "there's enough of us to rescute her." With that we ran for the Ros. Dorcas approaches, sir; she can best bare life, waded up to the knees, laid about relate my melancholy story. Enter DORCAS. Dor. His honour here? good lack! how sorI am I happened to be from home. Troth, I'm sadly tired. ry Ros. Why would you insist on going? indeed, sir, she will kill herself. Bel. Will you let me speak with you a moament alone, Dorcas? Dor. Sure will I, your honour. Rosina, take this basket. [Exit.] Will your honour please to walk into our homely cottage? Bel. I thank you, Dorcas, but 'tis pleasanter here. Rosina has referred me to you, Dorcas, for an account of her birth, which I have long suspected to be above her present situation. Dor. To be sure, your honour, since the dear child gives me leave to speak, she's of as good a family as any in England. Her mother, sweet lady, was my bountiful old master's daughter, 'Squire Welford of Lincolnshire. Bel. And her father? Dor. Was a brave gentleman too, a colonel: a charming couple they were, and loved one another so, it would have done your heart good to see them. His honour went to the Eastern Indies, to better his fortune, and madam would go wi' him. The ship was lost, and they with all the little means they had, went to the bottom. Young madam Rosina was their only child; they left her at school; but when this sad news came, the mistress did not care for keeping her! so the dear child has shared my poor morsel. us bravely with our shillelays, knocked them out of the skiff, and brought her back safe: and here she comes, my jewel. [ROSINA is followed by the Reapers, and throws herself into DORCAS's arms. Dor. I canno' speak-art thou safe? Bel. I dread to find the criminal. Rus. Your honour need not go far afield, I believe; it must have been some friend of the captain's for his French valet commanded the party. Capt. B. I confess my crime; my passion for Rosina hurried me out of myself. Bel. You have dishonoured me, dishonoured the glorious profession you have embraced.— But begone, I renounce you as my brother, and renounce my ill-placed friendship. Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have offended almost past forgivenesss. Will the offer of my hand repair the injury? Bel. If Rosina accepts it, I am satisfied. Ros. [To BEL.] Will you, sir, suffer?-this hope is a second insult. Whoever offends the object of his love, is unworthy of obtaining her.. Bel. This noble refusal paints your character. I know another, Rosina, who loves you with as strong, though purer ardour: the timidity inseparable from real love has hitherto prevented him from declaring himself-but if allowed to hope Ros. Do not, sir, envy me the calm delight of passing my independent days with Dorcas, in whom I have found a mother's tenderness. Dor. Bless thee, my child; thy kindness melts my heart-but you must marry. Ros. Never, till affection points out the ob Bel. 'Tis enough, Dorças: you shall not re-ject; to sensible minds, marriage must be a pent your kindness to her. But her father's source of exquisite happiness or misery. name? Bel. Do you refuse me then, Rosina? [ROSINA raises her eyes tenderly on BELVILLE, lowers them again, and leans on Doreas. Dor. Melville; Colonel Melville. |