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Mrs. Deb. You are a fool, brother; and mark my words—But I'll give myself no more trouble
Haw. Fiddlers, strike up!
Every grief in pleasure drowning,
Mirth this happy night employ:
Laugh and sing some good old strain;
Hence with cares, complaints, and frowning,
Welcome jollity and joy ;
SCENE I.-A rural Prospect, with a Mill at
work. Several People employed about; on one side a House, Party reading in the Window; on the other a Barn, where Fanny sits meoding a Net; Giles appears at a distance in the Mill; FAIRFIELD and Ralpu taking Sacks from a Cart.
CHORUS. Free from sorrow, free from strife,
O how blex the miller's life! Chearful working through the day, Still he laughs, and sings away.
Nought can der him,
Nought perpler him, While there's grist to make him gay.
Let the great enjoy the blessings
By indulgent fortune sent :
More than plenty and content e Fair. Well done, well done ! 'tis a sure sigo 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.
Fuir. What, dost inutter? Is't not a strange
throw you ;
plague that thou can'st never go about any thing For
my share I'm weary of what is got hy't; with a good will! murrain take it, what's come s'flesh ! here's such a rucket, such scolding and o'er the boy? So, then, thou wilt not set a hand coiling, to what I have desired thee?
You're never content, but when folks are a toilRalph. Why don't you speak to suster Pal to ing, do something, then? I thought when she came And drudging, like horses, from morning till home to us, after my old lady's death, she was to night. bave been of some use in the house ; but, instead of that, she sits there all day, reading out. You think I'm afraid ? but the difference to show landish books, dressed like a fine madumasel, you, and the never a word you says to she.
First, yonder's your shovel; your sacks, too, I Fair. Sirrah, don't speak so disrespectfully of thy sister ! thou wilt never have the tithe of her Henceforward take care of your matters aho deserts.
will; Ralph. Why I'll read and write with her for | They're welcome to slare for your wages who nec: what she dares; and as for playing on the hap
'em, sicols, I thinks her good rich mother night | Tol lol de rol lol, I have purchase a my freedom, have learned her sonietbing more properer, see- And never hereafter shall work at the mill. ing she did not remember to leave her a legacy
[Exit. at last. Fair. That's none of thy business, sirrah.
Enter PATTY. Ralph. A farmer's wife painting pictures, and playing on the hapsicols! why, I'll be hanged ungracious boy puis me quite beside iprself.
Fair. Dear heart, dear heart! I protest this now, for all as old as she is, if she knows any Patty, my dear, come down into the yard a little, more about milking a cow, than I do of sewing and keep me company and you, thieves, vagsa petticoat.
Fair. Ralph, thou has been drinking this bonds, gipsies, out here! 'tis you who debauca morning.
my son. Ralph. Well, if so be as I have, it's nothing
AIR. out of your pocket, nor mine neither.
Fair. Who has been giving thec liquor, sirrab?
Pat. In love to pine and languish, Ralph. Why it was wind--a gentleman guve
Yet know your passion vain;
To harbour heart-felt anguish, Fair. A gentleman !
Yet fear to teli
your pain. Ralph. Yes, a gentleman that's come piping hot from London: he is below at the Cat and
What powers unrelenting, Bagpipes; I cod he rides a choice bit of a nag;
Sederer ills inventing, I dare to say she'd fetch as good as forty pound
Can sharpen pangs like these? at ever a fair in all England.
Where days and nights tormenting, Fair. A fig's end for what she'd fetch! mind
Yield not a moment's case ! thy business, or by the Lord Harry
*Ralph. Why, I won't do another band's turn Fuir. Well, Patty, master Goodman, my to-day now, so that's flat.
lord's steward, has been with me just now, and Fair. Thou wilt not
I find we are like to have great doings; his lordRalph. Why no, I won't; so, what argufies ship has brought down Sir Harry Sycamore and your putting yourself in a passion, feyther? I've his family, and there is more coinpany espected promised to go back to the gentleman; and I in a few days. don't know but what he's a lord, loo, and
Pat. I know Sir Harry very well; he is by mayhap he may do more for me than you thinks marriage a distant relation of my lord's.
Fair. Pray, what sort of a young body is the Fair. Well, sop Ralph, run thy gait; but re- daughter there? I think she used to be with you member I tell thee, thou wilt repent this unto
at the castle, three or four summers ago, whea wardness.
my young lord was out upon bis travels. Ralph. hy, how shall I repent it? Mayhap
Pat, Ob! very often; she was a great favou'll turn me out of your service ? a match; vourite of my lady's: pray, father, is she come with all hearts-1 cod I don't care three brass down? pins.
Fair. Why, you know the report last night, about
my lord's going to be married ? by what AIR.
I can learn she is; and there is likely to be a
nearer relationship between the families, ere If that's all ye want, who the plague will be long. It seemis, his lordship was not over willing sorry
for the match, but the friends on both sides in *Teere betier by half to dig stones in a quarry; London pressed it so hard : then, there's a swing
ing fortune : Master Goodman tells me, a matter
Enter Giles. of twenty or thirty thousand pounds.
Pat. If it was a million, father, it would not Giles. Well, Master Fairfield, you and Miss be more than my lord Aimworth deserves ; 1 Pat have had a long discourse together; did you suppose the wedding will be celebrated here at tell her that I was come down? the mansion house?
Fair. No, in truth, friend Giles; but I menFair. So it is thought, as soon as things can tioned our affair at a distance; and I think there be properly prepared And now, Patty, if I is no fear. could but see thee a little inerry-Come, bless Giles. That's right—and when shall us—You thee, pluck up thy spirits !—To be sure thou hast do know I have told you my mind often and sustained, in the death of thy lady, a heavy loss; often. she was a parent to thee; nay, and better, inas- Fuir. Farmer, give us thy band; nobody much as she took thee, when thou wert but a doubts thy good will to me and my girl; and you babe, and gave thee an education which thy na- may take my word, I would rather give her to tural parents could not afford to do.
thee than another; for I am main certain thou Pat. Ab! dear father, don't mention what, wilt make her a good husband. perhaps, has been my greatest misfortune. Giles. Thanks to your good opinion, Master
Fair. Nay, then, Patty, what's become of all Fairfield ; if such be my hap, I hope there will thy sense, that people talk so much about ? be no cause of complaint. But I have something to say, to thee, which I Fuir. And I promise thee my daughter will would have thee consider seriously. I believe make thee a choice wife. But thou know'st, I need not tell thee, my child, that a young mai-friend Giles, that I, and all belongs to me, have den, after she is marriageable, especially if she great obligations to lord Aimworth's family. has any thing about her to draw peuple's notice Patty, in particular, would be one of the most is liable to ill tongues, and a many cross acci- ungrateful wretches this day breathing, if ste dents; so that, the sooner she's out of harm's way was to do the smallest thing contrary to their the better.
consent and approbation. Pat. Undoubtedly, father, there are people Giles. Nay, nay, 'tis well enough known to enough who watch every opportunity to gratify all the country, she was the old lady's darling, their own malice ; but when a young woman's Fair. Well, master Giles, I'll assure thee she conduct is unblameable
is not one whit less obliged to my lord himself. Fair. Why, Patty, there may be something in When his mother was taken off so suddenly, that; but you know slander will leave spots, and his affairs called him up to London, if Patiy where malice finds none : I say, then, a young would have remained at the castle, she might woman's best safeguard is a good husband. Now have had the command of all ; or if she would there is our neighbour, Farmer Giles; he is a bave gone any where else, he would have paid sober, honest, industrious young fellow, and one for her fixing, let the cost be what it would. of the wealthiest in these parts; he is greatly Giles. Why, for that matter, folks did not taken with thee, and it is not the first time I spare to say, that iny lord had a sort of a sneakhave told thee I should be glad to have him for ing kindness for her himself: and I remember, a son-in-law.
at one time, it was rife all about the neighbourPat. And I have told you as often, father, I hood that she was actually to be our lady. would submit myself entirely to your direction; Fair. Pho! pho ! a pack of women's tales. whatever you think proper for me is so.
Giles. Nay, io be sure tbey'll say any thing. Fair. Why that's spoken like a dutiful sensi- Fair. My lord's a man of a better way of ble girl ; get thee in, then, and leave me to man- thinking, friend Giles—but this is neither here age it. Perhaps our neighbour Giles is not nor there to our business— Have you been at a gentleman ; but what are the greatest part of the castle yet? our country gentlemen good for?
Giles. Who I ! Bless your heart, I did not hear Pat. Very true, father. The sentiments, in- a syllable of his lordship's being come down, 'till deed, have frequently little correspondence with your lad told me. the condition ; and it is according to them alone Fuir. No! why, then go up to my lord ; let we ought to regulate our esteem.
him know you have a mind to make a match
with my daughter; hear wbat he has to say to AIR.
it ; and afterwards we will try if we can't settle
matters. What are outward forms and shows, Giles. Go up to my lord ! Icod if that be all, To an honest heart compared ?
I'll do it with the biggest pleasure in life. But of the rustic, wanting those,
where's Miss Pat? Might One not ax her how Has the nobler portion shared.
Fair. Never spare it ; she's within there. Oft we see the homely flower
Giles. I see her-odd rabbit it, this hatch is Bearing, at the hedge's side,
locked now— Miss Pal-Miss Patty-She makes l'irtues of more sovereign power
believe not to hear me. Then ihe garden's gayest pride. [Exit.
Fair. Well, well, never mind; thou'lt come Pat. What will become of me? My lord will and eat a morsel of dinner with us.
certainly imagine this is done with my consentGiles. Nay, but just to have a bit of a joke Well, is he not himself going to be married to s with her at present-Miss Pat, I say—won't you lady, suitable to him in rank, suitable to him in open the door?
fortune, as this farmer is to me? and, under what
pretence can I refuse the husband my father SIR.
has found for me ? shall I say that I have dared
to raise my inclinations aborc my condition, and Hark! 'tis I your own true lover, presumed to love, where my duty taught me only
After walking three long miles, gratitude and respect? Alas! Who could live in One kind look at least discover,
the house with lord Aimworth, see hiin, converse Come and speak a word to Giles.
with him, and not love him? I have this consolaYou alone my heart I fir on :
tion, however, my folly is yet undiscovered to Ah, you little cunning viren! any ; else, how should I be ridiculed and de I can see your roguish smiles.
spised! way, would not my lord himself despise Addslids ! my mind is so possest,
me, especially, if he knew that I have more than Fill we're sped, I shan't have rest ;
once construed his natural affability and polite Only say the thing's a bargain.
ness into sentiments as unworthy of him, as mine Here an you like it, are bold and extravagant. Unexampled vanity
! Ready to strike it,
Did I possess any thing capable of attracting There's at once an end of arguing": such a notice, to what purpose could a man ei I'm hers, she's mine ;
his distinction cast kis eyes on a girl, poor, meanThus we seal and thus a e sign. [Exit. ly born, and indebted for every thing to the ill
placed bounty of his family? Enter PATTY.
AIR. Fair. Patty, child, why would'st not thou open the door for our neighbour Giles?
Ah ! why should Fate, pursuing Pat. Really, father, I did not know what was
A wretched thing like me, the matter.
Heap ruin, thus on ruin, Fair. Well, another time; he'll be here again
And add to misery? presently. He's gone up to the castle, Patty; The griefs I languished under, thou know'st it would not be right for us to do
In secret let me share; any thing without giving his lordship intelligence; But this new stroke of thunder, so I have sent the farmer to let him know, that
Is more than I can bear. [Exit he is willing, and we are willing; and with his lordship's approbationPat. 'Oh, dear father, what are you going to SCENE II.- A chamber in LORD AINWORTH'S
house. Fair. Nay, child, I would not have stirred a step for fifty pounds, without advertising his
Enter Sir HARRY SYCAMORE and TuropOSIA. lordship before-hand. Pat. But surely, surely, you have not done
Sir Har. Well, but, Thcodosia, child, you are this rash, this precipitate thing.
quite unreasonable. Fair. How raslı, how is it rash, Patty ? I don't
The Pardon me, papa, it is not I am unrea: understand thee,
sonable: when I gave way to my inclinations for Pat. Oh, you have distressed me beyond ima
Mr. Mervin, he did not seem less agreeable w gination ! but why would you not give me 110
my mamma, than he was acceptable to tice ? speak to me first?
me. It is, therefore, you have been unreasotaFair. Why, han't I spoken to thec a hundred ble, in first encouraging his addresses, and attertimes ? No, Patty, 'tis thou that woulds’t distress bring me down here, to force me on a gentle
wards forbidding him your house, in order to me, and thou'lt break my heart.
Pat. Dear father! Fair. All I desire is , to see thee well settled ; mean? By the la, I would not force you on the
Sir Har. Force you, Dossy! what do you and now that I am likely to do so, thou art not contented. I am sure the farmer is as sightly a
czar of Muscovy ! clever lad as any in the country ; and is he not For though lord'Aimworth is extremely attentire
The. And yet, papa, what else can you
call it! as good as we. Pat. 'Tis very true, father ; I am to blame; of the most ardent of lovers.
and obliging, I assure you he is by no ineans obe pray forgive me. Fair. Forgive thec, Lord help thee, my child, never think there is any love, without kissing and
Sir Har. Ardent! Ah, there it is; you girls I am not angry with thee; but quiet thyself, Pat- bugging ; but you should consider, child, my lord ủy, and thou’li sce all this will turn out for the Aimworth is a polite man, and has been abroad best.
in France and Italy, where these things are not 1