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phosis? I protest, if you had not spoke, I Pat. Upon my knees, upon my knees I should not have known you; I never saw you it; may every earthly bliss attend you! may wear such clothes as these in my mother's your days prove an uninterrupted course of delightful tranquillity; and your mutual friendPat. No, my lord, it was her ladyships ship, confidence, and love, end but with your pleasure I should wear better, and therefore I lives obeyed; but it is now my duty to dress in a Lord A. Rise, Patty, rise; say no moremanner more suitable to my station and future I suppose you'll wait upon miss Sycamore prospects in life. before you go away-at present I have a little Lord A. I am afraid, Patty, you are too business-As I said, Patty, don't afflict yourhumble-come sit down - nay, I will have it self: I have been somewhat hasty with regard so. [They sit] What is it I have been told to the farmer; but since I see how deeply to-day, Patty? It seems you are going to be are interested in his affairs, I may possibly alter my designs with regard to him - You Pat. Yes, my lord. know-you know, Patty, your marriage with Lord A. Well, and don't you think you him is no concern of mine-I only speakcould have made a better choice than farmer Giles? I should imagine your person, your accomplishments, might have entitled you to My passion in vain I attempt to dissemble: look higher.


Pat. Your lordship is pleased to over-rate my little merit: the education I received in your family does not entitle me to forget my origin; and the farmer is my equal.

Lord A. In what respect? The degrees of rank and fortune, my dear Patty, are arbitrary distinctions, unworthy the regard of those who consider justly; the true standard of equality is seated in the mind: those who think nobly are noble.

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Th' endeavour to hide it, but makes it appear: Enraptur'd I gaze; when I touch her I tremble, And speak to and hear her with falt'ring and fear.

By how many cruel ideas tormented!

My blood's in a ferment; it freezes, it burns! This moment I wish, what the next is repented; While love, rage, and jealousy rack me by

Enter GILES.


Pat. The farmer, my lord, is a very honest man. Giles. Miss Pat - Odd rabbit it, I thought Lord A. So he may: I don't suppose he his honour was here; and I wish I may die would break into a house, or commit a rob-if my heart did not jump into my mouthbery on the highway: what do you tell me of Come, come down in all haste; there's such a his honesty for? rig below as you never knew in your born Pat. I did not mean to offend your lordship. days, There's as good as forty of the tenants, Lord A. Offend! I am not offended, Patty; men and maidens, have got upon the lawn not at all offended. But is there any great before the castle, with pipers and garlands; merit in a man's being honest? just for all the world as tho'f it was MayPat. I don't say there is, my lord. day; and the quality's looking at them out of Lord A. The farmer is an ill-bred, illiterate the windows-'tis as true as any thing; on booby; and what happiness can you propose account of my lord's coming home with his to yourself in such a society? Then, as to his new lady. I am sure- But perhaps, Patty, you person, like him; and if so, I am doing a wrong thing. Giles. Why I was thinking, if so be as Pat. Upon my word, my lordyou would come down, as we might take a Lord A. Nay, I see you do: he has had the dance together: little Sall, farmer Harrow's good fortune to please you; and in that case daughter, of the green, would fain bave had you are certainly in the right to follow your me for a partner; but I said as how I'd go inclinations. I must tell you one thing, Patty, for one I liked better, one that I'd make a however I hope you won't think it unfriendly partner for life. of me-but I am determined farmer Giles shall not stay a moment on my estate after next quarter-day.

Pat. I hope, my lord, he has not incurred your displeasure

Pat. Well, and what then?

Pat. Did you say so?

Giles. Yes; and she was struck all of a heap-she had not a word to throw to a dogfor Sall and I kept company once for a

little bit.

Lord A. That's of no signification. - Could Pat. Farmer, I am going to say something I find as many good qualities in him as you to you, and I desire you will listen to it atdo, perhaps But 'tis enough, he's a fellow Itentively. It seems you think of our being don't like; and as you have a regard for him, married together.


I would have you advise him to provide Giles. Think! why I think of nothing else; it's all over the place, mun, as how you are to be my spouse; and you would not believe what game folks make of me.

Pat. My lord, I am very unfortunate. Lord A. She loves him, 'tis plain. [Aside] Come, Patty, I would not willingly do any thing to make you uneasy. Have you seen miss Sycamore yet?-I suppose you know she and I are going to be married?

Pat. So I hear, my lord.-Heaven make you both happy.

Lord A. Thank you, Patty; I hope we shall be happy.

Pat. Shall I talk to you like a friend, farmer? - You and I were never designed for one another; and I am morally certain we should not be happy.

Giles. Oh! as for that matter, I never has no words with nobody.

Pat. Shall I speak plainer to you then-I don't like you.

Giles. No!

Theo. Oh, infinite! infinite! To see the Pal. On the contrary, you are disagreeable cheerful, healthy-looking creatures, toil with such a good will! To me there were more genuine charms in their awkward stumping

to me.

Giles. Am I? Pat. Yes, of all things: I deal with you and jumping about, their rude measures, and sincerely. homespun finery, than in all the dress, splenGiles. Why, I thought, miss Pat, the affair dour, and studied graces of a birth-night ballbetween you and I was all fix'd and settled. room.

of it.

Pat. Well, let this undeceive you-Be as- Pat. 'Tis a very uncommon declaration to sured we shall never be man and wife. No be made by a fine lady, madam; but certainly, offer shall persuade, no command force me.- however the artful delicacies of high life may You know my mind, make your advantage dazzle and surprise, nature has particular at[Exit. tractions, even in a cottage, her most unadorned Giles. Here's a turn! I don't know what to state, which seldom fails to affect us, though make of it: she's gone mad, that's for sartin; we can scarce give a reason for it. wit and learning have crack'd her brain. But Theo. But you know, Patty, I was always hold, she says I baint to her mind-mayn't a distracted admirer of the country; no damall this be the effect of modish coyness, to do sel in romance was ever fonder of groves like the gentlewomen, because she was bred and purling streams: had I been born in the among them? And I have heard say, they will days of Arcadia, with my present propensity, be upon their vixen tricks till they go into the instead of being a fine lady, as you call me, very church with a man.-There can no harm I should certainly have kept a flock of sheep. come of speaking with master Fairfield, how- Pat. Well, madam, you have the sages, ever.-Odd rabbit it, how plaguy tart she was— poets, and philosophers of all ages, to counI am half vex'd with myself now that I let tenance your way of thinking. her go off so.


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Theo. And you, my little, philosophical friend, don't you think me in the right too? Pat. Yes indeed, madam, perfectly.

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Mer. Yonder she is seated; and, to my

SCENE II.A. View of LORD AIMWORTH'S wish, most fortunately alone. Accost her as I desired.

Theo. Heigho!

House and Improvements; a Seat under a Tree, and part of the Gardenwall, with a Chinese Pavilion over it. Several! Fan. Heaven bless you, my sweet ladycountry People appear dancing, others bless your honour's beautiful visage, and send looking on; among whom are, MERVIN, you a good husband, and a great many of them. disguised, RALPH, FANNY, and a Number Theo. A very comfortable wish, upon my

word: who are you, child?

of Gipsies. Fan. A poor gipsy, an please you, that goes After the Dancers go off, THEODOSIA and about begging from charitable gentlemen and PATTY enter through a Gate supposed ladies-If you have e'er a coal or bit of whito have a Connexion with the principal ting in your pocket, I'll write you the first Building. letter of your sweetheart's name, how many Theo. Well then, my dear Patty, you will husbands you will have, and how many children, run away from us: but why in such a hurry? my lady: or, if you'll let me look at your I have a thousand things to say to you. line of life, I'll tell you whether it will be long Pat. I shall do myself the honour to pay or short, happy or miserable. my duty to you some other time, madam; at Theo. Oh! as for that, I know it alreadypresent I really find myself a little indisposed. you cannot tell me any good fortune, and Theo. Nay, I would by no means lay you therefore I'll hear none. Go about your business. under any restraint. But methinks the enter- Mer. Stay, madam, stay; [Pretending to tainment we have just been taking part of, lift a Paper from the Ground] you have should have put you into better spirits: I am dropp'd something-Fan, call the young gennot in an over merry mood myself, yet I could tlewoman back. not look on the diversion of those honest folks, without feeling a certain gaieté de coeur.

Fan. Lady, you have lost-
Theo. Pho, pho, I have lost nothing.
Mer. Yes, that paper, lady; you dropp'd it

Pat. Why, indeed, madam, it had one circumstance attending it, which is often wanting as you got up from the chair. Fan, give it

Theo. A letter with my address!

to more polite amusements; that of seeming to her honour.
to give undissembled satisfaction to those who
were engaged in it.

[Takes the Paper and reads.

Dear Theodosia! - Though the sight of and I are going to take a walk-My lady, will me was so disagreeable to you, that you you have hold of my arm? charged me never to approach you more, Lady S. No, sir Harry, I choose to go by I hope my hand-writing can have nothing myself.

to frighten or disgust you. I am not far Mer. Now love assist me!-[Turning to off; and the person who delivers you this the Gipsies] Follow, and take all your cues can give you intelligence. from me-Nay but, good lady and gentleman,

Come hither, child: do you know any thing you won't go without remembering the poor of the gentleman that wrote this?

Fan. My lady


Sir H. Hey! here is all the gang after us.
Gip. Pray, your noble honour.
Lady S. Come back into the garden; we
be covered with vermin.

Theo. Make haste, run this moment, bring me to him, bring him to me; say I wait with impatience; tell him I will go, fly any where-shall Mer. My life, my charmer!

Theo. Ob, heavens!-Mr. Mervin!


Lady S. Sir Harry, don't walk so fast; we

are not running for a wager. Sir H. Hough, hough, hough.

Gip. Out of the bowels of your commiseration.

Lady S. They press upon us more and more: yet that girl has no mind to leave them: I shall swoon away.

Sir H. Don't be frighten'd, my lady; let me advance.


Lady S. Hey-day, you have got a cough; You vile pack of vagabonds, what do ye mean ’

I shall have you laid upon my hands presently.
Sir H. No, no, my lady, it's only the old


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Sir H. My lovey takes care of me, and I am_obliged to her.

Lady S. Well, but you ought to mind me then, since you are satisfied I never speak but for your good.-I thought, miss Sycamore, you were to have followed your papa and me into the garden-How far did you go with that wench?

Theo. They are gipsies, madam, they say. Indeed I don't know what they are.

I'll maul you, rascallions,

Ye tatterdemallions

If one of them comes within reach of my cane.

Such cursed assurance,
"Tis past all endurance.
Nay, nay, pray come away.
They're liars and thieves;
And he that believes
Their foolish predictions,
Will find them but fictions,

A bubble that always deceives. [Exeunt.

Re-enter FANNY and Gipsies. Fan. Oh! mercy, dear- The gentleman is so bold, 'tis well if he does not bring us into trouble. Who knows but this may be a justice of peace?-And see, he's following them into the garden!

1 Gip. Well, 'tis all your seeking, Fan.

Fan. We shall have warrants to take us up, I'll be hang'd else. We had better run away; the servants will come out with sticks to lick 1) us.

Lady S. I wish, miss, you would learn to Re-enter MERVIN, with Gipsies. give a rational answer. Mer. Cursed ill fortune-She's gone; and Sir H. Eh! what's that? ¡gipsies! Have we perhaps I shall not have another opportunitygipsies here? Vagrants, that pretend to a know-And you, ye blundering blockhead, I won't ledge of future events; diviners; fortune-tellers! give you a halfpenny-Why did not you clap Fan. Yes, your worship; we'll tell your to the garden door when I called to you, befortune, or her ladyship's, for a crum of bread fore the young lady got in? The key was on or a little broken victuals: what you throw to the outside, which would have given me some your dogs, an please you. time for an explanation.

Sir H. Broken victuals, hussy! How do you 2 Gip. An please your honour, ! was dubus 2) think we should have broken victuals?-If we Mer. Dubus! plague choke ye— However, were at home, indeed, perhaps you might get it is some satisfaction that I have been able some such thing from the cook: but here we to let her see me, and know where I am are only on a visit to a friend's house, and [Turning to the Gipsies]-Go, get you gone, have nothing to do with the kitchen at all. all of you, about your business. Lady S. And do you think, sir Harry, it is necessary to give the creature an account?

Sir H. No, love, no; but what can you say to obstinate people?-Get you gone, bold faceI once knew a merchant's wife in the city, my lady, who had her fortune told by some of those gipsies. They said she should die at such a time; and I warrant, as sure as the day came, the poor gentlewoman actually died with the conceit.-Come, Dossy, your mamma

[Exeunt Gipsies. Theo. [Appears in the Pavilion] Disap peared, fled!-Oh, how unlucky this is! Could he not have patience to wait a moment?

Mer. I know not what to resolve on.
Theo. Hem!

Mer. I'll go back to the garden-door.
Theo. Mr. Mervin!

Mer. What do I see?-Tis she, 'tis se
1) To beat us.
3) Dabivas.


Oh, Theodosia! — Shall I climb the|royster and touzle one so? If Ralph was to wall and come up to you? see you, he'd be as jealous as the vengeance. Mer. Hang Ralph! Never mind him.-There's guinea for thee.

Theo. No; speak softly: sir Harry and my lady sit below, at the end of the walk.-How much am I obliged to you for taking this trouble!


Fan. What, a golden guinea?

Mer. Yes; and if thou art a good girl, and

Mer. When their happiness is at stake, do as I desire thee, thou shalt have twenty. what is it men will not attempt? you love me then.

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Say but

Theo. What proof would you have me give you?-I know but of one: if you please, I am willing to go off with you.

Mer. Are you? Would to heaven I had brought a carriage!

Theo. How did you come?-Have you not horses?

Mer. No; there's another misfortune. - To avoid suspicion, there being but one little public-house in the village, I dispatched my servant with them about an hour ago, to wait for me at a town twelve miles distant, whither I pretended to go; but alighting a mile off, I equipp'd myself and came back as you see: neither can we, nearer than this town, get a post-chaise.

Theo. You say you have made a confidant of the miller's son:-return to your place of rendezvous- My father has been asked this moment, by lord Aimworth, who is in the garden, to take a walk with him down to the mill: they will go before dinner; and it shall

be hard if I cannot contrive to be one of the company.

Mer. And what then?

Theo. Why, in the mean time, you may devise some method to carry me from hence; and I'll take care you shall have an opportunity of communicating it to me.

Mer. Well, but dear Theodosia

Hist, hist! I hear my mother call-
Pr'ythee be gone;
We'll meet anon:
Catch this and this-
Blow me a kiss,

In pledge-promis'd truth, that's all.
Farewell! and yet a moment stay:
Something beside I had to say:
Well, 'tis forgot;
No matter what-
Love grant us grace;
The mill's the place:

She calls again. I must away. Fan. Please your honour, you were so kind as to say you would remember my fellow travellers for their trouble: and they think 1 have gotten the money.

Mer. Oh, here; give them this-[Gives her Money] And for you, my dear little pilot, you have brought me so cleverly through my business, that I must

Fan. Oh, Lord!—your honour-[Mervin kisses her] Pray don't-kiss me again.

Fan. Ay, but not all gold.

Mer. As good as that is.

Fan. Shall I though, if I does as you bids me? Mer. You shall.

Fan. Precious heart! He's a sweet gentleman-Icod, I have a great mind

Mer. What art thou thinking about?
Fan. Thinking, your honour?-Ha, ha, ha!
Mer. Indeed, so merry.

Fan. I don't know what I am thinking
about, not I-Ha, ha, ha?-Twenty guineas!
Mer. I tell thee thou shalt have them.
Fan. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Mer. By heaven, I am serious. Fan. Ha, ha, ha!-Why then I'll do whatever your honour pleases.

Mer. Stay here a little, to see that all keeps quiet: you'll find me presently at the mill, where we'll talk further.

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Ralph. So, Fan, where's the gentleman? Fan. How should I know where he is? What do you ask me for?

Ralph. There's no harm in putting a civil question, be there? Why you look as cross and ill-natured

Fan. Well, mayhap I do- and mayhap I have wherewithal for it.

Ralph. Why, has the gentleman offered any thing uncivil? Ecod, I'd try a bout 1) as soon as look at him.

Fan. He offer!-no-he's a gentleman every inch of him: but you are sensible, Ralph, you have been promising me, a great while, this, and that, and t'other; and, when all comes to all, I don't see but you are like the rest of them. Ralph. Why, what is it I have promised? Fan. To marry me in the church, you have

Mer. Again and again.-There's a thought come into my head.-Theodosia will certainly have no objection to putting on the dress of a hundred times." a sister of mine. So, and so only, we may Ralph. Well, and mayhap I will, if you'll escape to-night.-This girl, for a little money, have patience.

will provide us with necessaries. [Aside. Fan. Patience me no patience; you may

Fan. Dear gracious! I warrant you, now, do it now, if you please.

I am as red as my petticoat: why would you 1) I'll fight with him.

Ralph. Well, but suppose I don't please? so to do: besides, I do partly know why he I tell you, Fan, you're a fool, and want to did it; and I'll fish out the whole conjuration, quarrel with your bread and butter; I have and go up to the castle and tell every syllable: had anger enow from feyther already upon a shan't carry a wench from me, were he your account, and you want me to come by twenty times the mon he is, and twenty times As I said, if you have patience, may-to that again; and moreover than so, the first hap things may fall out, and mayhap not. time I meet un, l'il knock un down, tho'f Fan. With all my heart then; and now I 'twas before my lord himself; and he may know your mind, you may go hang yourself. capias me for it afterwards an he wull.


Ralph. Ay, ay.

Fan. Yes, you may-who cares for you? Ralph. Well, and who cares for you, an you go to that?'

Fan. A menial feller 1)—Go mind your mill and your drudgery; I don't think you worthy to wipe my shoes-feller.

Ralph. Nay but, Fan, keep a civil tongue in your head: odds flesh! I would fain know what fly bites all of a sudden now.

Fan. Marry come up, the best gentlemen's sons in the country have made me proffers! and if one is a miss, be a miss to a gentleman, I say, that will give one fine clothes, and take one to see the show, and put money in one's pocket.

Ralph. Whu, whu-[Fanny hits him a Slap] What's that for?

Fan. What do you whistle for then? Do you think I am a dog?

Ralph. Never from me, Fan, if I have not a mind to give you, with this switch in my hand here, as good a lacing 2)—

Fan. Touch me, if you dare: touch me, and I'll swear my life against you.

Ralph. A murrain! with her damn'd little fist as hard as she could draw.


A I R.

As they count me such a ninny,
So to let them rule the roast;
I'll bet any one a guinea,

They have scor'd without their host.
But if I don't show them, in lieu of it,
A trick that's fairly worth two of it,
Then let me pass for a fool and an ass.
To be sure yon sly cajoler

Thought the work as good as done,
When he found the little stroller

Was so easy to be won.

But if I don't show him, in lieu of it,
A trick that's fairly worth two of it,
Then let me pass for a fool or an ass. [Exit.

SCENE III.-A Room in the Mill; two Chairs,
with a Table and a Tankard of Beer.


Fair. In short, farmer, I don't know what to say to thee. I have spoken to her all I can; but I think children were born to pull the grey hairs of their parents to the grave with sorrow.

and if so, in heaven's name be't: what's one man's meat, as the saying is, is another man's poison; tho'f some might find me well enough to their fancy, set in case I don't suit ber's, why there's no harm done.

Giles. Nay, master Fairfield, don't take on Fan. Well, it's good enough for you: I'm about it: belike miss Pat has another love; not necessitated to take up with the impudence of such a lowliv'd monkey as you are. A gentleman's my friend, and I can have twenty guineas in my hand, all as good as this is. Ralph. Belike from this Londoner, eh? Fan. Yes, from him--so you may take your promise of marriage; I don't value it that[Spits] and if you speak to me, I'll slap your chops again.


Lord, sir, you seem mighty uneasy;
But I the refusal can bear:

I warrant I shall not run crazy,
Nor die in a fit of despair.

If so you suppose, you're mistaken;
For, sir, for to let you to know,

I'm not such a maiden forsaken,

But I have two strings to my bow. [Exit.

Fair. Well but, neighbour, I have put that to her; and the story is, she has no inclination to marry any one; all she desires is, to stay at home and take care of me.

Giles. Master Fairfield—here's towards your good health.

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Fair. Thank thee, friend Giles-and here's towards thine. I promise thee, had things gone as we proposed, thou shouldst have bad one half of what I was worth, to the uttermost farthing.

Giles. Why to be sure, master Fairfield, I but, as to that matter, had I married, it should am not the less obligated to your good will; Ralph. Indeed! Now I'll be judg'd by any not have been for the lucre of gain; but if I soul living in the world, if ever there was a do like a girl, do you see, I do like her; av, viler piece of treachery than this here: a couple and I'll take her, saving respect, if she bad of base, deceitful-after all my love and kind-not a second petticoat.

ness shown. Well, I'll be revenged; see an Fair. Well said- where love is, with a I ben't Master Marvint, that's his name, an little industry, what have a young couple to he do not sham it: he has come here and be afraid of? And, by the lord Harry, for all disguised unself; whereof 'tis contrary to law that's past, I cannot help thinking we shad 1) Fellow.The common people of England have an bring our matters to bear yet-young women, idea that this word means a thief, (the word felon you know, friend Gilesbeing probably pronounced in the french manner, might Giles. Why, that's what I have been thinking with myself, master Fairfield.

have given rise to this idea) and consequently will have it qualified by some well-meaning adjective, when it is used to them, or else they always take it ill. We can say a good, young, fiue, or handsome fellow, but we must be careful of saying the word fellow,


s) Beating.

Fair. Come, then, mend thy draught.— Deuce take me if I let it drop so-But, in any case, don't you go to make yourself uneasy. Giles. Uneasy, master Fairfield; what good

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