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I heard him Jament his fate. Rosina's virtues offended almost past forgiveness. Will the shall not go unrewarded. offer of my hand repair the injury? Bel. If Rosina accepts it, I am satisfied. Ros. [To Belville] Will you, sir, suffer? This hope is a second insult. Whoever offends the object of his love is unworthy of obtaining her.

Dor. Yes, I know'd it would be so. Heaven never forsakes the good man's children. Bel. I have another question to ask you, Dorcas, and answer my sincerely, is her heart free?

Bel. This noble refusal paints your charar

Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of our young men come a near her; and yet-ter. I know another, Rosina, who loves ver Bel. Speak: I am on the rack. with as strong, though purer ardour:-but allowed to hope

Dor. I'm afeard-she mopes and she pines But your honour would be angry-I'm afeard the captain

Ros. Do not, sir, envy me the calm delight of passing my independent days with Bel. Then my foreboding heart was right. Dorcas; in whom I have found a mother's [Aside. tenderness.

Enter RUSTIC.

Rust. Help, for heaven's sake, sir! Rosina's lost-she is carried away— Bel. Rosina!

Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE. Capt. B. [Confusedly] Don't be alarmed— let me go-I'll fly to save her.

Bel. With me, sir-I will not lose sight of you. Rustic, hasten instantly with our reapers. Dorcas, you will be our guide. [Exit. Rust. Don't be frightened, sir; the Irishmen have rescued her: she is just here. [Exit.

Enter the Two Irishmen. 1 Irish. [To Dorcas] Dry your tears, my jewel; we have done for them.

Dor. Have you sav'd her? I owe you more than life.

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Dor. Bless thec, my child; thy kindness melts my heart.

Bel. Do you refuse me too then, Rosina
[Rosina raises her Eyes tenderly on Ber
ville, lowers them again, and leans
Dorcas.

Dor. You, sir? You?

Ros. My confusion-my blushes-
Bel. Then I am happy! My life! my Rosie'
Pho. Do you speak to his honour, William
Will. No; do you speak, Phœbe.

Pho. I am asham'd-William and I, you honour-William pray'd me to let him kee me company-so he gain'd my good will have him; if so be my grandmother consens [Courtesying, and playing with her Apron Will. If your honour would be so good i speak to Dorcas.

Bel. Dorcas, you must not refuse me 22 thing to-day. I'll give William a farm.

Dor Your honour is too kind—take her William, and make her a good husband. Will. That I will, dame.

Will. Pho. [To Belville] Thank your bonour.

Belville joins their Hands, they bow and courtesey.

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 look'd 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 1) her." With
that we ran for the bare life, waded up to as you please.
the knees, laid about us bravely with our
shillelays 2), knock'd them out of the skiff,
and brought her back safe: and here she co-
mes, my jewel.

Re-enter RUSTIC, leading ROSINA, who throws
herself into DORCAS's Arms.
Dor. I canno' speak-Art thou safe?
Bel. I dread to find the criminal.

Will. What must I do with the purse your honour? Dorcas would not take it. Bel. I believe my brother has the best righ Capt. B. 'Tis yours, William; dispose of

Will. Then I'll give it to our honest Irish men, who fought so bravely for our Rosin Bel. You have made good use of it, W liam; nor shall my gratitude stop here.

Capt. B. Allow me to retire, brother. Whe I am worthy of your esteem, I will returns, and demand my rights in your affection.

Bel. You must not leave us, brother. Resume the race of honour; be indeed a s Rust. Your honour need not go far a field, dier, and be more than my brother-be my I believe; it must have been some friend of friend. 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 dishonour'd me, dishonour'd the glorious profession you have embrac'dBut be gone, I renounce you as my brother, and renounce my ill-plac'd friendship. Capt. B. Your indignation is just; I have

1) Rescue.

a) Oak-sticks.-The Irish are famous for the use of the stick; it is generally a piece of oak, and the regular size is as big round as their wrist, and the exact length their arm.

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LOVE IN A VILLAGE,

Comic Opera, by Isaak Bickerstaff. Acted 1762, at Covent Garden. This performance, though compiled from Charles Johnson's Village Opera, Wycherley's Gentleman Dancing-Master, Marivaux's Jeu de l'Amour et du Hazard, and other musical pieces, yet met with so much favour from the town, that it was acted the first season almost as many times as The Beggar's Opera had formerly been, and nearly with as much success. It certainly has the merit of being inoffensive in its tendency, probable in its incidents, spirited in its action, agreeable for its case and regularity, and natural in the delineation of character,

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Ros. HOPE! thou nurse of young desire,
Fairy promiser of joy,

Painted vapour, glowworm fire,
Temp'rate sweet, that ne'er can cloy:
Luc. Hope! thou earnest of delight,
Softest soother of the mind,
Balmy cordial, prospect bright,
Surest friend the wretched find:

Both. Kind deceiver, flatter still,

Deal out pleasures unpossest;
With thy dreams my fancy fill,
And in wishes make me blest.

Luc. Heigho!-Rosetta!

For shame, you a lover!
More firmness discover;

Take courage, nor here longer mope;
Resist and be free,

Run riot, like me,

And, to perfect the picture, elope.
Luc. And is this your advice?
Ros. Positively.

Luc. 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 preliminariesAnd then-But take notice, whenever we decamp, you march off along with us.

Ros. Oh! madam, your servant; I have no inclination to be left behind, I assure youBut 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.

Luc. Never in his life, my dear; and, I am Ros. Well, child, what do you say? confident, he entertains not the least suspicion Luc. 'Tis a sad thing to live in a village a of my having any such connexion: my aunt, hundred miles from the capital, with a pre- indeed, has her doubts and surmises; but, beposterous gouty father, and a superannuated sides that my father will not allow any one maiden aunt.-I am heartily sick of my situation. to be wiser than himself, it is an established Ros. And with reason- -But 'tis in a great maxim between these affectionate relations, measure your own fault: here is this Mr. never to agree in any thing. Eustace, a man of character and family; he likes you, you like him: you know one another's minds, and yet you will not resolve to make yourself happy with him.

AIR.

Whence can you inherit
So slavish a spirit?

Confin'd thus, and chain'd to a log!
Now fondled, now chid,
Permitted, forbid:

'Tis leading the life of a dog.

Ros. Except being absurd; you must allow they sympathize perfectly in that - But, now we are on the subject, I desire to know what I am to do with this wicked old justice of peace, this father of yours? He follows me about the house like a tame goat.

Luc. Nay, I'll assure you he hath been a wag in his time you must have a care of

yourself.

Ros. Wretched me! to fall into such hands, who have been just forced to run away from my parents to avoid an odious marriage

You smile at that now; and I know you think me whimsical, as you have often told me; but you must excuse my being a little over-delicate in this particular.

AIR.

My heart's my own, my will is free,
And so shall be my voice;
No mortal an shall wed with me,
Till first he's made my choice.
Let parents rule, cry nature's laws,
And children still obey;
And is there then no saving clause,
Against tyrannic sway?

Ros. Indeed, Lucinda, you are very silly. Luc. Indeed, Rosetta, that blush makes you look very handsome.

Ros. Blush! I am sure I don't blush.
Luc. Ha, ha, ha!

Ros. Pshaw! Lucinda, how can you be se ridiculous?

Luc. Well, don't be angry, and I have done But suppose you did like him, how could you help yourself? [Exeunt into an Arbour Enter young MEADOWS.

I

Young M. Let me see-on the fifteenth June, at half an hour past five in the morning Luc. Well, but my dear, mad girl- [Taking out a Pocket-book] [left my father's Ros. Lucinda, don't talk to me-Was your house unknown to any one, having made free father to go to London; meet there by acci- with a coat and jacket of our gardener's that dent with an old fellow as wrong-headed as fitted me, by way of a disguise; so says my himself; and, in a fit of absurd friendship, pocket-book: and chance directing me to th agree to marry you to that old fellow's son, village, on the twentieth of the same meat whom you had never seen, without consulting procured a recommendation to the worsh your inclinations, or allowing you a negative, ful justice Woodcock, to be the superintendan in case he should not prove agreeable- of his pumpkins and cabbages, because I weth Luc. Why I should think it a little hard, let my father see, I chose to run any lengt I confess yet, when I see you in the charac- rather than submit to what his obstinacy wo ter of a chambermaidhave forced me, a marriage against my Ros. Is is the only character, my dear, in clination, with a woman I never saw. [Pa which I could hope to lie concealed; and, I up the Book, and takes up a Waterins can tell you, I was reduced to the last ex-pot] Here I have been three weeks, and in tremity, when, in consequence of our old that time I am as much altered as if a boarding-school friendship, I applied to you to changed my nature with my habit.-'Sd receive me in this capacity; for we expected to fall in love with a chambermaid: And ye the parties the very next week. if I could forget that I am the son and of Sir William Meadows. But that's impossib'a

Luc. 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?

Ros. 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?

AIR.

O! had I been by fate decreed

Some humble cottage swain;
In fair Rosetta's sight to feed

W

My sheep upon the plain;
What bliss had I been born to taste,
Which now I ne'er must know!
Ye envious powers! why have ye place
My fair one's lot so low?

Luc. Then you are not at all uneasy at the strange rout you must have occasioned at Ha! who was it I had a glimpse of as I pas home? I warrant, during this month you have by that arbour? Was it not she sat reading been absentthere? the trembling of my heart tells me m Ros. Oh! don't mention it, my dear; I have eyes were not inistaken-Here she comes. had so many admirers, since I commenced [Retires. Rosetta comes d Abigail ), that I am quite charmed with my from the Arbour. situation-But hold, who stalks yonder in the Ros. Lucinda was certainly in the rigit yard, that the dogs are so glad to see? it; and yet I blush to own my weakness ever Luc. Daddy Hawthorn, as I live! He is to myself -- Marry, hang the fellow for Ev come to pay my father a visit; and never being a gentleman.

more luckily, for he always forces him abroad. Young M. I am determined I won't sa By the way, what will you do with yourself to her. [Turning to a Rose-tree, and plucher. while I step into the house to see after my the Flowers] Now or never is the time trusly messenger, Hodge? conquer myself: besides, I have some reas Ros. No matter; I'll sit down in that arbour, to believe the girl has no aversion to me: an and listen to the singing of the birds: you as I wish not to do her an injury, it wea know I am fond of melancholy amusements. be cruel to fill her head with notions of wi Luc. So it seems, indeed: sure, Rosetta, can never happen. [Hums a Tune] Pshaw none of your admirers had power to touch rot these roses, how they prick one's finger your heart; you are not in love, I hope? Ros. le takes no notice of me; but

as

Ros. In love! that's pleasant: who do you much the better; I'll be as indifferent suppose I should be in love with, pray? is. I am sure the poor lad likes me; and: Luc. Why, let me see-What do you think I was to give him any encouragement, I su of Thomas, our gardener? There he is at the pose the next thing he talked of would b other end of the walk - He's a pretty young buying a ring, and being asked in churchman, and the servants say, he's always writing Oh, dear pride, I thank you for that thongs Young M. Hah, going without a word! look!-I can't bear that Mrs. Rosetta, I a

verses on you.

a) Servant-maid,

gathering a few roses here, if you please to Haw. Am I here? Yes: and, if you had ake them in with you. been where I was three hours ago, you would Ros. Thank you, Mr. Thomas, but all my find the good effects of it by this time: but ady's flower-pots are full. you have got the lazy, unwholesome, London Young M. Will you accept of them for fashion of lying abed in a morning, and there's ourself, then? [Catching hold of her] What's gout for you-Why, sir, I have not been in e matter? you look as if you were angry bed five minutes after sunrise these thirty ith me.

Ros. Pray let go my hand.

Young M. Nay, pr'ythee, why is this? you
Jan't ჭი, I have something to say to you.
Ros. Well, but I must go, I will go; I de-
re, Mr. Thomas-

AIR.

Gentle youth, ah, tell me why
Still you force me thus to fly?
Cease, oh! cease to persevere;
Speak not what I must not hear;
To my heart its ease restore;
Go, and never see me more.

years, am generally up before it; and I never took a dose of physic but once in my life, and that was in compliment to a cousin of mine, an apothecary, that had just set up business. Jus. W. Well but, master Hawthorn, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter; for, I say, sleep is necessary for a man; ay, and I'll maintain it.

Haw. What, when I maintain the contrary?-Look you, neighbour Woodcock, you are a rich man, a man of worship, a justice of peace, and all that; but learn to know the respect that is due to the sound from the in[Exit. firm; and allow me that superiority a good Young M. This girl is a riddle-That she constitution gives me over you-Health is the ves me I think there is no room to doubt; greatest of all possessions; and 'tis a maxim e takes a thousand opportunities to let me with me, that a hale cobler is a better man e it: and yet, when I speak to her, she will than a sick king.

rdly give me an answer; and, if I attempt Jus. W. Well, well, you are a sportsman. e smallest familiarity, is gone in an instant- Haw. And so would you be too, if you feel my passion for her grow every day would take my advice. A sportsman! why ore and more violent-Well, would I marry there is nothing like it: I would not exchange r? would I make a mistress of her if I the satisfaction I feel, while I am beating the uld?-Two things, called prudence and lawns and thickets about my little farm, for nour, forbid either. What am I pursuing, all the entertainment and pageantry in Christen? A shadow. Sure my evil genius laid endom. is snare in my way. However, there is one mfort, it is in my power to fly from it; if , why do I hesitate? I am distracted, unable determine any thing.

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nter HAWTHORN, with a Fowlingpiece in

AIR.

Let gay ones and great,

Make the most of their fate,
From pleasure to pleasure they run;
Well, who cares a jot,

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Hodge. Did your worship call, sir?

Jus. W. Call, sir; where have you and the

his Hands, and a Net with Birds at his rest of these rascals been? but I suppose I Girdle.

AIR.

There was a jolly miller once,

Liv'd on the river Dee;

need not ask You must know there is a statute, a fair for hiring servants, held upon my green to-day; we have it usually at this season of the year, and it never fails to put

He work'd and sung from morn till night; all the folks hereabout out of their senses.

No lark more blithe 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.

Hodge. Lord, your honour, look out, and see what a nice show they make yonder; they had got pipers, and fiddlers, and were dancing as I came along, for dear life-I never saw such a mortal throng in our village in all my all born days again.

ouse, here, house! what all gadding,
road! house, I say, hilli-ho, ho!
Jus. W. [Without] Here's a noise, here's
racket! William, Robert, Hodge! why does
t somebody answer? Odds my life, I believe
e fellows have lost their hearing!

Enter JUSTICE WOODCOCK.

Haw. Why, I like this now, this is as it should be.

Jus. W. 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

b, master Hawthorn! I guessed it was some authorized already; for by an act passed Anno ch madcap-Are you there?

undecimo Caroli primi, which empowers a

justice of peace, who is lord of the manor-
Haw, Come, come, never mind the act; let
me tell you, this is a very proper, a very use-
ful 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.

Luc. So! give it me.

[Reads the Letter to herself, Hodge. Lord a inercy! how my arm achs with beating that plaguy beast: I'll be hang'd if I won'na' rather ha' thrash'd half a day, than ha' ridden her.

Luc. Well, Hodge, you have done your business very well.

Jus. W. I wish, master Hawthorn, I could Hodge. Well, have not I now? teach you to be a little more sedate: why Luc. Yes-Mr. Eustace tells me in this letter, won't you take pattern by me, and consider that he will be in the green lane, at the other your dignity? Odds heart, I don't wonder end of the village, by twelve o'clock - You you are not a rich man; you laugh too much know where he came before. ever to be rich.

Haw. Right, neighbour Woodcock! health, good humour, and competence, is my motto: and, if my executors have a mind, they are welcome to make it my epitaph.

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Hodge. Been, ay, I ha' been far enough, an that be all: you never knew any thing fall out so crossly in your born days.

Luc. Why, what's the matter?

Hodge. Ay, ay.

Luc. Well, you must go there; and wat till he arrives, and watch your opportunity t introduce him, across the fields, into the like summer-house, on the left side of the garden Hodge. That's enough.

Luc. But take particular care that nobod sees you.

Hodge. I warrant you.

Luc. Nor for your life drop a word of to any mortal.

Hodge. Never fear me.
Luc. And, Hodge-

AIR.-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?

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 head from a carre!

[Ex

Hodge. Why you know, I dare not take a horse out of his worship's stables this morning, for fear it should be missed, and breed questions; and our old nag at home was so cruelly beat i'th' hoofs, that, poor beast, it had not a foot to set to ground; so I was fain to go to Luc. How severe is my case! Here I am farmer Ploughshare's, at the Grange, to bor- obliged to carry on a clandestine corresponden row the loan of his bald filly; and, would you with a man in all respects my equal, because think it? after walking all that way-de'el from the oddity of my father's temper is such, that me, if the crossgrained toad did not deny me I dare not tell him I have ever yet seen the I should like to marry But perhaps person he has quality in his eye, and hopes, or other, as I am his only child, to match t with a title-vain imagination!

the favour.

Luc. Unlucky!

Hodge. Well, then I went my ways to the King'shead in the village, but all their cattle were at plough: and I was as far to seck below at the turnpike: so at last, for want of a better, I was forced to take up with dame Quickset's blind mare.

Luc. Oh, then you have been?
Hodge. Yes, yes, I ha' been.

Luc. Pshaw! Why did not you say so at once?

Hodge. Ay, but I have had a main tiresome jaunt on't, for she is a sorry jade at best. Luc. Well, well, did you see Mr. Eustace, and what did he say to you?-Come, quick— have you e'er a letter?

Hodge. Yes, he gave me a letter, if I ha'na' lost it.

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AIR.

Cupid, god of soft persuasion,

Take the helpless lover's part:
Seize, oh seize some kind occasion,
To reward a faithful heart.

Justly those we tyrants call,
Who the body would enthral;
Tyrants of more cruel kind,
Those, who would enslave the mind.
What is grandeur? foe to rest,
Childish mummery at best.
Happy I in humble state;
Catch, ye fools, the glittering bait.

one da

SCENE III-A Field with a Stile.

Enter HODGE, followed by MADGE. Hodge. What does the wench follow m for? Odds flesh, folk may well talk, to see you

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