churl of the wheat, whate'er he may be of the barley. Bel. [Looking after ROSINA.] What bewitching softness! There is a blushing, bashful gentleness, an almost infantine innocence, in that lovely countenance, which it is impossible to behold without emotion! She turns this way: what bloom on that cheek! 'Tis the blushing down of the peach. Her mouth, which a smile, Half opens to view, Or the blossoms of May. Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE in a riding dress. Capt. B. Good morrow, brother; you are early abroad. Bel. My dear Charles, I am happy to see you. True, I find, to the first of September. Capt. B. I meant to have been here last night, but one of my wheels broke, and I was obliged to sleep at a village six miles distant, where I left my chaise, and took a boat down the river at daybreak. But your corn is not off the ground. Bel. You know our harvest is late in the north; but you will find all the lands cleared on the other side the mountain. Capt. B. And pray, brother, how are the partridges this season? Bel. There are twenty covies within sight of my house, and the dogs are in fine order. Capt. B. The gamekeeper is this moment leading them round. I am fired at the sight. By dawn to the downs we repair, Fire away! whilst loud echo replies Fire away! Hark! the volley resounds to the skies! Whilst echo in thunder replies! In thunder replies, And resounds to the skies, Fire away! Fire away! Fire away! But where is my little rustic charmer? O! there she is: I am transported. [Aside.] Pray, brother, is not that the little girl, whose dawning beauty we admired so much last year? Bel. It is, and more lovely than ever. I shall dine in the field with my reapers to-day, brother: will you share our rural repast, or have a dinner prepared at the manor-house? Capt. B. By no means: pray let me be of your party: your plan is an admirable one, especially if your girls are handsome. I'll walk round the field, and meet you at dinner time. [Exeunt BELVILLE and RUSTIC. CAPTAIN BELVILLE goes up to ROSINA, gleans a few | ears, and presents them to her; she refuses them, and runs out; he follows her. Enter WILLIAM, speaking at the Side-scene. Will. Lead the dogs back, James; the captain won't shoot to-day. Seeing RUSTIC and PHEBE behind.] Indeed, so close! I don't half like it. Enter RUSTIC and PHEBE. Rust. That's a good girl! do as I bid you, and you sha'n't want encouragement. [He goes up to the Reapers, and WILLIAM comes forward. Will. O no, I dare say she won't. So, Mrs. Phebe! Phe. And so, Mr. William, if you go to that! Will. A new sweetheart, I'll be sworn; and a pretty comely lad he is: but he's rich, and that's enough to win a woman. Phe. 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 my last prayers; but you may find yourself mistaken. belike that I did not see you take that posy from Will. You do right to cay out first; you think Harry. Phe. And you, belike, that I did not catch you the miller's maid; but I'll be fooled no longer; I tying up one, of corn-flowers and wild roses, for have done with you, Mr. William. The miller's maid loves the ground I walk on. Will. I sha'n't break my heart, Mrs. Phebe. Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled to fifty fair maids, And chang'd them as oft, d'ye see; But of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, The maid of the mill for me. Phe. There's fifty young men have told me fine tales, And called me the fairest she; But of all the gay wrestlers that sport on the green, Young Harry's the lad for me. Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the hedge, Her face like the blossoms in May. Her teeth are as white as the new-shorn flock. Her breath like the new-made hay. Phe. He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree, His cheeks are as fresh as the rose; He looks like a squire of high degree When dress'd in his Sunday clothes. Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled, &c. Phe. There's fifty young men, &c. [Exeunt on different sides of the stage. ROSINA runs across the Stage; CAPTAIN BELVILLE following her. 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. Capt. B. Prodigiously. Rust. But why give me money, Sir. Capt. B. Only to tell Rosina there is a per Ros. Would it give you pleasure to see me pass son who is very much interested in her happiness. 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. 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, inclined him to succour youth. Dor. 'Tis very kind.And old age- [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. I thought as much. A vile, wicked man! [Aside. Capt. B. Beauty like hers 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, Sír. If I must be a trouble to the dear child, I had rather owe my bread to her labour than to 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, crossing the stage. A word with you, Rustic. Rust. I am in a great hurry, your honour; I am going to hasten dinner. Capt. B. I sha'n't keep you a minute. Take these five guineas. Rust. For whom, Sir? Capt. B. For yourself. And this purse. Capt. B. For Rosina; they say she is in distress, and wants assistance. Rust. What pleasure it gives me to see you so haritable! You are just like your brother. Rust. How much you will please his honour by this. He takes mightily to Rosina, and prefers her to all the young women in the parish. Capt. B. Prefers her! Ah! you sly rogue! [Laying his hand on RUSTIC's shoulder. Rust. Your honour's a wag; but I'm sure I meant no harm. Capt. B. Give her the money, and tell her she shall never want a friend; but not a word to my brother. Rust. All's safe, your honour. [Exit CAPTAIN BELVILLE.] I don't vastly like this business. At the captain's age, this violent charity is a little duberous. I am his honour's servant, and it's my duty to hide nothing from him. I'll go seek his honour; O, here he comes. Enter BELVILLE. Bel. Well, Rustic, have you any intelligence to communicate? Rust. A vast deal, Sir. Your brother begins to make good use of his money; he has given me these five guineas for myself, and this purse for Rosina. Bel. For Rosina! 'Tis plain he loves her. [Aside.] 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, Rust. I understand your honour. Bel. Have you gained any intelligence in respect to Rosina? Rust. 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. Enter DORCAS, ROSINA, and PHEBE. Bel. But I don't see Rosina. Dorcas, you must come too, and Phebe. Dor. We can't deny your honour. Bel. By this fountain's flowery side, Ros. & Bel. Taste our pleasures ye who may, Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may, Capt. B. Blushing Bell, with downcast eyes, Cho. Taste our pleasures ve who may, Dor. Good lack! What is here! a purse, as 1 Will. He is fond, and she is shy; By and by she 'll follow thee. Cho. Basy censors, hence away; This is Nature's holiday. live! Ros. How! Dor. Come, and see; 'tis a purse indeed. Ros. Heavens! 'tis full of gold. Dor. We must put up a bill at the church-gate, and restore it to the owner. The best way is to Rust. & Dor. Now we'll quaff the nut-brown ale, carry the money to his honour, and get him to keep Then we'll tell the sportive tale; All is jest, and all is glee, All is youthful jollity. Cho. Taste our pleasures ye who may, Phe. Cho. Lads and lasses all advance, Carol blithe, and form the dance; Trip it lightly while you may, [All rise; the Dancers come down the stage. ACT II. SCENE I-The Same. Enter RUSTIC. I Rust. This purse is the plague of my life; hate money when it is not my own. I'll e'en put in the five guineas he gave me for myself: I don't want it, and they do. They certainly must find it there. But I hear the cottage door open. [Retires a little. Enter DORCAS and ROSINA from the Cottage, DORCAS with a great basket on her arm, filled with skeins of thread. Dor. I am just going, Rosina, to carry this thread to the weaver's. Ros. This basket is too heavy for you: pray let me carry it. [Takes the basket from DORCAS, and sets it [Peevishly. Ros. If you love me, only take half; this evening, or to-morrow morning, I will carry the rest. -[Takes part of the skeins out of the basket and lays them on the bench, looking affectionately on DORCAS. There, be angry with me, if you please. Dor. No, my sweet lamb, I am not angry; but beware of men. Ros. Have you any doubts of my conduct, Dorcas. Go back to the reapers, whilst I carry this thread. Dor. But as I walk but slow, and 'tis a good way, you may chance to be at home before me; so take the key. Ros. I will. Capt. B. [Aside, while DORCAS feels in her pockets for the key.] 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 foor. [While she is locking the door, Dorcas, going to take up the basket, sees the purse. it till the owner is found. You shall go with it, love. Ros. Pray excuse me, I always blush so. Dor. 'Tis nothing but childishness; but his honour will like your bashfulness better than too much courage. [Exit. Ros. I cannot support his presence-my embarrassment-my confusion-a stronger sensation than that of gratitude agitates my heart.-Yet hope in my situation were madness. Sweet transports, gentle wishes, go! In vain his charms have gain'd my heart; And cruel, duty bid us part. Ah! why does duty claim the mind, Pray, William, do you know of any body that has Will. I knows nothing about it. Ros. Dorcas, however, has found one. Will. So much the better for she. Ros. You will oblige me very much if will you carry it to Mr. Belville, and beg him to keep it till the owner is found. Will. Since you desire it, I'll go; it sha'n't be the lighter for my carrying. Ros. That I am sure of, William. Enter PHEBE. [Exit. Phe. There's William; but I'll pretend not to see him. Henry cull'd the floweret's bloom, Had playful kiss'd, but prudence near Simple Marian, ah! beware; [Throws away her nosegay. 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. Phe. That's a copy of his countenance, I'm sartin; he can no more help following me nor he can be hang'd. (Aside; WILLIAM crosses again, singing. Of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, The maid of the mill for me. Phe. I'm 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. Will. Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the hedge, Her face like the blossoms in May. Phe. I can't bear it no longer-you vile, ungrateful, parfidious-But it's no matter-I can't think what I could see in you-Harry loves me, and is a thousand times more handsomer. [Sings, sobbing at every word. Of all the gay wrestlers that sport on the green, Young Harry's the lad for me. Will. He's yonder a reaping, shall I call him? [Offers to go. Phe. My grandmother leads me the life of a dog; and it's all along of you. Will. Well, then she'll be better tempered now. Phe. I did not value her scolding a brass farthing, when I thought as how you were true to me. Will. Wasn't I true to you? Look in my face, and say that. When bidden to the wake or fair, The joy of each free-hearted swain, If chance some fairing caught her eye, For what is gold compar'd to love? Could Harry's sweeter scents exhale? And gold, alas! has banish'd love. [Cries, wiping her eyes with her apron. Will. My heart begins to melt a little. [Aside.] I lov'd you very well once, Phebe; but you are grown so cross, and have such vagaries Phe. 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. Phe. [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? Phe. 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, or a harvest-home? Phe. 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 I meet her. Phe. Will you indeed, and indeed? Will. Marry will I and more nor that, I'll go speak to the parson this moment I'm happier -zooks, I'm happier nor a lord or a 'squire of five hundred a year. Phe. In gaudy courts, with aching hearts, The hills may higher honours claim, Will. See high-born dames, in rooms of state, No youth admires their fading charms, Both. Amid the shades the virgin's sighs [Exeunt, arm in arm. Enter BELVILLE. has made on my heart. My cheerfulness has left Bel. I tremble at the impression this lovely girl cious pleasure of making those happy who depend me, and I am grown insensible even to the deli on my protection. Ere bright Rosina met my eyes, How peaceful pass'd the joyous day! Lost to myself, to mirth, and ease. Its boughs extended o'er the plain, Nor charms the eye, nor shades the swain. 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 by the fountain. [Gleaners pass the Stage, with sheaves of Corn on their heads; last ROSINA, who comes forward singing. Ros. Light as thistle-down moving, which floats on the air, Sweet gratitude's debt to this cottage I bear; heart. softly-at this moment I may gaze on him withWhat do I see? Mr. Belville asleep? I'll steal softly up to him.] The sun points full on this out blushing. [Lays down the corn, and walks spot; let me fasten these branches together with that will do-But if he should wake-[Takes the this riband, and shade him from its beams-yesRiband 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 raising himself. Ros. He is angry-How unhappy I am!How I tremble. [Aside. Bel. This riband I have seen before, and on the lovely Rosina's bosom [He rises, and goes toward the Cottage. Ros. I will hide myself in the house. [ROSINA, opening the door, sees CAPTAIN 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 afrighted across the Stage; BELVILLE follows; CAPTAIN BEL VILLE, who comes out to pursue her, sees his brother, and steals off at the other Scene; BELVILLE leads ROSINA back. Bel. Why do you fly thus, Rosina? What can you fear? You are out of breath. Ros. O, Sir!-my strength fails-[Leans on BELVILLE, who supports her in his arms.] Where is he?-A gentleman pursued me [Looking round. Bel. Don't be alarmed, 'twas my brotherhe 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 riband? lament his fate. Rosina's virtues shall not go unrewarded. 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, Dor Ros. Forgive me, Sir; I did not mean to dis-cas, and answer me sincerely; is her heart free? turb 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? Taking her hand.] For you, my sweet maid, nay, be not afraid, [Rosina withdraws it. I feel an affection which yet wants a name. Ros. When first-but in vain—I seek to explain, 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, [guide. Be you my protector, my guardian, my Bel. Why thus timid, &c. Ros. My timid heart pants, &c. Bel. Unveil your mind to me, Rosina. The graces of your form, the native dignity of your mind, which breaks through the lovely simplicity of your deportment, a thousand circumstances concur to convince me you were not born a villager. 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. A Dor. To be sure, she never would let any of our young men come a near her; and yetBel. Speak: I am on the rack. Dor. I'm afeard-she mopes and she pines.But your honour would be angry-I'm afeard the captainBel. Then my foreboding heart was right. Enter RUSTIC. [Aside. 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 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, Ros. Dorcas approaches, Sir; she can best re- going home, when we saw them first; and hearlate my melancholy story. Enter DORCAS. Dor. His honour here? Good lack! How sorry I am I happened to be from home. Troth, I'm sadly tired. Bel. Will you let me speak with you a moment alone, Dorcas? Dor. Rosina, take this basket. [Exit ROSINA with the basket. Bel. 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 ady, was my bountiful old master's daughter, 'Squire Welford, of Lincolnshire. His estate was seized for a mortgage of not half its value, just after young madam was married, and she ne'er got a penny of her portion. Bel. And her father? Dor. Was a brave gentleman too, a colonel. His honour went to the Eastern Indies, to better his fortune, and madam would go with 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 ear child has shared my poor morsel. Bel. But her father's name? Dor. Martin; Colonel Martin. Bel. I am too happy; he was the friend of my father's heart: a thousand times have I heard him ing 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. Pa trick," says I, "there's enough of us to rescute her." With that we ran for the bare life, waded up to the knees. laid about us bravely with our shillelays, knocked them out of the skiff, and brought her back safe: and here she comes, my jewel. Re-enter RUSTIC, leading ROSINA, who throws herself into DORCAS' arms. Dor. I canno' speak -Art thou safe? Rust. Your honour need not go far a field, 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 forgiveness. Will the 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. Bel. This noble refusal paints your character. I know another, Rosina, who loves you with as |