Hodge. Adwawns, they are coming here! ecod, I'll get out of the way; Murrain take it, this door is bolted now-so, so.

Enter MRS. DEBORAH, WOODCOCK, driving in

LUCINDA before her.

Mrs. D. Get along, get along; you are a scandal to the name of Woodcock; but I was resolved to find you out; for I have suspected you a great while, though your father, silly man, will have you such a poor innocent.

Luc. What shall I do? (Aside.)

Mrs. D. I was determined to discover what you and your pretended music-master were about, and lay in wait on purpose: I believe he thought to escape me, by slipping into the closet when I knocked at the door; but I was even with him; for now I have him under lock and key; and please the fates there he shall remain till your father comes in: I will convince him of his error, whether he will or not.

Luc. You won't be so cruel, I'm sure you won't: I thought I had made you my friend by telling you the truth.

Mrs. D. Telling me the truth, quotha! did I not overhear your scheme of running away to-night, through the partition? did I not find the very bundles pack'd up in the room with you, ready for going off? No, brazen-face, I found out the truth by my own sagacity, though your father says I am a fool, but now we'll be judged who is the greatest; and you, Mr. Rascal; my brother shall know what an honest servant he has got. Hodge. Madamn!

Mrs. D. You were to have been aiding and assisting them in their escape, and have been the gobetween, it seems; the letter-carrier !

Hodge. Who? me, madam!

Mrs. D. Yes, you, sirrah.

Hodge. Miss Lucinda, did I ever carry a letter for you? I'll make my affidavy before his worship-Mrs. D. Go, go, you are a villain; hold your tongue.

Luc. I own, aunt, I have been very faulty in this affair; I-don't pretend to excuse myself; but we are all subject to frailties; consider that, and judge of me by yourself; you were once young and inexperienced as I am.

Mrs. D. This is mighty pretty, romantic stuff! but you learn it out of your play-books and novels. Girls in my time had other employments, we worked at our needles, and kept ourselves from idle thoughts; before I was your age, I had finished, with my own fingers, a complete set of chairs and a fire-screen in tent-stitch, four counterpanes in Marseilles quilting, and the Creed and the Ten Commandments in the hair of our family; it was framed and glaz'd, and hung over the parlour chimney-piece, and your poor, dear grandfather was prouder of it than e'er a picture in his house. I never looked into a book, but when I said my prayers, except it was the Complete Housewife, or the great Family Receipt Book: whereas, you are always at your studies! Ah! I never knew a woman come to good, that was fond of reading.

Luc. Well pray, madam, let me prevail on you to give me the key to let Mr. Eustace out, and I Prosiness without your advice and approbation. I never will proceed a step further in this Mrs. D. Have not I told you already, my reso Tution? are my clogs and my bonnet? I'll go out to my brother in the fields; I'm a fool, you know, child; now let's see what the wits will think of themselves. Don't hold me. [Exit.

Luc. I'm not going; I have thought of a way to be even with you, so you may do as you please.

[Exit.

Hodge. Well, I thought it would come to this, I'll be shot if I didn't; so, here's a fine job: but what can they do to me? They can't send me to gaol for carrying a letter, seeing, there was no treason in it; and how was I obliged to know my master did not allow of their meetings? The worst they can do, is to turn me off, and I am sure the place is no such great purchase; indeed, I should be sorry to leave Mrs. Rosetta, seeing as how matters are so near being brought to an end betwixt us; but she and I may keep company all as one and I find Madge has been speaking with Gaffer Broadwheels, the waggoner, about her carriage up to London; so that I have got rid of she, and I am sure I have reason to be main glad of it, for she led me a wearisome life; but that's the way with them all.

Young M. Forgive me, sir; I own I have been in fault.

Sir W. In fault! to run away from me because I was going to do you good. May I never do an ill turn, Mr. Hawthorn, if I did not pick out as fine a girl for him, partly, as any in England! and the rascal ran away from me, and came here and turn'd gardener. And pray what did you propose to yourself, Tom? I know you were always fond of botany, as they call it: did you intend to keep the trade going, and advertise fruit-trees and flowering-shrubs, to be had at Meadows' nursery ? Haw. No, sir William, I apprehend the young gentleman designed to lay by the profession; for he has quitted the habit already.

Young M. I am so astonished to see you here, sir, that I don't know what to say: but I assure you, if you had not come, I should have returned home directly. Pray, sir, how did you find me out? Sir W. No matter, Tom, no matter: it was partly by accident as a body may say; but what does that signify? Tell me, boy, how stands your stomach towards matrimony: do you think you could digest a wife now?

Young M. Pray, sir, don't mention it: I shall always behave myself as a dutiful son ought: I will never marry without your consent, and I hope you won't force me to do it against my own.

Sir W. Is not this mighty provoking, master Hawthorn? Why, sirrah, did you ever see the lady I designed for you?

Young M. Sir, I don't doubt the lady's merit; but, at present I am not disposed

Haw. Nay but, young gentleman, fair and softly; you should pay some respect to your father in this

matter.

Sir W. Respect, master Hawthorn! I tell you he shall marry her, or I'll disinherit him! there's once. Look you, Tom, not to make any more words of the matter, I have brought the lady here with me, and I'll see you contracted before we part; or you shall delve and plant cucumbers as long as you live.

Young M. Have you brought the lady here, sir? I am sorry for it.

Sir W. Why sorry? What, then, you won't marry her? We'll see that! Pray, master Hawthorn, conduct the fair one in. [Exit Hawthorn.] Ay, sir, you may fret and dance about, trot at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, if you please; but, marry whip me, I'm resolved.

Enter HAWTHORN and ROSETTA.

Haw. Here is the lady, sir William.

Sir W. Come in, madam; but turn your face from him; he would not marry you because he had not seen you: but I'll let him know my choice shall be his, and he shall consent to marry you be

fore he sees you, or not an acre of estate. Pray,

sir, walk this way.

Young M. Sir, I cannot help thinking your conduct a little extraordinary; but since you urge me so closely, I must tell you my affections are engaged.

Sir W. How, Tom, how? And pray, sir, who are your affections engaged to? Let me know that. Young M. To a person, sir, whose rank and fortune may be no recommendation to her, but whose charms and accomplishments entitle her to a monarch. I am sorry, sir, it's impossible for me to comply with your commands, and I hope you will not be offended if I quit your presence.

Sir W. Not I, not in the least: go about your business.

Young M, Sir, I obey.

Haw. Now, madam, is the time. (Rosetta advances. Young Meadows turns round and sees her.)

AIR.-ROSETTA.

When we see a lover languish,
And his truth and honour prove,
Ah! how sweet to heal his anguish,
And repay him love for love.

Sir W. Well, Tom, will you go away from me now?

Haw. Perhaps, sir William, your son does not like the lady; and, if so, pray don't put a force upon his inclination.

Young M. You need not have taken this method, sir, to let me see you are acquainted with my folly, whatever my inclinations are.

Sir W. Well but, Tom, suppose I give my consent to your marrying this young woman? Young M. Your consent, sir?

Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, Tom, if it is not truth! this is my friend's daughter. Young M. Sir!

Ros. Even so; 'tis very true, indeed. In short, you have not been a more whimsical gentleman, than I have a gentlewoman; but you see we are designed for one another, 'tis plain.

Young M. I know not, madam, what I either hear or see; a thousand things are crowding on my imagination, while, like one just awakened from a dream, I doubt which is reality, which delusion.

Sir W. Well then, Tom, come into the air a bit, and recover yourself.

Young M. Nay, dear sir, have a little patience; do you give her to me?

Sir W. Give her to you! ay, that I do, and my blessing into the bargain.

Young M. Then, sir, I am the happiest man in the world! I inquire no further; here I fix the utmost limits of my hopes and happiness.

And, under favour, I'll salute you too, if there's Haw. Give you joy, sir; and yon, fair lady. no fear of jealousy.

Young M. And may I believe this? Pr'ythee tell me, dear Rosetta!

Ros. Step into the house, and I'll tell you everything; I must entreat the good offices of sir William and Mr. Hawthorn immediately: for I am in the utmost uneasiness about my poor friend, Lucinda. Haw. Why, what's the matter?

Ros. I don't know; but I have reason to fear I left her just now in very disagreeable circumstances; however, I hope if there's any mischief fallen out between her father and her lover

Haw. The music-master! I thought so. Sir W. What, is there a lover in the case? May I never do an ill turn, but I am glad, so I am! for

Jus. W. Well, you hear what they say. Mrs. D. I care not what they say; it's you encourage them in their impudence. Harkye, hussy, will you face me down that I did not lock the fellow up?

Luc. Really, aunt, I don't know what you mean; when talk intelligibly, I'll answer you.

you

Eust. Seriously, madam, this is carrying the jest a little too far.

Mrs. D. What, then, I did not catch you together in her chamber, nor overhear your design of going off to-night, nor find the bundles packed up Eust. Ha, ha, ha!

Luc. Why, aunt, you rave.

Mrs. D. Brother, as I am a Christian woman, she confessed the whole affair to me from first to last; and in this very place was down upon her marrow-bones for half an hour together, to beg I would conceal it from you.

Hodge. Oh Lord! Oh Lord!

Mrs. D. What, sirrah, would you brazen me too! Take that. (Boxes his ears.)

Hodge. I wish you would keep your hands to yourself! You strike me, because you have been telling his worship stories.

Jus. W. Why, sister, you are tipsy!

Mrs. D. I tipsy, brother! I-that never touch a drop of anything strong from year's end to year's end; but now and then a little aniseed water, when I have got the cholic.

Luc. Well, aunt, you have been complaining of the stomach-ach all day; and may have taken too powerful a dose of your cordial.

Jus. W. Come, come, I see well enough how it is: this is a lie of her own invention, to make herself appear wise: but, you simpleton, did you not know I must find you out?

Enter SIR WILLIAM MEADOWS, HAWTHORN, ROSETTA, and Young MEADOWS.

Young M. Bless me, sir! look who is yonder. Sir W. Cocksbones! Jack, honest Jack, are you there?

Eust. Plague on't, this rencounter is unlucky; sir William, your servant.

Sir W. Your servant, again and again, heartily your servant; may I never do an ill turn, but I am glad to meet you.

Jus. W. Pray, sir William, are you acquainted with this person?

Sir W. What, with Jack Eustace? why he's my kinsman: his mother and I were cousin-germans once removed, and Jack's a very worthy young fellow; may I never do an ill turn, if I tell a word

of a lie.

Jus. W. Well but, sir William, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter; this man is a music-master; a thrummer of wire, and a scraper of catgut, and teaches my daughter to sing.

Sir W. What, Jack Eustace a music-master! no, no; I know him better.

Eust. 'Sdeath, why should I attempt to carry on this absurd farce any longer: what that gentleman tells you is very true, sir; I am no musicmaster, indeed.

Jus. W. You are not? you own it then?

Eust. Nay more, sir, I am, as this lady has represented me, (pointing to Mrs. Deborah,)—your daughter's lover: whom, with her own consent, I did intend to have carried off this night; but now that sir William Meadows is here, to tell you who and what I am, I throw myself upon your generosity; from which I expect greater advantages than I could reap from any imposition on your unsuspicious nature.

Mrs. D. Well, brother, what have you to say for yourself now? You have made a precious day's work of it! Had my advice been taken-Oh, I am ashamed of you; but you are a weak man, and it can't be help'd; however, you should let wiser heads direct you.

Luc. Dear papa, pardon me.

Sir W. Ay, do, sir, forgive her; my cousin Jack will make her a good husband, I'll answer for it.

Ros. Stand out of the way, and let me speak two or three words to his worship. Come, my dear sir, though you refuse all the world, I am sure you can deny me nothing: love is a venial fault. You know what I mean. Be reconciled to your daughter, I conjure you, by the memory of our past affections. What, not a word?

AIR.

Go, naughty man, I can't abide you;
Are then your vows so soon forgot?
Ah! now I see if I had tried you,

What would have been my hopeful lot.

But here I charge you,-make them happy; Bless the fond pair, and crown their bliss: Come, be a dear, good-natur'd pappy,

And I'll reward you with a kiss.

Mrs. D. Come, turn out of the house, and be thankful that my brother does not hang you, for he could do it; he's a justice of peace; turn out of the house, I say :

Jus. W. Who gave you authority to turn him out of the house? he shall stay where he is. Mrs. D. He shan't marry my niece.

Jus. W. Shan't he? but I'll show you the difference now; I say he shall marry her, and what will you do about it?

Mrs. D. And you will give him your estate too, will you?

Jus. W. Yes, I will.

Mrs. D. Why I'm sure he's a vagabond.

Jus. W. I like him the better; I would have him a vagabond.

Mrs. D. Brother, brother!

Haw. Come, come, madam, all's very well; and I see my neighbour is what I always thought him, a man of sense and prudence.

Sir W. May I never do an ill turn, but I say so too.

Jus. W. Here, young fellow, take my daughter, and bless you both together; but hark you, no money till I die. Sister Deborah, you're a fool.

Mrs. D. Ah, brother, brother, you're a silly old man. [Exil. Haw. Adds me, sir, here are some of your neighbours come to visit you, and I suppose to make up company of your statute ball; yonder's music too, I see; shall we enjoy ourselves?

the

ACT I.

SCENE I.-The House of Dornton.

Enter MR. DORNTON.

Dornton. Past two o'clock, and not yet returned! Well, well; it's my own fault. Mr. Smith!

Enter MR.SMITH.

Mr. Smith. Sir.
Dornton. Is Mr. Sulky come in?

Mr. Smith. No, sir. [should return to-night?
Dornton. Are you sure Harry Dornton said he
Mr. Smith. Yes, sir.

Dornton. And you don't know where he is gone? Mr. Smith. He did not tell me, sir. Dornton. (Angrily.) I ask you if you know? Mr. Smith. I believe, to Newmarket, sir. Dornton. You always believe the worst. I'll sit up no longer. Tell the servants to go to bed. And, do you hear? should he apply to you for money, don't let him have a guinea.

Mr. Smith, Very well, sir. Dornton. I have done with him; he is henceforth no son of mine. Let him starve.

Mr. Smith. He acts very improperly, sir, indeed. Dornton. Improperly! How? What does he do? (Alarmed.)

Mr. Smith. Sir!

Dornton. Have you heard any thing ofMr. Smith. (Confused.) No; no, sir, nothing; nothing but what you yourself tell me. Dornton. Then how do you know he has acted improperly?

Mr. Smith. He is certainly a very good-hearted. young gentleman, sir. [an assertion? Dornton. Good-hearted! How dare you make such Mr. Smith. Sir!

Dornton. How dare you, Mr. Smith, insult me so?

Is not his gaming notorious? his racing, driving, riding, and associating with knaves, fools, debauchees, and black legs?

Mr. Smith. Upon my word, sir, I

Dornton. But it's over. His name has this very day been struck out of the firm. Let his drafts be returned. It's all ended. (Passionately.) And, observe, not a guinea. If you lend him any yourself, I'll not pay you. I'll no longer be a fond, doating father. Therefore take warning. Take warning, I say. Be his distress what it will, not a guinea: though you should hereafter see him begging, starving in the streets, not so much as the loan or the gift of a single guinea. (With great passion.) Mr. Smith. I shall be careful to observe your orders, sir.

Dornton. Sir! (With terror.) Why, would you see him starve? Would you see him starve, and not lend him a guinea? Would you, sir? Would you?

Mr. Smith. Sir! Certainly not, except in obedience to your orders.

Dornton. (With amazement and compassion.) And could any orders justify your seeing a poor unfortunate youth, rejected by his father, abandoned by his friends, starving to death?

Mr. Smith. There is no danger of that, sir.

Dornton. I tell you the thing shall happen. He shall starve to death. (With horror at the supposition.) I'll never look on him more as a son of mine; and ĺ am very certain, when I have forsaken him, all the world will forsake him too. (Almost in tears.) Yes, yes; he is born to be a poor wretched outcast!

Mr. Smith. I hope, sir, he still will make a fine man. Dornton. Will! There is not a finer, handsomer, nobler looking youth in the kingdom; no, not in the world.

Mr. Smith. I mean a worthy good man, sir.