COUNTRY LASSES. something to drink the lady's health, Wheatley pix Heath failp London Printed for John Bell British Library Strand Jan¥7.1791. be 86 2 Count. Ah, how she do look, Dick! there will merry work anon, i' fackins. 1 Count. Come, lead up, Clody; thou art so full "of prate and waggery, as they sayn. [A dance." Heart. My good neighbours, I thank you all for these favours. I hope you'll dine with me to-morrow. I beg you'll excuse me now. In the mean time, here is something to drink this lady's health. My wife ! sea; [Exeunt all but Heartwell and Flora. -my dear!I am now richer than the I have a treasure in thee more valuable than what the earth contains. "Oh, my love! my heart ❝ at thy sight feels an ecstatic gaiety, a joy that en❝larges and opens my mind, and throws a prospect "before me of lasting happiness. "Flora. To keep alive this passion will be now all "my ambition, the very extent of my best hopes. I "blush to say, my only fears were lest I should have "lost you. But my uncle will impatiently expect 62 us; he will hardly believe we are married, till he 66 sees the voucher, the certificate, or the parson." Enter SHACKLEFIGURE. "Heart." How now! what solemn piece of formality, what man of wires is this, that moves towards us? He stirs by clock-work, like St. Dunstan's giants; he prepares to open his mouth, as if he could not speak without an order of court. Shack. Save you, right worshipful Sir. Heart. And you eke also," and send you salt "enough with your tears to scour away your sins." Shack. Sir John English, my most bountiful lord and master, hearing by the mouth of common fameHeart. Common fame is a common liar, friend; you have your news from the worst hands. Shack. Sir, you break the thread of my discourse. Heart. Well, join it again, and go on. Shack. Sir John English, my most bountiful lord and master, hearing by the mouth of common fame, that you were joined in holy wedlock to the niece of his good tenant, Solomon Freehold, sends his wishes ambassadors by me, the humblest of his vassals, that you and your fair bride will be pleased to sup and consummate your marriage at his house. Heart. Verily, thou hast well unfolded thy message; now plait it up carefully again, friend, and give my service to thy master Sir John, and say, that my wishes are to be private for a night or two. Shack. Sir, I shall report---or carry back your answer accordingly. Flora. Stay, friend, stay a moment---[To Heart.] If I could prevail upon you, you should grant Sir John's request. Heart. 'Twill interrupt our happiness. Noise is an enemy to transport. I am so covetous, I would have thee for ever alone. Flora. But Sir John has always been to me the most obliging, kindest, best-natured man; at this time it would look like ingratitude to refuse him. Give me my request; 'tis the first I ever made. I'll go before, and prepare the old gentleman to receive you, and prevent all ceremonious trouble. You'll be there in an hour. Heart. I can deny thee nothing. Tell your master I'll wait on him. [Exeunt Shack. and Flora. Enter MODELY. Ha, George! I was looking for you. What shall I do? You shall advise me. Shall little girl, or no? marry my dear Mode. To marry for love, my friend, is confining your whole body for the error of your eyes only. Heart. Ay, but where one loves, one would keep a woman to one's self. He Mode. Ha, ha! keep a woman to one's self. that purchases an estate where all the world take a right of common, may build churches for atheists, and alms-houses for misers. Heart. But a little legal inclosure is for the comfort of our lives, when the land has been carefully and virtuously cultivated. Mode. Why, you don't really intend to marry. this girl? Heart. Really, I believe I shall. Mode. Indeed! Ah, pretty!-Do'e, do'e, fling two thousand pounds a year away upon a cottage, Marian -take the refuse of a bumpkin to your marriagebed, and after that be the cuckold of the plowman. Heart. How! What? Mode. Ay, ten to one but some sinewy thresher, who has warmed her brisk blood at a hop or a wake, |