Capt. Blushing Bell with downcast eyes, Will. He is fond and she is shy; Bids him leave her!-why!-0, why? Chorus. Taste our pleasures, ye who may, Rus. & Dor. Now we'll quaff the nut-brown ale, All is jest and all is glee, All is youthful jollity. Chorus. Taste our pleasures, ye who may, PHEBE, IRISH GIRL, aud 1st IRISHMAN. Lads and lasses, all advance, Chorus. Trip it lightly while you may, This is Nature's holiday. [All rise; the Dancers come down the stage through the sheaves of corn, which are removed; the dance begins, and finishes the act.* It is remarkable how much PEARSAL, who had a very strong religious sensibility, enters into the rejoicings of peasants in Harvest. See his Contemplations on Harvest, Letter IX. "But what was that acclamation? Sure it is the voice of some "who have obtained victory, or of one that hath found great spoil. 64 -It is the joy of the Harvest! (Isaiah IX. 3.) Yonder fields 66 are cleared, yonder stacks are loaded, the labour of the husband"man is crowned, all his fears are over, his hopes are fulfilled, his "family is provided for, and the end of all his pains in plowing and sowing, and weeding, and fencing, and cultivating, and watching, "is answered, and he sits down to enjoy the fruit of his labour. "This was the reason of the sound I heard.-See, the troop comes! "How are they adorned! they dance, they sing; music assists them ACT II. The SCENE continues. Enter RUSTIC. Rus. This purse is the plague of my life: I hate money I'll e'en put in the five guineas when it is not my own. he gave me for myself: I don't want it, and they do. But I hear the cottage door open. [Retires a little. [Dorcas and Rosina come out of 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 [Takes the basket from Dorcas, and carry it. sets it down on the bench. Dor. [Peevishly.] No, no. Ros. If you love me, only take half: this evening, or to-morrow morning, I will carry the rest. [She 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 ? Dor. Indeed I have not, love; and yet I am uneasy. [Rustic goes up to the cottage. "in both. All gay, all innocent; some serenely cheerful, some ex"aberantly joyful, according to the workings of their natural "tempers: with some it is only a carnal mirth, while others mingle "the devout homage and the ardors of praise to the beneficent Being, "who hath, from his invisible but inexhaustible horn, poured out "plenty in so liberal a manner, and crowned the year with his good " ness. Psalm. LXV. 12. See also the Master's Address to his Labourers and Friends on their arrival at his house, in the same letter. There are some observations on Harvest Homes in the Introduction to my Collection of Songs. Rus. Now; now whilst they turn their heads. [He lays the purse on the bench unperceived, and says to Capt. Belville, whom he meets going off, I have disposed of your money, Sir. Capt. B. Come this way. [He takes Rustic aside. Dor. Go back to the reapers, whilst I carry this thread. Ros. I'll go this moment. 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. [Whilst Dorcas feels in her pocket for the key. Capt. B. [Aside.] 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 door. [Whilst she is locking the door, Dorcas going to take up her basket, sees the purse. Dor. What is here? a purse? Is it a purse? Ros. How? Dor. Come, and see; Ros. What a weight! 'tis a purse indeed. '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 carry the money to his honour, and get him to keep it till the owner is found. You shall go with it, love. Ros. Pray excuse me, I dare not speak to him. Dor. 'Tis nothing but childishness: but his honour will like your bashfulness better than too much courage -carry it, my love. [Goes out. 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. AIR. Sweet transports, gentle wishes, go! In vain his charms have gain'd my heart! Since fortune, still to love a foe, And cruel duty bid us part. Ah! why does duty chain the mind, And part those souls which love has join'd?' Ros. Pray, William, do you know of any body that has lost a purse? 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 you will 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 shan't be the lighter for my carrying. Ros. That I am sure of, William. Enter PHOEBE. [Exit Rosina. Pha. There is William; but I'll pretend not to see him. AIR. Henry cull'd the flow'ret's bloom, Marian lov'd the soft perfume, Had playful kiss'd, but prudence near Whisper'd timely in the ear; "Simple Marian, ah! beware; "Touch them not, for love is there.” [Throws away her nosegay. [Whilst 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. Pho. [Aside.] That's a copy of his countenance, I'm sartin; he can't help following me. No, that he can't. [William crosses again singing, Of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, first: Pho. I'm ready to choak wi' rage, but I'll not speak : no, that I wo'nt. [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. Pho I can't bear it no longer you vile, ungrateful, parfiddous-but it's no matter-I can't think what ĺ could see in you,-Harry loves me, and is a thousand times more handsomer. [Sings, sobbing at every word. Of all the gay dancers that sport on the green, Will. He's yonder a reaping: shall I call him? [Offers to go. Phoe. 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. Phoe. I did not value her scolding of a brass farthing, when I thought as how you were true to me. Will. Was'n't I true to you? look in my face, and say that. AIR. When bidden to the wake or fair, If chance some fairing caught her eye For what is gold compar'd to love? My posy on her bosom plac'd Could Harry's sweeter scents exhale ! |