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Ralph. Why, what is it I have promised?

Funny. To marry me in the church, you have, a hundred times.

Ralph. Well, and mayhap I will, if you'll have patience.

Fanny. Patience me no patience; you may do it now if you please.

Ralph. Well, but suppose I don't please; I tell you, Fan, you're a fool, and want to quarrel with your bread and butter; I have had anger enow from feyther already, upon your account, and you want me to come by more-As I said, if you have patience, mayhap things may fall out, and mayhap not.

Fanny. With all my heart then; and, now I know your mind, you may go hang yourself.

Ralph. Ay, ay!
Fanny. Yes, you may; who cares for you?

Ralph. Well, and who cares for you, an you go to that?

Fanny. A menial feller! Go, mind your mill and your drudgery; I don't think you worthy to wipe my shoes, -feller!

Ralph. Nay, but Fan, keep a civil tongue in your head-Odds flesh! I would fain know what fly bites all of a sudden now.

Fanny. Marry come up! the best gentlemen's sons in the country have made me proffers; and if one is a miss, be a miss to a gentleman, I say, that will give one fine clothes, and take one to see the show, and put money in one's pocket.

Ralph. Whu-whu-(Fanny hits him a Slap.] What's that for?

Funny. What do you whistle for then? Do you think I am a dog?

Ralph. Never trust me, Fan, if I have not a mind to give you, with this switch in my hand here, as good a lacing

Fanny. Touch me, if you dare : touch me, and I'll swear my life against you.

Ralph. A murrain! with her damn'd little fist as hard as she could draw ! - Fanny. Well, it's good enough for you: I'm not necessitated to take up with the impudence of such a low-lived monkey as you are.-A gentleman's my friend, and I can have twenty guineas in my hand, all as good as this is.

Ralph. Belike from this Londoner, eh?

Fanny. Yes, from him-so you may take your promise of marriage; I don't value it that-[Spits.] and if you speak to me, I'll slap your chops again.


Lord, sir, you seem mighty uneasy ;

But I the refusal can bear :
I warrant I shall not run crazy,

Nor die in a fit of despair.
If so you suppose, you're mistaken ;

For, sir, for to let you to know,
I'm not such a maiden forsaken,

But I have two strings to my bow. (Exit, Ralph. Indeed! Now, I'll be judged by any soul living in the world, if ever there was a viler piece of treachery than this here; there is no such a thing as a true friend upon the face of the globe, and so I have said a hundred times! A couple of base, deceitfulafter all my love and kindness shown. Well, I'll be revenged; see an I ben't-Master Marvint, that's his name, an he do not sham it: he has come here and disguised unself; whereof 'tis contrary to law so to do: besides I do partly know why he did it; and I'll fish out the whole conjuration, and go up to the castle, and tell every syllable; a sha'n't carry a wench from me, were he twenty times the mon he is, and

twenty times to that again, and moreover than so, the first time I meet un, I'll knock un down, tho't 'twas before my lord himself; and he may capias me for it afterwards an he wull.


As they count me such a ninny,

So to let them rule the roast,
I'U bet any one a guinea

They have scored without their host.
But if I don't show them in lieu of it,

A trick that's fairly worth two of it,
Then let me pass for a fool and an äss.
To be sure yon sly cajoler

Thought the work as good as done,
When he found the little stroller

Was so easy to be won.
But if I don't show him in lieu of it,

A trick that's fairly worth two of it,
Then let me pass for a fool or un ass. (Exit.

SCENE 111.

A Room in the Mill ; two Chairs, with a Table, and

a Tankard of Beer. Enter FAIRFIELD and LORD AIMWORTH. Fair. Oh the goodness, his lordship's honour-you are come into a littered place, my noble sir-the arm-chair-will it please your honour to repose you on this, till a better

Lord A. Thank you, Miller, there's no occasion for either, I only want to speak a few words to you, and have company waiting for me without.

Fair. Without-won't their honours favour my poor hovel so far

Lord A. No, Miller, let them stay where they are. -I find you are about marrying your daughterI know the great regard my mother had for her; and am satisfied, that nothing but her sudden death could have prevented her leaving her a handsome provision.

Fair. Dear, my lord, your noble mother, you, and all your family, have heaped favours upon favours on my poor child. - Lord A. Whatever has been done for her she has fully merited

Fair. Why, to be sure, my lord, she is a very good

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Lord A. Poor old man-but those are tears of satisfaction.-Here, Master Fairfield, to bring matters to a short conclusion, here is a bill of a thousand pounds.— Portion your daughter with what you think convenient of it.

Fair. A thousand pound, my lord ! Pray excuse me; excuse me, worthy sir; too much has been done already, and we have no pretensions · Lord A. I insist upon your taking it.-Put it up, and say no more. · Fair. Well, my lord, if it must be so: but indeed, indeed : Lord A. In this I only fulfil what I am satisfied would please my mother. As to myself, I shall take upon me all the expenses of Patty's wedding, and have already given orders about it.

Fair. Alas, sir, you are too good, too generous ; but I fear we shall not be able to profit of your kind intentions, unless you will condescend to speak a little to Patty..

Lord A. How speak !
Fair. Why, my lord, I thought we had pretty well

Bless'd, who no false glare requiring,
Nature's rural sweets admiring,
Can, from grosser joys retiring,

Seek the simple and serene.



Mervin. Yonder she is seated, and, to my wish, nost fortunately alone.--Accost her as I desired.

Theod. Heigh!

Fanny. Heaven bless you, my sweet lady-bless your honour's beautiful visage, and send you a good husband, and a great many of them!

Theod. A very comfortable wish, upon my word! who are you, child ?

Fanny. A poor gipsy, an please you, that goes about begging from charitable gentlemen and ladies. -]f you have e'er a coal, or bit of whiting in your pocket, l'll write you the first letter of your sweetheart's name-how many husbands


will have, and how many children, my lady: or, if you'll let me look at your line of life, I'll tell you

whether it will be long or short, happy or miserable.

Theod. Oh! as for that I know it already-you cannot tell me any good fortune, and, therefore, I'll hear none.-Go about your business.

Mer. Stay, madarn, stay—[Pretending to lift a Paper from the Ground]-you have dropped something-Fan, call the young gentlewoman back.

Fanny. Lady, you have lost
Theod. Pho, pho, I have lost nothing !

Mer. Yes, that paper, lady; you dropped it as you got up from the chair.–Fan, give it to her honour. Theod. A letter, with my address !

[Takes the Paper, and reads.

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