Chapter II: Act THE FIRST: Scene I

_In the fore ground a Farm House.--A view of a Castle at a distance._

FARMER ASHFIELD _discovered at a table, with his jug and pipe._

_Enter_ DAME ASHFIELD, _in a riding dress, and a basket under her arm._

_Ash._ Well, Dame, welcome whoam. What news does thee bring vrom market?

_Dame._ What news, husband? What I always told you; that Farmer Grundy's wheat brought five shillings a quarter more than ours did.

_Ash._ All the better vor he.

_Dame._ Ah! the sun seems to shine on purpose for him.

_Ash._ Come, come, missus, as thee hast not the grace to thank God for prosperous times, dan't thee grumble when they be unkindly a bit.

_Dame._ And I assure you, Dame Grundy's butter was quite the crack of the market.

_Ash._ Be quiet, woolye? aleways ding, dinging Dame Grundy into my ears--what will Mrs. Grundy zay? What will Mrs. Grundy think--Canst thee be quiet, let ur alone, and behave thyzel pratty?

_Dame._--Certainly I can--I'll tell thee, Tummas, what she said at church last Sunday.

_Ash._ Canst thee tell what parson zaid? Noa--Then I'll tell thee--A' zaid that envy were as foul a weed as grows, and cankers all wholesome plants that be near it--that's what a' zaid.

_Dame._ And do you think I envy Mrs. Grundy indeed?

_Ash._ Why dant thee letten her aloane then--I do verily think when thee goest to t'other world, the vurst question thee ax 'il be, if Mrs. Grundy's there--Zoa be quiet, and behave pratty, do'ye--Has thee brought whoam the Salisbury news?

_Dame._ No, Tummas: but I have brought a rare wadget of news with me. First and foremost I saw such a mort of coaches, servants, and waggons, all belonging to Sir Abel Handy, and all coming to the castle--and a handsome young man, dressed all in lace, pulled off his hat to me, and said--"Mrs. Ashfield, do me the honour of presenting that letter to your husband."--So there he stood without his hat--Oh, Tummas, had you seen how Mrs. Grundy looked!

_Ash._ Dom Mrs. Grundy--be quiet, and let I read, woolye? [_Reads._] "My dear farmer" [_Taking off his hat._] Thankye zur--zame to you, wi' all my heart and soul--"My dear farmer"--

_Dame._ Farmer--Why, you are blind, Tummas, it is--"My dear father"--Tis from our own dear Susan.

_Ash._ Odds dickens and daizeys! zoo it be, zure enow!--"My dear feyther, you will be surprized"--Zoo I be, he, he! What pretty writing, bean't it? all as straight as thof it were ploughed--"Surprized to hear, that in a few hours I shall embrace you--Nelly, who was formerly our servant, has fortunately married Sir Abel Handy Bart."--

_Dame._ Handy Bart.--Pugh! Bart. stands for Baronight, mun.

_Ash._ Likely, likely,--Drabbit it, only to think of the zwaps and changes of this world!

_Dame._ Our Nelly married to a great Baronet! I wonder, Tummas, what Mrs. Grundy will say?

_Ash._ Now, woolye be quiet, and let I read--"And she has proposed bringing me to see you; an offer, I hope, as acceptable to my dear feyther"--

_Dame._ "And mother"--

_Ash._ Bless her, how prettily she do write feyther, dan't she?

_Dame._ And mother.

_Ash._ Ees, but feyther first, though----"As acceptable to my dear feyther and mother, as to their affectionate daughter--Susan Ashfield."--Now bean't that a pratty letter?

_Dame._ And, Tummas, is not she a pretty girl?

_Ash._ Ees; and as good as she be pratty--Drabbit it, I do feel zoo happy, and zoo warm,--for all the world like the zun in harvest.

_Dame._ Oh, Tummas, I shall be so pleased to see her, I shan't know whether I stand on my head or my heels.

_Ash._ Stand on thy head! vor sheame o' thyzel--behave pratty, do.

_Dame._ Nay, I meant no harm--Eh, here comes friend Evergreen the gardener, from the castle. Bless me, what a hurry the old man is in.

_Enter_ EVERGREEN.

_Everg._ Good day, honest Thomas.

_Ash._ Zame to you, measter Evergreen.

_Everg._ Have you heard the news?

_Dame._ Any thing about Mrs. Grundy?

_Ash._ Dame, be quiet, woolye now?

_Everg._ No, no--The news is, that my master, Sir Philip Blandford, after having been abroad for twenty years, returns this day to the castle; and that the reason of his coming is, to marry his only daughter to the son of Sir Abel Handy, I think they call him.

_Dame._ As sure as two-pence, that is Nelly's husband.

_Everg._ Indeed!--Well, Sir Abel and his son will be here immediately; and, Farmer, you must attend them.

_Ash._ Likely, likely.

_Everg._ And, mistress, come and lend us a hand at the castle, will you?--Ah, it is twenty long years since I have seen Sir Philip--Poor gentleman! bad, bad health--worn almost to the grave, I am told.---What a lad do I remember him--till that dreadful--[_Checking himself._] But where is Henry? I must see him--must caution him--[_A gun is discharged at a distance._] That's his gun, I suppose--he is not far then--Poor Henry!

_Dame._ Poor Henry! I like that indeed! What though he be nobody knows who, there is not a girl in the parish that is not ready to pull caps for him--The Miss Grundys, genteel as they think themselves, would be glad to snap at him--If he were our own, we could not love him better.

_Everg._ And he deserves to be loved--Why, he's as handsome as a peach tree in blossom; and his mind is as free from weeds as my favourite carnation bed. But, Thomas, run to the castle, and receive Sir Abel and his son.

_Ash._ I wool, I wool--Zo, good day. [_Bowing._] Let every man make his bow, and behave pratty--that's what I say.--Missus, do'ye show un Sue's letter, woolye? Do ye letten see how pratty she do write feyther. [_Exit._

_Dame._ Now Tummas is gone, I'll tell you such a story about Mrs. Grundy--But come, step in, you must needs be weary; and I am sure a mug of harvest beer, sweetened with a hearty welcome, will refresh you. [_Exeunt into the house._

SCENE II.

_Outside and gate of the Castle--Servants cross the stage, laden with different packages._

_Enter_ ASHFIELD.

_Ash._ Drabbit it, the wold castle 'ul be hardly big enow to hold all thic lumber.

_Sir Abel Handy._ [_Without._] Gently there! mind how you go, Robin.
[_A crash._

_Ash._ Who do come here? A do zeem a comical zoart ov a man--Oh, Abel Handy, I suppoze.

_Enter_ SIR ABEL HANDY.--SERVANT _following._

_Sir Abel._ Zounds and fury! you have killed the whole county, you dog! for you have broke the patent medicine chest, that was to keep them all alive!--Richard, gently!--take care of the grand Archimedian corkscrews!--Bless my soul! so much to think of! Such wonderful inventions in conception, in concoction, and in completion!

_Enter_ PETER.

Well, Peter, is the carriage much broke?

_Peter._ Smashed all to pieces. I thought as how, sir, that your infallible axletree would give way.

_Sir Abel._ Confound it, it has compelled me to walk so far in the wet, that I declare my water-proof shoes are completely soaked through. [_Exit_ PETER.] Now to take a view with my new invented glass! [_Pulls out his glass._

_Ash._ [_Loud and bluntly._] Zarvent, zur! Zarvent!

_Sir Abel._ [_Starting._] What's that? Oh, good day.--Devil take the fellow? [_Aside._

_Ash._ Thankye, zur; zame to you with all my heart and zoul.

_Sir Abel._ Pray, friend, could you contrive _gently_ to inform me, where I can find one Farmer Ashfield.

_Ash._ Ha, ha, ha! [_Laughing loudly._] Excuse my tittering a bit--but your axing mysel vor I be so domm'd zilly [_Bowing and laughing._]--Ah! you stare at I beceas I be bashful and daunted.

_Sir Abel._ You are very bashful, to be sure. I declare I'm quite weary.

_Ash._ If you'll walk into the castle, you may zit down, I dare zay.

_Sir Abel._ May I indeed? you are a fellow of extraordinary civility.

_Ash._ There's no denying it, zur.

_Sir Abel._ No, I'll sit here.

_Ash._ What! on the ground! Why you'll wring your ould withers--

_Sir Abel._ On the ground--no, I always carry my seat with me [_Spreads a small camp chair._]--Here I'll sit and examine the surveyor's account of the castle.

_Ash._ Dickens and daizeys! what a gentleman you wou'd be to shew at a vair!

_Sir Abel._ Silence fellow, and attend--"An account of the castle and domain of Sir Philip Blandford, intended to be settled as a marriage portion on his daughter, and the son of Sir Abel Handy,--by Frank Flourish, surveyor.--Imprimis--The premises command an exquisite view of the Isle of Wight."--Charming! delightful! I don't see it though [_Rising._]--I'll try with my new glass--my own invention--[_He looks through the glass._] Yes, there I caught it--Ah! now I see it plainly--Eh! no--I don't see it, do you?

_Ash._ Noa, zur, I doant--but little zweepy do tell I he can zee a bit out from the top of the chimbley--zoa, an you've a mind to crawl up you may zee un too, he, he!

_Sir Abel._ Thank you--but damn your titter. [_Reads._]--"Fish ponds well stocked"--That's a good thing, Farmer.

_Ash._ Likely, likely--but I doant think the vishes do thrive much in theas ponds.

_Sir Abel._ No! why?

_Ash._ Why, the ponds be always dry i'the zummer; and I be tould that bean't wholesome vor the little vishes.

_Sir Abel._ Not very, I believe--Well said surveyor! "A cool summer house."

_Ash._ Ees, zur, quite cool--by reason the roof be tumbled in.

_Sir Abel._ Better and better--"the whole capable of the greatest improvement."--Come, that seems true however--I shall have plenty to do, that's one comfort--I have such contrivances! I'll have a canal run through my kitchen.--I must give this rustic some idea of my consequence. [_Aside._] You must know, Farmer, you have the honour of conversing with a man, who has obtained patents for tweezers, tooth-picks, and tinder boxes--to a philosopher, who has been consulted on the Wapping docks and the Gravesend tunnel; and who has now in hand two inventions which will render him immortal--the one is, converting saw dust into deal boards, and the other is, a plan of cleaning rooms by a steam engine--and, Farmer, I mean to give prizes for industry--I'll have a ploughing match.

_Ash._ Will you, zur?

_Sir Abel._ Yes; for I consider a healthy young man, between the handles of a plough, as one of the noblest illustrations of the prosperity of Britain.

_Ash._ Faith and troth! there be some tightish hands in theas parts, I promize ye.

_Sir Abel._ And, Farmer, it shall precede the hymeneal festivities--

_Ash._ Nan!

_Sir Abel._ Blockhead! The ploughing match shall take place as soon as Sir Philip Blandford and his daughter arrive.

_Ash._ Oh, likely, likely.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Serv._ Sir Abel, I beg to say, my master will be here immediately.

_Sir Abel._ And, sir, I beg to ask who possesses the happiness of being your master?

_Serv._ Your son, sir, Mr. Robert Handy.

_Sir Abel._ Indeed! and where is Bob?

_Serv._ I left him, sir, in the belfrey of the church.

_Sir Abel._ Where?

_Serv._ In the belfrey of the church.

_Sir Abel._ In the belfrey of the church! What was he doing there?

_Serv._ Why, Sir, the _natives_ were ringing a peal in honour of our arrival--when my master finding they knew nothing of the matter, went up to the steeple to instruct them, and ordered me to proceed to the Castle--Give me leave, Sir Abel, to take this out of your way. [_Takes the camp chair._] Sir, I have the honour-- [_Bows and Exit._

_Sir Abel._ Wonderful! My Bob, you must know, is an astonishing fellow!--you have heard of the _admirable Crichton_, may be? Bob's of the same kidney! I contrive, he executes--Sir Abel _invenit_, Bob _fecit_. He can do everything--everything!

_Ash._ All the better vor he. I zay, zur, as he can turn his head to everything, pray, in what way med he earn his livelihood?

_Sir Abel._ Earn his livelihood!

_Ash._ Ees, zur;--How do he gain his bread!

_Sir Abel._ Bread! Oh, he can't earn his bread, bless you! he's a genius.

_Ash._ Genius! Drabbit it, I have got a horze o' thic name, but dom' un, he'll never work--never.

_Sir Abel._ Egad; here comes my boy Bob!--Eh! no--it is not! no.

_Enter_ POSTBOY, _with a round hat and cane._

Why, who the devil are you?

_Postb._ I am the postboy, your honour, but the gem'man said I did not know how to drive, so he mounted my horse, and made me get inside--Here he is.

_Enter_ HANDY, jun. _with a postboy's cap and whip._

_Handy, jun._ Ah, my old Dad, is that you?

_Sir Abel._ Certainly! the only doubt is, if that be you?

_Handy, jun._ Oh, I was teaching this fellow to drive--Nothing is so horrible as people pretending to do what they are unequal to--Give me my hat--That's the way to use a whip.

_Postb._ Sir, you know you have broke the horses' knees all to pieces.

_Handy, jun._ Hush, there's a guinea. [_Apart._

_Sir Abel._ [_To_ ASHFIELD.] You see, Bob can do everything. But, sir, when you knew I had arrived from Germany, why did you not pay your duty to me in London?

_Handy, jun._ Sir, I heard you were but four days married, and I would not interrupt your honeymoon.

_Sir Abel._ Four days! oh, you might have come. [_Sighing._

_Handy, jun._ I hear you have taken to your arms a simple rustic, unsophisticated by fashionable follies--a full blown blossom of nature.

_Sir Abel._ Yes!

_Handy, jun._ How does it answer?

_Sir Abel._ So, so!

_Handy, jun._ Any thorns?

_Sir Abel._ A few.

_Handy, jun._ I must be introduced--where is she?

_Sir Abel._ Not within thirty miles; for I don't hear her.

_Ash._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Handy, jun._ Who is that?

_Sir Abel._ Oh, a pretty behaved tittering friend of mine.

_Ash._ Zarvent, zur--No offence, I do hope--Could not help tittering a bit at Nelly--when she were zarvent maid wi' I, she had a tightish prattle wi' her, that's vor zartain.

_Handy, jun._ Oh! so then my honoured mamma was the servant of this tittering gentleman--I say, father, perhaps she has not lost the tightish prattle he speaks of.

_Sir Abel._ My dear boy, come here--Prattle! I say did you ever live next door to a pewterer's?--that's all--you understand me--did you ever hear a dozen fire-engines full gallop?--were you ever at Billingsgate in the sprat season?--or----

_Handy, jun._ Ha, ha!

_Sir Abel._ Nay, don't laugh, Bob.

_Handy, jun._ Indeed, sir, you think of it too seriously. The storm, I dare say, soon blows over.

_Sir Abel._ Soon! you know what a trade wind is, don't you, Bob? why, she thinks no more of the latter end of her speech, than she does of the latter end of her life--

_Handy, jun._ Ha! ha!

_Sir Abel._ But I won't be laugh'd at--I'll knock any man down that laughs! Bob, if you can say any thing pleasant, I'll trouble you; if not, do what my wife can't--hold your tongue.

_Handy, jun._ I'll shew you what I can do--I'll amuse you with this native. [_Apart._

_Sir Abel._ Do--do--quiz him--at him, Bob.

_Handy, jun._ I say, Farmer, you are a set of jolly fellows here, an't you?

_Ash._ Ees, zur, deadly jolly--excepting when we be otherwise, and then we bean't.

_Handy, jun._ Play at cricket, don't you?

_Ash._ Ees, zur; we Hampshire lads conceat we can bowl a bit or thereabouts.

_Handy, jun._ And cudgel too, I suppose?

_Sir Abel._ At him, Bob.

_Ash._ Ees, zur, we sometimes break oon another's heads, by way of being agreeable, and the like o'that.

_Handy, jun._ Understand all the guards? [_Putting himself in an attitude of cudgelling._]

_Ash._ Can't zay I do, zur.

_Handy, jun._ What! hit in this way, eh? [_Makes a hit at_ ASHFIELD, _which he parries, and hits young_ HANDY _violently._]

_Ash._ Noa, zur, we do hit thic way.

_Handy, jun._ Zounds and fury!

_Sir Abel._ Why, Bob, he has broke your head.

_Handy, jun._ Yes; he rather hit me--he somehow----

_Sir Abel._ He did indeed, Bob.

_Handy, jun._ Damn him--The fact is, I am out of practice.

_Ash._ You need not be, zur; I'll gi' ye a belly full any day, wi' all my heart and soul.

_Handy, jun._ No, no, thank you--Farmer, what's your name?

_Ash._ My name be Tummas Ashfield--any thing to say against my name?
[_Threatening._

_Handy, jun._ No, no--Ashfield! shou'd he be the father of my pretty Susan--Pray have you a daughter?

_Ash._ Ees, I have--any thing to zay against she?

_Handy, jun._ No, no; I think her a charming creature.

_Ash._ Do ye, faith and troth--Come, that be deadly kind o'ye however--Do you zee, I were _frightful_ she were not agreeable.

_Handy, jun._ Oh, she's extremely agreeable to me, I assure you.

_Ash._ I vow, it be quite pratty in you to take notice of Sue. I do hope, zur, breaking your head will break noa squares--She be a coming down to theas parts wi' lady our maid Nelly, as wur--your spouse, zur.

_Handy, jun._ The devil she is! that's awkward!

_Ash._ I do hope you'll be kind to Sue when she do come, woolye, zur?

_Handy, jun._ You may depend on it.

_Sir Abel._ I dare say you may. Come, Farmer, attend us.

_Ash._ Ees, zur; wi' all respect--Gentlemen, pray walk thic way, and I'll walk before you. [_Exit._

_Sir Abel._ Now, that's what he calls behaving pretty. Damn his pretty behaviour. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Grove._

[MORRINGTON _comes down the stage, wrapped in a great coat--He looks about--then at his watch, and whistles--which is answered._]

_Enter_ GERALD.

_Mor._ Here, Gerald! Well, my trusty fellow, is Sir Philip arrived?

_Ger._ No, sir; but hourly expected.

_Mor._ Tell me, how does the castle look?

_Ger._ Sadly decayed, sir.

_Mor._ I hope, Gerald, you were not observed.

_Ger._ I fear otherwise, sir; on the skirts of the domain I encountered a stripling with his gun; but I darted into that thicket, and so avoided him.

[HENRY _appears in the back ground, in a shooting dress, attentively observing them._]

_Mor._ Have you gained any intelligence?

_Ger._ None: the report that reached us was false--The infant certainly died with its mother--Hush! conceal yourself--we are observed--this way.

[_They retreat_--HENRY _advances._

_Henry._ Hold! as a friend, one word!

[_They exeunt, he follows them, and returns._

Again they have escaped me--"_The infant died with its mother_"--This agony of doubt is insupportable.

_Enter_ EVERGREEN.

_Everg._ Henry, well met.

_Henry._ Have you seen strangers?

_Everg._ No!

_Henry._ Two but now have left this place--They spoke of a lost child--My busy fancy led me to think I was the object of their search--I pressed forward, but they avoided me.

_Everg._ No, no; it could not be you; for no one on earth knows but myself, and----

_Henry._ Who? Sir Philip Blandford?

_Everg._ I am sworn, you know, my dear boy; I am solemnly sworn to silence.

_Henry._ True, my good old friend; and if the knowledge of who I am can only be obtained at the price of thy perjury, let me for ever remain ignorant--let the corroding thought still haunt my pillow, cross me at every turn, and render me insensible to the blessings of health and liberty--yet, in vain do I suppress the thought--who am I? why thus abandoned? perhaps the despised offspring of guilt--Ah! is it so? [_Seizing him violently._

_Everg._ Henry, do I deserve this?

_Henry._ Pardon me, good old man! I'll act more reasonably--I'll deem thy silence mercy.

_Everg._ That's wisely said.

_Henry._ Yet it is hard to think, that the most detested reptile that nature forms, or man pursues, has, when he gains his den, a parent's pitying breast to shelter in; but I----

_Everg._ Come, come, no more of this.

_Henry._ Well!----I visited to-day that young man who was so grievously bruised by the breaking of his team.

_Everg._ That was kindly done, Henry.

_Henry._ I found him suffering under extreme torture, yet a ray of joy shot from his languid eye--for his medicine was administered by a father's hand--it was a mother's precious tear that dropped upon his wound--Oh, how I envied him!

_Everg._ Still on the same subject--I tell thee, if thou art not acknowledged by thy race, why, then become the noble founder of a new one.--Come with me to the castle, for the last time.

_Henry._ The last time!

_Everg._ Aye, boy; for, when Sir Philip arrives, you must avoid him.

_Henry._ Not see him! where exists the power that shall prevent me?

_Everg._ Henry, if you value your own peace of mind--if you value an old man's comfort, avoid the castle.

_Henry._ [_Aside._] I must dissemble with this honest creature--Well, I am content.

_Everg._ That's right--that's right,--Henry--Be but thou resigned and virtuous, and He, who clothes the lily of the field, will be a parent to thee. [_Exeunt._