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 ]N°- XXXVI. 
 
 OXBERRY'S 
 JVETV 
 
 THE 
 
 COUXTHY GIRL, ^ 
 
 A COMEDY f 
 
 ALTERED FROM WYCHERLEY. 
 
 Ba^itr &iuvvitU. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY WELL^ AND LILLY— COURT-STREET 
 
 A. T. (iOODRlCH & CO NEW- YORK. 
 
 E. LITTELL, PHlLADELPtHA. 
 
 \.-v> -»/v» 'W* -w% iX /*<» wv >/v» "Vl/X -^/x/x •v/x/^ -v/*/^ -^ 
 
m^m 
 
 GftNTArNED IN THIS EDITION, AS FAR AS YET PUB"- 
 LISHED IN ENGLAND. 
 
 No. 1 A New Way to Pay Old 
 Debts. 
 
 2 Rivals. 
 
 3 West Indian. 
 
 4 Hypocrite. 
 
 5 Jealous Wife. 
 
 6 She Stoops to Conquer. 
 
 7 Richard III. 
 
 8 Beggar's Opera. 
 
 9 Wonder. 
 
 10 Duenna. 
 
 11 Alexander the Great. 
 
 12 Lionel and Clarissa. 
 
 13 Hamlet. 
 
 14 Venice Preserved. 
 
 15 Is He Jealous.^ * 
 
 16 The Woodman's Hut. * 
 
 17 Love in a Village. 
 
 18 Way to Keep Him. 
 
 19 Castle Spectre. 
 
 20 Maid of the Mill. 
 
 21 Clandestine Marriage. 
 
 22 Soldier's Daughter. 
 
 23 Othello. 
 24.pis*tressed Mother. 
 2^ Provoked Husband. 
 
 26 .^eaf and Dumb. 
 
 27 Busy Body. 
 
 28 Belle's Stratagem. 
 
 29 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 30 Recruirtng Officer. 
 
 31 Bold Stroke for a Wife. 
 
 32 Road to Ruin. 
 
 33 Beaux' Stratagem. 
 
 34 As you Like It. 
 
 35 King John. I 
 
 [0= Tliose marked thus * are Farces or Melo-drames ; the 
 prices of which are 20 cents; the Plays and Operas 25 cents. 
 
 36 Country Girl. 
 
 37 Jane Shore. 
 
 38 Critic. * 
 
 39 Coriolanus. 
 
 40 Rosina. * 
 
 41 Suspicious Husband. 
 
 42 Honest Thieves. * 
 
 43 Mayor of Garratt. * 
 
 44 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 45 Stranger. 
 
 46 Three Weeks after Mar- 
 
 riage. * 
 
 47 King Lear. 
 
 48 Inconstant. 
 
 49 Shipwreck. * 
 
 50 Rugantino. * 
 
 51 Wild Oats. ^^ 
 
 52 Rale a Wife and Hav™a 
 
 Wife. 
 
 53 Magpie. * 
 
 54 Quaker. * 
 
 55 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 56 Wheel of Fortune. 
 
 57 Rob Roy. 
 
 58 Citizen. * 
 
 59 Deserter. * 
 
 60 Miser. * 
 
 61 Guy Mannering. 
 
 62 Cymbeline. 
 
 63 Lying Valet. * 
 
 64 Twelfth Night. 
 
 65 The Confederacy. 
 
 66 Dounlas. 
 
 67 Who's the Dupe? * 
 
 68 Know Your own Mind. 
 
©jctirrvfi's iStrition. 
 
 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 A COMEDY ; 
 
 ALTERED FROM WYCHERLEY. 
 
 ' 7 / ^ 
 
 WITH PREFATORY REMARKS. 
 
 THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY 
 
 MARKED WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, 
 
 AND STAGE DIRECTIONS, 
 
 AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE 
 
 Wamixtn iXo|>aL 
 
 By W. OXBERRY, Comedian.] . ., 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY WELLS AND LILLY — COURT-STREET 
 
 A, T. GOODRICH & CO. — NEW-YORK : 
 
 E. LITTELL, PHILADELPHU. 
 
 1822. 
 
A^' 
 
 
 /fe7nv 
 
MtmuvU^. 
 
 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 X HE language and characters of the Country Girl are 
 sprightly and entertaining ; there is not perhaps much wit 
 or humour in the dialogue, but it is entertaining from its 
 archness, and the characters are natural and well discrimi- 
 nated. Take it altogether the comedy does not belong to 
 the higher class of the drama; it however holds a distin- 
 guished place in the second rank of excellence, no little 
 praise, if we consider the many and admirable pieces of 
 which it thus takes precedence. 
 
 This style of writing is often more effective in the repre- 
 sentation than that which in reality is its superior ; it is 
 more easily, and therefore better, acted, with the additional 
 advantage of presenting nothing but what is familiar to the 
 minds and habits of the least informed spectators. A Moody 
 and a Peggy are by no means of so rare occurrence that w© 
 need be at a loss to understand their characters or their 
 language. They speak the dialogue of general life, and 
 though their oddities might raise a smile at the follies of 
 fashion, they would not be considered more whimsical than 
 the many monsters which are daily exhibited uncaged and 
 unfettered in the streets of the metropolis. Perhaps the 
 great beauty of this comedy is, that nothing in it is over- 
 charged ; there is much whim but no caricature. 
 
The plot is interesting and sufficiently probable for dra- 
 matic purposes : — The incidents are not numerous, but to 
 make amends are compacted into a whole, from which 
 nothing can be taken without detriment to the remainder j 
 in fact the two parts of the plot are so well linked together 
 and so intimately connected, that it is not very easy at first 
 sight to distinguish the double fictions ; they have all the 
 appearance of unity. Of course we speak of it as now 
 printed and acted ; Garrick has dex-iated considerably from 
 the original, whether to the advantage of the piece in the 
 closet we will not pretend to say, but as a production for 
 the stage it certainly has been infinitely improved by his ju- 
 dicious alterations. It is a melancholy truth, that while 
 many of our most brilliant dramas are utterly ineffective 
 when acted, their inferior rivals are played with unbound- 
 ed approbation ; nor is there in this a just cause for won- 
 der ; it can scarcely be otherwise ; the one is so sublime in 
 its beauty that it is neither to be acted or understood but 
 by minds familiar with poetry, and capable of its excel- 
 lence ; neither the actor nor the very limited powers of 
 scenic deception can realize its fictions ; whereas the good- 
 humoured every-day-efforts of the minor drama have all 
 the advantages which arise out of humbleness : every one 
 comprehends, and every one is familiar with them ; nothing 
 is attempted but what is realized, and if the reader is never 
 much pleased, the spectator will never be much disappoint- 
 ed. 
 
^voloflur. 
 
 SPOKEN BY MR. HART. 
 
 Poets, like cudgell'd bullies, never do 
 
 At first or second blow submit to you ; 
 
 But will provoke you still, and ne'er have done, 
 
 Till you are wearj'^ first with laying on. 
 
 The late so baffled scribbler of this daj'. 
 
 Though he stands trembling, bids me boldly say. 
 
 What we before most plays are us'd to do, 
 
 (For poets, out of fear, first draw on you) ; 
 
 In a fierce prologue, the still pit defy. 
 
 And ere you speak, like Kastril, give the lie ; 
 
 But though our Bayes's battles oft I've fought, 
 
 And with bruis'd knuckles their dear conquests bought 
 
 Nay, never yet fear'd odds upon the stage. 
 
 In prologue dare not hector with the age ; 
 
 But would take quarter from your saving hands, 
 
 Though Bayes within all yielding countermands ; 
 
 Says 5'^ou confed'rate wits no quarter give, 
 
 Therefore his play shan't ask your leave to live. 
 
 Well, let the vain, rash fop, by hufiing so, 
 Think to obtain the better terms of you ; 
 But we, the actors, humbly will submit. 
 Now, and at any time, to a full pit ; 
 1 * 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 Nay, often we anticipate your rage, 
 And murder poets for you on our stage : 
 We set no guards upon our tyring-room ; 
 But when with flying colours there you come, 
 We patiently, you see, give up to you 
 Our poets, virgins, nay, our matrons too. 
 
 STtmc ot Mz^xtHtnt^tmu 
 
 The time this piece takes in representation, is one 
 hour and thirty-four minutes. The first act occupies the 
 space cf fifteen minutes — the second, twenty-one — the 
 third, fifteen — the fourth, twenty-five — and the fifth, eigh- 
 teen. The half-price commences, generally, at a quarter 
 before nine o'clock. 
 
 Stage Directions. 
 
 By R.H. - = - - - is meant Right Hand. 
 
 L.H. - = Left Hand. 
 
 S.E. >»- .,-__ Second Entrance. 
 
 u.E. Upper Entrance. 
 
 M.D. --- Middle Door. 
 
 D.F. Door in Flat. 
 
 R.H.D. -. Right Hand Door. 
 
 L.H.D Left Hand Door. 
 
Costume* 
 
 MOODY. 
 
 Drab coat, gilt buttons, scarlet kerseymere waistcoat bound with gold 
 brocade ; a pair of drab breeches, shoesj buckles, and drab stockings. 
 
 HARCOURT. 
 
 Blue coat, white waistcoat, black dress breeclKs, and opera hat. 
 SPARKISH. 
 
 A black velvet coat, full dress, Ihied with buff silk, gold buttons ; buff 
 silk, waistcoat and breeches, and opera dress hat. 
 
 BELVILLE. 
 A green coat, white waistcoat, dress bx-eeclies, and opera hat. 
 
 FOOTMAN. 
 A suit of livery. 
 
 COUNTRYMAN. 
 Drab cloth livery suit. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 A brown cloth suit. 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 A suit of liveij'. 
 
 PEGGY. 
 
 First Dress— Wjite frock.— Second Dress— petticoat and veil like All- 
 thea's.— Third Dress- Blue coat, trowsers, and white waistcoat. 
 
 ALITHEA. 
 
 Blue satin dress, trimmed with white lace. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Coloured gown, and white, apron. 
 
iirvsons iiepvtsentctr. 
 
 Moody • • . 
 
 Harfourt - • 
 
 Sparkish - • 
 
 Belviile - - 
 
 IViiliam - • 
 Counlryman, 
 
 John - • - 
 
 Miss Peggy - 
 
 Alithea - - • 
 
 Lucy • - • 
 
 As Originally acted. 
 Mr Hart. 
 Mr. Kynaston. 
 Mr. Haynes. 
 Mr. Lydal. 
 
 Drury Lane, 1799 . 
 Mc. Wroughton. 
 Mr. Barrymore. 
 Mr. Dodd. 
 Mr. Bannister. 
 Mr. Spencer. 
 Mr Jones. 
 Mr Alfred. 
 
 Mrs. Bowtel. Mrs. Jordan. 
 ^Irs. James. Mrs. Ward. 
 
 Mrs. Cory. Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 Drury.lane, CorvenUgarden. 
 
 Moody ..-------- ]Mr. jattie. Mr Fawcett.' 
 
 Harrourt ---------Mr Wai ack. Mr. Ban-yraore. 
 
 SOarkish Mr IVnley. Mr. Fa- ley. 
 
 Belviile .-------- Mr Barnard. Mr Hamerton. 
 
 IVHUum --------- Mr. Maddocks. Mr Menage. 
 
 Comilryman --- Mr. Miiiton. Mr Howell. 
 
 John Mr. Coveney. Mr. VV. Chapman- 
 
 Miss Peggy -------- Mrs. Mardyn. Mrs Alsop. 
 
 Alithea --------- ^'a-s. Oigcr. Miss Muthews. 
 
 Lucy ---------- Miss I'idswell . Mrs. Gibbs. 
 
 SCEJVE—London. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — Harcourt's Lodgings, 
 
 Harcourt, l.h. and Belville, r.h. discovered 
 sitting. 
 
 Har. Ha, ha, ha ! and so you are in love, ne- 
 phew ; not reasonably and gallantly, as a young 
 gentleman ought, but sighingly, miserably so ; 
 not content to be ankle-deep, you have sous'd 
 over head and ears — ha, Dick ? 
 
 Bel. I am pretty much in that condition, in- 
 deed, uncle. {Sighs.) 
 
 Har. Nay, never blush at it : vvhen I was of 
 your age 1 was asham d too ; but three years 
 at college, and half a one at Paris, methinks 
 should have cured you of that unfashionable 
 weakness — modesty. 
 
 Bel. Could I have released myself from that, 
 I had perhaps been at this instant happy in the 
 possession of what I must despair now ever to 
 obtain — Heigho ! 
 
10 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Har. Ha, ha, ha ! very foolish indeed. 
 
 Bel. Don't laugh at me, uncle ; I am foolisb, 
 I know ; but, hke other fools, I deserve to be 
 pitied. 
 
 Bar. Pr'ythee don't talk of pity ; how can I 
 help you ? For this country girl of yours is cer- 
 tainly married. 
 
 Bel. No, no — I won't believe it; she is not 
 married, nor she shan't be, if I can help it. 
 
 Har. Well said, modesty ; with such a spirit 
 you can help yourself, Dick, without my assis- 
 tance- 
 
 Bel. But you must encourage and advise me 
 too, or I shall never make any thing of it. 
 
 Har. Provided the girl is not married ; for I 
 never encourage young men to covet their 
 neighbours' wives. 
 
 Bel. My heart assures me, that she is not mar- 
 ried. 
 
 Har. O, to be sure, your heart is much to be 
 relied upon ; but to convince you that 1 have a 
 fellow-feeling of your distress, and that I am as 
 nearly allied to you in misfortunes as in relation- 
 ship, you must know 
 
 Bel. What, uncle ? You alarm me I 
 
 Har. That 1 am in love too. 
 
 Bel. Indeed! 
 
 Har. Miserably in love, 
 
 Bel. That's charming. 
 
 Har- And my mistress is just going to be mar- 
 ried to another. 
 
 Bel. Better and better. 
 
 Har. 1 knew my fellow-suflferings would please 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 11 
 
 you ; but now prepare for the wonderful won- 
 der-of-wonders ! 
 
 Bel. Well. 
 
 Har. My mistress is in the same house with 
 yours. 
 
 Bel. What, are you in love with Peggy too ? 
 {Rising from his Chair.) 
 
 Har. Well said, jealousy. No, no, set your 
 heart at rest ; your Peggy is too young, and too 
 simple for me. I must have one a little more 
 knowing, a little better bred, just old enough to 
 see the difference between me and a coxcomb, 
 spirit enough to break from a brother's engage- 
 ments, and choose for herself. 
 
 Bel. You don't mean Alithea, who is to be 
 married to Mr. Sparkish ? 
 
 Har. Can't I be in love with a lady that is 
 going to be married to another, as well as you, 
 sir? 
 
 Bel. But Sparkish is your friend ? 
 
 Har. Pr'ythee don't call him my friend ; he 
 can be nobody's friend, not even his own. — He 
 would thrust himself into my acquaintance, would 
 introduce me to his mistress, though 1 have told 
 him again and again that I was in love with her ; 
 which, instead of ridding me of him, has made 
 him only ten times more troublesome, and me 
 really in love. He should suffer for his self-suf- 
 ficiency. 
 
 Bel. 'Tis a conceited puppy ! — And what suc- 
 cess with the lady ? 
 
 Har. No great hopes ; and yet if I could de- 
 fer the marriage a few days, 1 should not des- 
 
12 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 pair; her honour, I am confident, is her only 
 attachment to my rival : she can't hke Spark- 
 ish ; and if I can work upon his credulity, a cre- 
 dulity which even popery would be ashamed of, 
 1 may yet have the chance of throwing sixes 
 upon the dice to save me. 
 
 Bel. Nothing can save me. 
 
 Har. No, not if you whine and sigh, when 
 you should be exerting every thing that is man 
 about you. I have sent Sparkish, who is admit- 
 ted at all hours in the house, to know how the 
 land lies for you, and if she is not married al- 
 ready. 
 
 Bel. How cruel you are — you raise me up 
 with one hand, and then knock me down with 
 the other. 
 
 Har. Well, well, she shan't be married. 
 (Knocking at the Door, l.h.) This is Sparkish, I 
 suppose : dont drop the least hint of your pas- 
 sion to him ; if you do, you may as well adver- 
 tise it in the public papers. 
 
 Bel. I'll be careful. 
 
 Enter a Servant, l.h.©. 
 
 Serv. An odd sort of a person, from the coun- 
 try, 1 believe, who calls himself Moody, wants to 
 see you, sir ; but as I did not know him, I said 
 you were not at home, but would return direct- 
 ly ; " And so will I too," said he, very shortly 
 and surlily ! and away he went mumbling- to him- 
 self. 
 
 Har. Very well, Will ; I'll see him when he 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 13 
 
 comes. [Exit<f Servant^ l.h.d.] Moody call to 
 see me ! — He has something more in his head 
 than making me a visit ; 'tis to complain of you, 
 1 suppose. 
 
 Bel. How can he know me ? 
 
 Har. We must suppose the worst, and be pre- 
 pared for him ; tell me all you know of this 
 ward of his, this Peggy — Peggy what's her 
 name ? 
 
 Bel. Thrift, Thrift, uncle. 
 
 Har. Ay, ay, sir Thomas Thrift's daughter, 
 of Hampshire ; and left very young, under the 
 guardianship of my old companion and acquaint- 
 ance. Jack Moody. 
 
 Bel. Your companion ! — he's old enough to be 
 your father. 
 
 Har. Thank you, nephew — he has greatly 
 the advantage of me in years, as well as wis- 
 dom. When I first launched from the universi- 
 ty, into this ocean of London, he was the great- 
 est rake in it ; 1 knew him well for near two 
 years, but all of a sudden he took a freak (a 
 very prudent one) of retiring wholly into the 
 country, 
 
 Bel. There he gain'd such an ascendency 
 over the odd disposition of his neighbour, sir 
 Thomas, that he left him sole guardian to his 
 daughter ; who forfeits half her fortune, if she 
 does not marry with his consent—there's the 
 devil, uncle. 
 
 Har. And are you so young, so foolish, and so 
 much in love that you vvould take her with half 
 her value ? Ha, nephew ? 
 2 
 
14 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Bel. ril take her with any thing — with no- 
 thing. 
 
 Ear. What ! such an unaccomphsh'd, awk- 
 ward, silly creature ? He has scarce taught her 
 to write ; she has seen nobody to converse with, 
 but the country people about 'em ; so she can 
 do nothing but dangle her arms, look gawky, 
 turn her toes in, and talk broad Hampshire. 
 
 Bel. Don't abuse her sweet simpHcity ; had 
 you but heard her talk, as I have done, from the 
 garden-wall in the country, by moonlight 
 
 Har. Romeo and Juliet, I protest, ha, ha, ha ! 
 " Arise fair sun, and kill the envious — " ha, ha, 
 ha! How often have you seen this fair Capulet? 
 
 Bel. I saw her three times in the country, 
 and spoke to her twice ; I have leapM an orch- 
 ard wall, like Romeo, to come at her ; played 
 the balcony scene, from an old summer-house 
 in the garden ; and if I lose her, I will find out 
 an apothecary, and play the tomb scene too. 
 
 Har. Well said, Dick ! — this spirit must pro- 
 duce something ; but has the old dragon ever 
 caught you sighing at her ? 
 
 Bd. Never in the country; he saw me yes- 
 terday kissing my hand to her, from the new 
 tavern window that looks upon the back of his 
 house, and immediately drove her from it, and 
 fastened up the window-shutters. 
 
 Spark, (l^ithout, l.h.) Very well, Will, Til 
 go up to 'em. 
 
 Har. [ hear Sparkish coming up ; take care 
 of what 1 told you ; not a word of Peggy ; hear 
 his intelligence, and meikc use of it, without 
 seeming to mind it. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 15 
 
 Bel. Mum, mum, uncle. 
 
 Enter Sparkish, l.h.d. 
 
 Spark. O. my dear Harcourt, I shall die with 
 laughing; I have such news for thee— ha, ha, 
 ha ! — What, your nephew too, and a little dump- 
 ish, or so ; you have been giving him a lecture 
 upon economy, I suppose — you, who never had 
 any, can best describe the evils that arise from 
 the want of it. I never mind my own affairs, 
 not !, — " The gods take care of Cato." — (^Cross- 
 es to centre.) — I hear, Mr. Belville, you have 
 got a pretty snug house, with a bow-window 
 that looks into the Park, and a back door that 
 goes out into it. Very convenient, and well- 
 imagined — no young handsome fellow should be 
 without one — you may be always ready there, 
 like a spider in his web, to seize upon stray'd 
 women of quality. 
 
 Har, As you used to do — you vain fellow 
 you ; pr'ythee don't teach my nephew your 
 abandoned tricks . he is a modest young man, 
 and you must not spoil him. 
 
 Spark. May be so, but his modesty has done 
 some mischief at our house — my surly, jealous 
 brother in law saw that modest young gentle- 
 man casting a wishful eye at his forbidden fruit, 
 from the new tavern window. 
 
 Bel. You mistake the person, Mr. Sparkish ; 
 I don't know what young lady you mean. 
 
 Har. Explain yourself, Sparkish, you must 
 mistake ; Dick has never seen the girl. 
 
16 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Spark. I don't say he has ; 1 only tell you 
 what Moody says. Besides, he went to the ta- 
 vern himself, and enquired of the waiter who 
 dined in the back room, No. 4 ; and they told 
 him it was Mr. Belville, yo-ir nephew; that's 
 all I know of the matter, or desire to know of it, 
 faith. 
 
 Har. He kiss'd his hand, in'^eed, to your lady, 
 Alithea, and is more in love with her than you 
 are, and very near as much as 1 am ; so look 
 about you, such a youth may be dangerous. 
 
 Spark. The more danger the more honour : 
 I defy you both — win her and wear her if you 
 can — Dolus an virtus in love as well as in war 
 —though you must be expeditious, faith ; for I 
 believe, if I don't change my mind, I shall mar- 
 ry her to-morrow, or the day after. — Have you 
 no honest clergyman, Harconrt, no fellow-colle- 
 gian to recommend me, to do the business ? 
 
 Har. Nothing ever, sure, was so lucky. 
 i^Aside.) Why, faith, I have, Sparkish ; my 
 brother, a twin-brother, Ned Harcourt, will 
 be in town to-day, and proud to attend your 
 commands. — I am a very generous rival, you 
 see, to lend you my brother to marry the woman 
 I love ! 
 
 Spark. And so am I too, to let your brother 
 come so near us — [Crosses to r.h.) — but Ned 
 shall be the man ; poor Alithea grows impa- 
 tient ; I can't put off the evil day any longer. I 
 fancy the brute, her brother, has a mind to mar- 
 ry his country idiot at the same time. 
 
 Bel. How, country idiot, sir ? 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 17 
 
 Har. Hold your tongue. {Apart to Behille.) 
 I thought he had been married already. 
 
 Spark. No, no, he's not married, that's the 
 joke of it. 
 
 Bel. No, no, he is not married. 
 
 Har. Hold your tongue — [Elbowing Behille.) 
 
 Spark. Not he — I have the finest story to tell 
 you — {Crosses to centre.) — by-the-by, he intends 
 calHng upon you, for he asked me where you 
 lived, to complain of modesty there. He picked 
 up an old raking acquaintance of his as we 
 came along together. Will Frankly, who saw 
 him with his girl, skulking and muffled up, at 
 the play last night ; he plagu'd him much about 
 matrimony, and his being ashamed to show him- 
 self: swore he was in love with his wife, and 
 intended to cuckold him. " Do you V cried 
 Moody, folding his arms, and scowling with his 
 eyes thus — " You must have more wit than you 
 used to have ; besides, if you have as much as 
 you think you have, I shall be out of your reach, 
 and this profligate metropolis, in less than a 
 week." — Moody would fain have got rid of him, 
 but the other held him by the sleeve, so I left 
 'em ; rejoiced most luxuriously to see the poor 
 devil tormented. 
 
 Bel. I thought you said, just now, that he was 
 not married : is not that a contradiction, sir ? 
 
 [Harcourt still makes signs to Belville.) 
 
 Spark. Why, it is a kind of one ; but consider- 
 ing your modesty, and the ignorance of the 
 young lady, you are pretty tolerably inquisitive, 
 methiak? j ha, Harcourt ! ha, ha, ha ! 
 
18 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Har. Pooh, pooh ! don't talk to that boy, tell 
 me all you know. 
 
 Spark. \ ou must know, my booby of a brother- 
 in-law hath brought up this ward of his (a good 
 fortune let me tell you), as he coops up and 
 fattens his chickens for his own eating ; he is 
 plaguy jealous of her, and was very sorry that 
 he could not marry her in the country, without 
 coming up to town ; which he could not do on 
 account of some writings or other ; so Avhat 
 does my gentleman? He persuades the poor 
 silly girl, by breaking a sixpence, or some 
 nonsense or another, that they are to all intents 
 married in heaven ; but that the laws require 
 the signing of articles, and the church service to 
 complete their union : so he has made her call 
 him husband, and bud, which she constantly 
 does ; and he calls her wife, and gives out she 
 is married, that she may not look after younger 
 fellows, nor younger fellows after her, egad ; 
 ha, ha, ha ! and all won't do. [Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 Bel. Thank you, sir. What heavenly news, 
 uncle ! {Asidc.\ 
 
 Har. What an idiot you are, nephew ! {Apart.) 
 And so then you make but one trouble of it, 
 and are both to be tack'd together the same 
 day? 
 
 Spark. No, no, he can't be married this week ; 
 he damns the lawyers for keepmg him in town ; — 
 besides, I am out of favour ; and he is continually 
 snarhng at me, and abusing me for not being 
 jealous. [Knocking at the Door.) There he is 
 — 1 must not be seen with you, for he'll suspect 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 19 
 
 something ; I'll go with jour nephew to his 
 house, and we'll wait for you, and make a visit 
 to my wife that is to be, and perhaps we shall 
 show young modesty here a sight of Peggy too. 
 
 Enter a Servant^ l.h.d. 
 
 Serv. Sir, here's the strange odd sort of a 
 gentleman come again, and I have shown him 
 into the fore-parlour. 
 
 Spark. That must be Moody ! Well said, Will ; 
 an odd sort of a strange gentleman indeed ; 
 we'll step into the next room till he comes into 
 this, and then you may have him all to yourself 
 — much good may he do you. [Goings r.h.) 
 Remember that he is married, or he'll suspect 
 me of betraying him. 
 
 [Exeimt Sparkish and Behllle^ r.h.d. 
 
 Har. Show him up. Will. [Exit Servant^ l.h.d. 
 Now must I prepare myself to see a very 
 strange, though a very natural metamorphosis ; 
 a once high-spirited, handsome, weil-dress'd, 
 raking prodigal of the town, sunk into a surly, 
 suspicious, economical, country sloven. 
 
 Enter Moody, l.h.d. 
 
 Moody. Mr. Ilarcourt, your humble servant : 
 have you forgot me ? 
 
 Har. What, my old friend, Jack Moody ! by 
 thy long absence from the town, the grumness 
 of thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy 
 habit, I should give thee joy — ^you are certainly 
 married. 
 
20 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Moody. My long stay in the country will ex- 
 cuse my dress, and I have a suit at law that 
 brings me up to town, and puts me out of 
 humour ; besides, I must give Sparkish ten 
 thousand pounds to-morrow to take my sister oflf 
 my hands. 
 
 Har. Your sister is very much obliged to you : 
 being so much older than her, you have taken 
 upon you the authority of a father, and have 
 engaged her to a coxcomb. 
 
 Moody. I have, and to oblige her : nothing 
 but coxcombs or debauchees are the favourites 
 now-a-days ; and a coxcomb is rather the more 
 innocent animal of the two. 
 
 Har. She has sense and taste, and can't like 
 him ; so you must answer for the consequences. 
 
 Moody. When she is out of my hands, her 
 husband must look to the consequences. He's 
 a fashionable fool, and will cut his horns kindly. 
 
 Har. And what is to secure your worship from 
 consequences ? — I did not expect marriage from 
 such a rake — one that knew the town so well ; 
 fie, fie. Jack. 
 
 Moody. I'll tell you my security — I have mar- 
 ried no London wile. 
 
 Har. Thafs allone ; that grave circumspec- 
 tion in marrying a country wife, is like refusing 
 a deceitful, paraper'd, Smithfield jade, to go and 
 be cheated by a friend in the country. 
 
 Moody. 1 wish the devil had both him and his 
 simile. {Jside.) 
 
 Har. Well, never grumble about it, what's 
 done can't be undone. Is your wife handsome 
 and young ? 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 21 
 
 Moody. She has little beauty but hef youth, 
 nothing" to brag of but her health, and no attrac- 
 tion bu* her modesty — whoh'some, homely, and 
 housewifely — that's all. 
 
 Har. You talk as like a grazier as you look, 
 Jack. — Why did you not bring her to Iowa 
 before, to be taught something ? 
 
 Moody. Which something 1 might repent as 
 long as 1 live. 
 
 Har. But pr'ythee, why wouldst thou marry 
 her, if she be ugly, ill-bred, and silly ? She must 
 be rich then ? 
 
 Moody. As rich as if she had the wealth of 
 the mogul. She'll not ruin her husband, like a 
 London baggage, with a million of vices she 
 never heard of: then, because she's ugly, she's 
 the likeiier to be my own ; and being ill-bred, 
 she'll hate conversation ; and since silly and 
 innocent, will not know the difference between 
 me and you ; that is, between a man of thirty, 
 and one of forty. 
 
 Har. Fifty to my knowledge. [Moody turns off^ 
 and grumbles.) — But see how you and 1 differ, 
 Jack — wit to me is more necessary than beauty ; 
 1 think no young woman ugly that has it, and 
 no handsome woman agreeable without it. 
 
 Moody. 'Tis my maxim — He's a fool that 
 marries ; but he's a greater that does not marry 
 a fool. — I know the town, Mr. Harcoart ; and 
 my wife shall be virtuous in spite of you or your 
 nephew. 
 
 Har. My nephew ! — poor sheepish lad, he runs 
 away from every woman he sees : he saw your 
 
22 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 sister Alithea at the opera, and was much smit- 
 ten with her ; he always toasts her, and hates 
 the very name of Sparkish. I'll bring him to 
 your house, and you shall see what a formidable 
 Tarquin he is. 
 
 Moody. I have no curiosity, so give yourself 
 no trouble. — You hare heard of a wolf in sheep's 
 clothing ; and I have seen your innocent nephew 
 kissing his hands at my windows. 
 
 Har. At your sister, 1 suppose ; not at her 
 unless he was tipsy. How can you, Jack, be so 
 outrageously suspicious ? Sparkish has promised 
 to introduce him to his mistress. 
 
 Moody. Sparkish is a fool, and may be what 
 I'll take care not to be. — 1 confess my visit to 
 you, Mr. Harcourt, was partly for old acquaint- 
 ance sake, but chiefly to desire your nephew to 
 confine his gallantries to the tavern, and not 
 send 'em in looks, signs, or tokens, on the other 
 side of the way. I keep no brothel ; so pray 
 tell your nephew. (^Gomg., l.h.) 
 
 Har. Nay, pr'ythee. Jack, leave me in better 
 humour. Well, I'll tell him ; ha, ha, ha ! Poor 
 Dick, how he'll stare. This will give him a 
 reputation, and the girls won't laugh at him any 
 longer. Shall we dine together at the tavern, 
 and send for my nephew to chide him for his 
 gallantry ? Ha, ha, ha ! we shall have fine sport. 
 
 JVIoody. I am not to be laugh'd out of my 
 senses, Mr. Harcourt. — I was once a modest 
 young gentlemen myself; and I never have 
 been half so mischievous before or since, as I 
 was in that state of iLnocence. — And so, old 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 23 
 
 friend, make no ceremony with me ; I have much 
 business, and you have much pleasure, and 
 therefore, as I hate forms, I will excuse your 
 returning my visit, or sending your nephew to 
 satisfy me of his modesty — and so your servant. 
 
 [Exit, L.H.D. 
 
 Har. Ha, ha, ha ! poor Jack ! what a life of 
 suspicion does he lead I I pity the poor fellow, 
 though he ought and will suffer for his folly — 
 Folly! — 'tis treason, murder, sacrilege! When 
 persons of a certain age will indulge their false, 
 ungenerous appetites, at the expense of a young 
 creature's happiness, dame Nature will revenge 
 herself upon them, for thwarting her most 
 heavenly will and pleasure. [Exit, r.h.b, 
 
 BND OF ACT I, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.-— ^ Chamber in Moodyh House, 
 
 Enter Peggy and Alithea, r.h. 
 
 Peggy. Pray, sister, where are the beat fields 
 and woods to walk in in London ? 
 
 Jili. A pretty question ! Why, sister, Vauxhall, 
 Kensington Gardens, and St. James's Park, are 
 the most frequented- 
 
24 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. Pray, sister, tell me why my bud looks 
 so grum here in town, and keeps me up so close, 
 and won't let me go a walking, nor let me wear 
 my best gown yesterday. 
 
 AH. O, he's jealous, sister ! 
 
 Peggy. Jealous ! what's that ? 
 
 Ali. He's afraid you should love another man. 
 
 Peggy. How should he be afraid of my loving 
 another man, when he will not let me see any 
 but himself? 
 
 Jlli. Did he not carry you yesterday to the 
 
 play ? 
 
 Peggy. Ay ; but we sat amongst ugly people : 
 he would not let me come near the gentry, who 
 sat under us, so that I could not see 'em. He 
 told me none but naughty women sat there ; 
 but I would have ventured for all that. 
 
 Ali. But how did you like the play ? 
 
 Peggy. Indeed I was weary of the play; but 
 I liked hugeously the actors ; they are the good- 
 liest, properest men, sister. 
 
 Alt. O, but you must not like the actors, 
 sister. 
 
 Peggy. Ay, how should I help it, sister ? Pray, 
 sister, when my guardian comes in, will you ask 
 leave for me to go a walking ? 
 
 Ali A walking ! ha, ha, ha ! Lord, a country 
 gentlewoman's pleasure is the drudgery of a 
 foot-post ; and she requires as much airing as her 
 husband's horses. {Aside.) But here comes my 
 brother; Pll ask him, though I'm sure he'll 
 not grant it. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 25 
 
 Enter Moody, l.h. 
 
 Peggy. O my dear, dear bud, welcome home ; 
 who dost thou look so fropish ? Who has nager'd 
 thee? 
 
 Moody. You're a fool. 
 
 {P^ggy goes aside and cries.") 
 
 AH. Faith, and so she is for crymg for no 
 fault ; poor tender creature ! 
 
 Moody. What, would you have her as impu- 
 dent as yourself; as arrant a girltlirt, a gadder, 
 a magpie ; and to say all, a mere notorious town 
 woman ! 
 
 Ali. Brother, you are my only censurer ; and 
 the honour of our family will soon suffer in your 
 wife that is to be, than in me, though 1 take the 
 innocent liberty of the town ! 
 
 Moody. Hark you, mistress ! do not talk so be- 
 fore my wife : the innocent liberty of the town I 
 
 Ali. Pray, what ill people frequent my lodg- 
 ings ? I keep no company with any woman of 
 scandalous reputation. 
 
 Moody. No, you keep the men of scandalous 
 reputation company. 
 
 Ali. Would you not have me civil ? Answer 
 them at public places ? Walk with them when 
 they join me in the Park, Kensington Gardens, 
 or Vauxhall ? 
 
 Moody. Hold, hold; do not teach my wife 
 where the men are to be found ; I believe she's 
 the worse for your town documents already. \ 
 bid you keep her in ignorance as I do. 
 3 
 
26 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. Indeed, be not angry with her, bud, 
 she will tell me nothing of the town, though I 
 ask her a thousand times a day. 
 
 Moody. Then you are very inquisitive to know, 
 I find. 
 
 Peggy. Not I indeed, dear ; I hate London : 
 our place-house in the country is worth a thou- 
 sand oft ; would I were there again ! 
 
 Moody. So you shall I warrant. But were 
 you not talking of plays and players when I came 
 in ? You are her encourager in such discourses. 
 
 {ToAlithea.) 
 
 Peggy. No, indeed dear ; she chid me just 
 now for liking the player-men. 
 
 Moody. Nay, if she is so innocent as to own 
 to me her liking them, there's no harm in't. 
 {Aside.) Come, my poor rogue, but thou likest 
 none better than me ? 
 
 Peggy. Yes, indeed, but I do : the player men 
 are finer folks. 
 
 Moody. But you love none better than me ? 
 
 Peggy. You are my own dear bud, and I know 
 you : I hate strangers. 
 
 Moody. Ay, my dear, you must love me only ; 
 and not be hke the naughty town women, who 
 only hate their husbands, and love every man 
 else ; love plays, visits, fine coaches, fine clothes, 
 fiddles, balls, treats, and so lead a wicked town 
 life. 
 
 Peggy. Nay, if to enjoy all these things be a 
 town life, London is not so bad a place dear. 
 
 Moody. How ! if you love me you must hate 
 London. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 27 
 
 Peggy. But, bud, do the town women love the 
 player men too ? 
 
 Moody. Ay I warrant you. 
 
 Peggy. Ay, I warrant you. 
 
 Moody. Why, you do not I hope ? 
 
 Peggy. No, no, bud ; but why have we no 
 player-men in the country ? 
 
 Moody. Ha ! Mrs. Minx, ask me no more to 
 go to a play. 
 
 Peggy. Nay, why, love ? I did not care for 
 going ; but when you forbid me, you make me as 
 it were desire it. Pray let me go to a play, 
 dear? 
 
 Moody. Hold your peace ; I won't. 
 
 Peggy. Why, love? 
 
 Moody. Why, I'll tell you. 
 
 Peggy. Pray, why, dear? 
 
 Moody. First, you like the actors : and the gal- 
 lants may like you. 
 
 Peggy. What, a homely country girl ? No, bud, 
 nobody will hke me. 
 
 Moody. I tell you yes, they may. 
 
 Peggy. No, no, you jest — I won't believe you ; 
 I will go. 
 
 Moody. I tell you then, that one of the most 
 raking fellows in town, who saw you there, told 
 me he was in love with you. 
 
 Peggy. Indeed : who, who, pray, who was't ? 
 
 Moody. I've gone too far, and »slipt before I 
 was aware. How overjoy'd she is I (^Aside.) 
 
 Peggy. Was it any Hampshire gallant ? any of 
 our neighbours ? — 'Promise you I am beholden 
 to hira. 
 
28 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Moody. I promise you, you lie ; for he would 
 but ruin you, as he has done hundreds. 
 
 Peggy. Ay, but if he loves me, why should he 
 ruin me ? Answer me to that. Methinks he 
 should not ; I would do him no harm. 
 
 Ali. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Moody. 'Tis very well ; but I'll keep him 
 from doing you any harm, or me either. But 
 here comes company ; get you in, get you in. 
 
 Peggy. But pray, husband is he a pretty gen- 
 tleman that loves me ? 
 
 Moody. In baggage, in. (^Thrusts her in, r.h.d. 
 nnd shuts the Door.) What, all the libertines of 
 the town brought to my lodging by this easy cox- 
 comb I *Sdeath, Til not suffer it. 
 
 Enter Sparkish, Harcourt, and Belville, l.H. 
 
 Spark. Here, Belville, do you approve my 
 choice ? Dear little rogue, I told you I'd bring 
 you acquainted with ali my friends, the wits. 
 
 (7b Jlithea."^ 
 
 Moody. Ay, they shall know her as well as 
 you yourself will, I warrant you. (^Aside.) 
 
 Spark. This is one of those, my pretty rogue, 
 that are to dance at your wedding to-morrow ; 
 and one you must make welcome; for he's mo- 
 dest. (^Belville crosses and salutes Alithea ; — Har. 
 does the same) Harcourt makes himself welcome, 
 and has not the same foible, though of the same 
 family. 
 
 Har. You are too obliging, Sparkish. 
 
 {Alithea and Sparkish retire up the sta^c") 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 29 
 
 Moody. And so he is indeed. The fop's horns 
 will as naturally ?prout upon his brows as mush- 
 rooms upon dung-hills. (^^side.) 
 
 Har. This, Mr. Moody, is my nephew you 
 mentioned to me. I would bring him with me ; 
 for a sight of him will be sufficient, without 
 poppy or mandragora to restore you to your 
 rest. {Joins Alithea and Sparkish.) 
 
 Bel. I am sorry, sir, that any mistake or im- 
 prudence of mine should have given you any 
 uneasiness : it was not so intended, 1 assure you, 
 sir. 
 
 Moody. It may be so, sir, but not the less 
 criminal for that. — My wife, sir, must not be 
 smirk'd and nodded at from tavern windows. I 
 am a good shot, young gentleman, and don't suf- 
 fer magpies to come near my cherries. 
 
 Bel. Was it your wife, sir ? 
 
 Moody. What's that to you, sir ? Suppose it 
 were my grandmother ? 
 
 Bel. 1 would not dare to offend her. — Permit 
 me to say a word in private to you. 
 
 [Exeunt Moody and Bel. l.h. 
 
 Spark. Now old surly is gone, tell me, Har- 
 court, if thou likest her as well as ever. — 
 {Crosses to centre.) My dear, don't look down ; 
 I should hate to have a wife of mine out of coun- 
 tenance at any thing. 
 
 AH, (r.h.) For shame, Mr. Sparkish ! 
 
 Spark. Tell me, I say, Harcourt, how dost 
 like her ? Thou hast stared upon her enough to 
 resolve me. 
 
 Har. (l.h.) So infinitely well, that I could 
 
 o 
 
3@ THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 wish I had a mistress too, that might differ from 
 her in nothing but her love and engagement to 
 you. 
 
 Ali. Sir, Mr. Sparkish has often told me that 
 his acquaintance were all wits and railers; and 
 now 1 find it. 
 
 Spark. No, by the universe, madam, he does 
 not rally noxv ; you may believe him. I do as- 
 sure you he is the honestest, worthiest, truest- 
 hearted gentleman ; a man of such perfect ho- 
 nour, he would say nothing to a lady he does 
 not mean. 
 
 Har. Sir, you are so beyond expectation obli- 
 ging that — 
 
 Spark. Nay, 'egad, I am sure you do admire 
 her extremely ; 1 see it in your eyes. — He does 
 admire you, madam ; he has told me so a thou- 
 sand and a thousand times ; have you not, Har- 
 court ? You do admire her, by the world, you do 
 — don't you? 
 
 Har. Yes, above the world, or the most glo- 
 rious part of it, her whole sex; and till now I 
 never thought 1 should have envied you or any 
 man about to marry ; but you have the best ex- 
 cuse to marry I ever knew. 
 
 Ali. Nay, now, sir, I am satisfied you are of 
 the society of the wits and railers, since you 
 cannot spare your friend, even when he is most 
 civil to you ; but the surest sign is, you are an 
 enemy to marriage, the common butt of every 
 railer. 
 
 Har. Truly, madam, I was never an enemy 
 to marriage till now, because marriage was 
 never an enemy to me before. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 31 
 
 AH. But why, sir, is marriage an enemy to 
 you now ? Because it robs you of your friend 
 here ? For you look upon a friend married as 
 one gone into a monastery, that is dead to the 
 world. 
 
 Har. 'Tis indeed because you marry him : I 
 see, madam, you can guess my meaning. — I do 
 confess heartily and openly, I wish it were in 
 my power to break the match ; by heavens I 
 would. 
 
 Spark. Poor Frank ! 
 
 AH. Would you be so unkind to me ? 
 
 Har. No, no, 'tis not because I would be un- 
 kind to you. 
 
 Spark. Poor Frank ! No, 'egad, 'tis only his 
 kindness to me. 
 
 AH. Great kindness to you indeed ! — Insensi- 
 ble ! Let a man make love to his mistress to his 
 face. {Aside.) 
 
 Spark. Come, dear Frank, for all my wife 
 there, that shall be, thou shall enjoy my compa- 
 ny sometimes, dear rogue. — By my honour, we 
 men of wit condole for our deceased brother in 
 marriage, as much as for one dead in earnest. 
 I think that was prettily said of me, ha, Har- 
 court. Pr'ythee, Frank dost think my wife 
 that shall be, there, a tine person ? 
 
 Har. I could gaze upon her till I became as 
 blind as you are. 
 
 Spark. How as I am ? How ? 
 
 Har. Because you are a lover ; and true lovers 
 are blind. 
 
 Spark. True, true ; but by the world she has 
 Tvit too as well as beauty. Go, go, with her in- 
 
152 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 to a corner, and try if she has wit ; {He puts 
 Har. over to Ali) talk to her any thing, she's 
 bashful before me— take her into a corner. 
 
 (Har. courts Alithea aside^ R.h.) 
 
 Re-enter Moody, l.h. 
 
 Moody, How, sir ! If you are not concerned 
 for the honour of a wife, I am for that of a sis- 
 ter. — Be a pander to your own wife, bring men 
 to her, let 'em make love before your face, 
 thrust them into a corner together, then leave 
 'em in private I Is this your town wit and con- 
 duct ? 
 
 Spark. Ha, ha, ha ! a silly, wise rogue would 
 make one laugh more than a stark fool, ha, ha, 
 ha ! 1 shall burst. Nay, you shall not disturb 
 'em ; I'll vex thee by the world. What have 
 you done with Belville ? 
 
 {Struggles with Moody to keep him from Har- 
 court and Alithea.) 
 
 Moody. Shown him the way out of my house, 
 as you should to that gentleman. 
 
 Spark. Nay, but pr'ythee let me reason with 
 thee. {Talks apart with Moody .^ l.h.) 
 
 Ali. The writings are drawn, sir, settlements 
 made : 'tis too late sir, and past all revocation. 
 
 Har. Then so is my death. 
 
 Ali. I would not be unjust to him. 
 
 Har. Then why to me so ? 
 
 Ali. I have no obligations to you. 
 
 Har. My love. 
 
 All. I had his before. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 33 
 
 Har. You never had it: he wants you see, 
 jealousy, the only infallible sig-n of it. 
 
 AH. Love proceeds from esteem : he cannot 
 distrust my virtue ; besides, he loves me, or he 
 would not marry me. 
 
 Har. Marrying you is no more a sign of his 
 love, than bribing your woman, that he may 
 marry you is a sign of his generosity. But if 
 you take marriage for a sign of love, take it 
 from me immediately. 
 
 AH. No, now you have put a scruple in my 
 head. — But in short, sir, to end our dispute, I 
 must marry him ; my reputation would suffer in 
 the world else. 
 
 Har. No : if you do marry him, with your 
 pardon, madam, your reputation must suffer in 
 the world. 
 
 AH. Nay, now you are rude, sir. — Mr. Spark- 
 ish, pray come hither, your friend here is very 
 troublesome and very loving. 
 
 Har. Hold, hold. {Aside to AHthea.) 
 
 Moody. D'ye hear that senseless puppy ? 
 
 Spark. Why, d'ye think I'll seem jealous, like 
 a country bumpkin ? 
 
 Moody. No, rather be dishonour'd like a cre- 
 dulous driveller. {They retire up the stage., l.h.) 
 
 Har Madam, you would not have been so 
 little generous as to have told him 1 
 
 AH. Yes, since you could be so little generous 
 as to wrong him. 
 
 Har. Wrong him ! no man can do it ; he's 
 beneath an injury : a bubble, a coward, a sense- 
 less idiot ; a wretch, so contemptible to all the 
 tvorld but you, that — 
 
34 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 AH. Hold, do not rail at him ; for since he is 
 like to be my husband, I am resolved to like 
 him : nay 1 think I am obliged to tell him you 
 are not his friend.— Mr. Sparkish ! Mr. Sparkish ! 
 
 {Crosses to him.) 
 
 Spark. What, what ? — Now, dear rogue, has 
 she not wit ? 
 
 Har. Not so much as I thought, and hoped 
 she had. {Surlily.) 
 
 AH. Mr. Sparkish, do you bring people to rail 
 at you ? 
 
 Har. Madam ! 
 
 Spark. How ? No ; but if he does rail at me, 
 'tis but in jest, 1 warrant : what we wits do for 
 one another, and never lake any notice of it. 
 
 AH. He spoke so scurrilously of you, I had no 
 patience to hear him. 
 
 Moody. And he was in the right on't. 
 
 AH. Besides, he has been making love to me. 
 
 Moody. And I told the fool so. 
 
 Har. True, damn'd, tell tale woman. {Aside.) 
 
 Spark. Pshaw ! to show his parts ; we wits 
 rail and make love often, but to show our parts : 
 as we have no affections, so we have no malice ? 
 We— 
 
 Moody. Did you ever hear such an ass ? 
 
 AH. He said you were a wretch below an 
 injury 
 
 Spark. Pshaw ! 
 
 AH. A common bubble. 
 
 Spark. Pshaw I 
 
 AH. A coward. 
 
 Spark. Pshaw ! pshaw ! 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 35 
 
 AH. A senseless, drivelling idiot. 
 
 Moody. True, true, true ; all true. 
 
 Spark. How ! did he disparage my parts ? 
 Nay then, my honour's concerned 1 can't put 
 up that. Brother help me to kill him. 
 
 {Offers to draw.) 
 
 All Hold ! hold ! 
 
 Moody. If Harcourt would but kill Sparkish, 
 and run away with my sister, I should be rid oi' 
 three plagues at once. {Aside^ l.h.) 
 
 AH. Indeed, to tell the truth, the gentleman 
 said, after all, that what he spoke was but out 
 of friendship to you. 
 
 Spark. How ! say I am a fool, that is no wit, 
 out dif friendship to me ? 
 
 All Yes, to try whether 1 was concerned 
 enough for you ; and made love to me only to 
 be satisfied of my virtue, for your sake. 
 
 Har. Kind, however ! (Aside.) 
 
 Spark, Nay, if it were so, my dear rogue, I 
 ask thee pardon ; but why would not you tell me 
 so, 'faith ? 
 
 Har. Because I did not think on't, 'faith. 
 
 Spark. Come, Belville is gone away : Har- 
 court, let's be gone to the new play; come, 
 madam. (Crosses to l.h.) 
 
 AH. I will not go, if you intend to leave me 
 alone in the box, and run all about the house, 
 as you used to do. 
 
 Spark. Pshaw ! I'll leave Harcourt with you 
 in the box, to entertain you, and that's as good. 
 If I sat in the box, I should be thought no critic. 
 i must run about, my dear, and abuse the author. 
 
36 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Come, away, Karcourt, lead her down. B'ye, 
 brother. 
 
 [Exeunt Harcourt^ Sparkish^ and Alithea^ l.h. 
 Moody. B'ye, driveller. Well, go thy ways, 
 for the flower of the true town fops ; such as 
 spend their estates before they come to 'em, 
 and are cuckolds before they're married. But 
 let me go look to my freehold. 
 
 Enter a Countryman^ l.h. 
 
 Country. Master, your worship's servant. Here 
 is the lawyer, counsellor gentleman, with a green 
 bag full of papers, come again, and would be 
 glad to speak to you. 
 
 Moody. Now here's some other damn'd impe- 
 diment, which the law has thrown in our way, 
 1 shall never marry the girl, nor get clear of the 
 smoke and wickedness of this cursed town. 
 (^Aside.) Where is he ? 
 
 Country. He's below in a coach, with three 
 other lawyers, counsellor gentlemen. 
 
 [Exeunt^ l.h. 
 
 SCENE n.— Mother Chamber. 
 Enter Peggy and Lucy, r.h. 
 
 Lucy. What ails you, miss Peggy ? You are 
 grown quite melancholy. 
 
 Peggy. Would it not make any one melan- 
 choly to see your mistress Alithea go e\ery 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 37 
 
 day fluttering about abroad to plays and assem- 
 blies, and I know not what, whilst I must stay at 
 home, like a poor, lonely, sullen bird in a cage? 
 Lucy. Dear miss Peggy, I thought you chose 
 to be confined : I imagined that you had been 
 bred so young to the cage, that you had no 
 pleasure in tlying about, and hopping in the 
 open air, as other young ladies, who go a little 
 wild about this town. 
 
 Peggy. Nay, I confess I was quiet enough, till 
 somebody told me what pure lives the London 
 ladies lead, with their dancing meetmgs, and 
 junketings, and dress'd every day in their best 
 gowns ; and I warrant you play at nine-pins every 
 day in the week, so they do. 
 
 Lucy. To be sure, miss, you will lead a better 
 life when joind in holy wedlock with your 
 sweet-temperM guardian, the cheerful Mr. Moody. 
 Peggy. I can't lead a worse, that's one good 
 thing ; but I must make the best of a bad 
 market, for I can't marry nobody else. 
 Lucy. How so, miss? i'hat's very strange. 
 Peggy. Why we have a contraction to one 
 another ; so we are as good as married, you 
 know. 
 
 Lucy. I know it ! Heaven forbid, miss. 
 Peggy. Heigho ! 
 
 Lucy. Don't sigh, miss Peggy ; if that young 
 gentleman, who was here just now, would take 
 pity on me, Pd throw such a contract as yours 
 behind the fire. 
 
 Peggy. Lord bless us, how you talk ! 
 4 
 
38 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Lucy. Young Mr. Belville would make you 
 talk otherwise, if you knew him. 
 
 Peggy- Mr. Belville !— Where is he?— When 
 did you see him? — Vou have undone me, Lucy; 
 where was he ? Did he say any thing ? 
 
 Lucy. Say any thing ! very little indeed ; 
 he's quite distracted, poor young creature 1 
 He was talking with your guardian just now. 
 
 Peggy. The deuce he was ! — but where was 
 it, and when was it ? 
 
 Lucy. In this house, five minutes ago, when 
 your guardian turnVl you into your chamber, for 
 fear of your being seen. 
 
 Peggy. I knew something was the matter, I 
 was in such a fluster. But what did he say to 
 my bud ? 
 
 Lucy. What do you call him bud for? Bud 
 means husband, and he is not your husband yet, 
 and I hope never will be ; and if he was my 
 husband I'd bud him, a surly, unreasonable 
 beast. 
 
 Peggy. I'd call him any names, to keep him in 
 good humour ; if he'd let me marry any body 
 else (which I can't do,) I'd call him husband as 
 long as he lived. — But what said Mr. Belville 
 to him ? 
 
 Lucy. I don't know what he said to him, but 
 I'll tell you what he said to me, with a sigh, and 
 his hand upon his breast, as he went out of the 
 door — " If you ever were in love, young gen- 
 tlewoman (meaning me), and can pity a most 
 faithful lover, tell the dear object of my affec- 
 tions " 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 39 
 
 Peggy. Meaning me, Lucy ? 
 
 Lucy. Yes, you, to be sure. " Tell the dear 
 object of my affections, I live but upon the 
 hopes that she is not married ; and when those 
 hopes leave me, she knows the rest;'' then he 
 cast up his eyes, thus — gnash'd his teeth— struck 
 his forehead — would have spoke again, but he 
 could not — fetch'd a deep sigh, and vanished. 
 
 Peggy. 'I hat is really very fine; 1 am sure it 
 makes my heart sink within me, and brings tears 
 into my eyes ! O, he's a charming sweet — But 
 hush, hush, 1 hear my husband. 
 
 Lucy. Don't call him husband. Go into the 
 Park this evening, if you can. 
 
 Peggy. Mum, mum. 
 
 Enter Moody, l.it. 
 
 Moody. Come, what's here to do ; you are 
 putting the town pleasures in her head, and set- 
 ting her a longing. 
 
 Lucy. Yes, after nine-pins ; you suffer none to 
 give her those longings but yourself. 
 
 Moody. Come, Mrs. Flippant, good precepts 
 are lost when bad examples are still before us: 
 the liberty your mistress takes abroad makes 
 her hanker after it, and out of humour at home. 
 Poor wretch ! she desired not to come to Lon- 
 don ; I would bring her. 
 
 Lucy. O yes, you surfeit her with pleasures. 
 
 Moody. She has been this fortnight in town, 
 and never desired, till this afternoon, to go 
 abroad. 
 
40 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Iaicij. Was she not at the play yesterday ? 
 Moody. Yes, but she never ask'd me ; 1 was 
 myself the cause of her going. 
 
 Lucy. Then if she ask you again, you are the 
 cause of her asking, and not my mistress. 
 
 Moody. Well, next week I shall be rid of you 
 all, rid of this town, and my dreadful apprehen- 
 sions. Come, be not meinncholy, for thou shalt 
 go into the country very soon, dearest. 
 
 Peggy. Pish ! what d'ye tell me of the coun- 
 try for ? 
 
 Moody. How's this ? What, flout at the coun- 
 try? 
 
 Peggy. Let me alone, I am not well. 
 
 Moody. O, if that be all — what ails my dear- 
 est ? 
 
 Peggy. Truly I don't know ; but I have not 
 been well since you told me there was a gallant 
 at the play in love with me. 
 
 Moody. Ha ! 
 
 Lucy. That's my mistress too. 
 
 Moody. Nay, if you are not well, but are so 
 concerned because a raking fellow chanced to 
 lie, and say he liked you, you'll make me sick 
 too. 
 
 Peggy. Of what sickness ? 
 
 Moody. O, of that which is worse than the 
 plague ; jealousy ! 
 
 Peggy. Pish ! you jeer : I'm sure there's no 
 such disease in your receipt-book at home. 
 
 Moody. No, you never met with it, poor in- 
 nocent. 
 
 P^ggy- Well, but pray, bud, let's go to a play 
 to-night. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 41 
 
 Moody. No, no ; no more plays. But why 
 are you so eager to see a play ? 
 
 Peggy. Faith, dear, not that I care one pin 
 for their talk there ; but I like to look upon the 
 player-men, and would see, if I could, the gal- 
 lant you say loves me ; that's all, dear bud. 
 
 Moody. Is that all, dear bud ? 
 
 Lucy. {Aside.) This proceeds from my mis- 
 tress''s exam(3le. 
 
 Peggy. Let's go abroad, however, dear bud, 
 if we don t go to the play. 
 
 Moody. Come, have a little patience, and thou 
 ahalt go into the country next week. 
 
 Peggy. Therefore 1 would first see some 
 sights to tell my neighbours of: nay, I will go 
 abroad, that's once. 
 
 Moody. What, you have put this into her 
 head? {To Lucy.) 
 
 Lucy. Heaven defend me, what suspicions ! 
 somebody has put more things into your head 
 than you ought to have. 
 
 Moody. Your tongue runs too glibly, madam ; 
 and you have lived too long with a London lady, 
 to be a proper companion for innocence. I am 
 not over-fond of you, mistress. 
 
 Lucy. There's no love lost between us. 
 
 Moody. You admitted those gentlemen into 
 the house, when I said I would not be at home ; 
 and there was the young fellow too who be- 
 haved so indecent to my wife at the tavern win- 
 dow. 
 
 Lucy. Because you would not let him see your 
 
 handsome wife out of your lodgings. 
 4* 
 
42 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. Why, O Lord, did the gentleman come 
 hither to see me indeed ? 
 
 Moody. No, no. You are not the cause of 
 that damn'd question too ? {To Lucy.) 
 
 Peggy. Come, pray, bud, let's go abroad be- 
 fore His late : for I will go, that's fiat and plain 
 — only into the Park. 
 
 Moody. So ! the obstinacy already of the town 
 wife ; and I must, while she's here, humour her 
 like one. — (Aside.) How shall we do, that she 
 may not be seen or known ? 
 
 Lucy. Muffle her up with a bonnet and cloak, 
 and I'll go with her to avoid suspicion. 
 
 Moody. No, no, I am obliged to you for your 
 kindness, but she shan't stir without me. 
 
 Lucy. What will you do then ? 
 
 Peggy. What shall we go ? I am sick with 
 staying at home : if I don't walk in the Park, I'll 
 do nothing that I'm bid for a week — I won't be 
 mop'd. 
 
 Lticy. O she has a charming spirit ! I could 
 stand your friend now, and would, if you had 
 ever a civil word to give me. {To Moody.) 
 
 Moody. I'll give thee a better thing, I'll give 
 thee a guinea for thy good advice, if I like it ; 
 and I can have the best of the college for the 
 same money. 
 
 Lucy. I despise a bribe : when I am your 
 friend, it shall be without fee or reward. 
 
 Peggy. Don't be long then, for I will go out. 
 
 Lucy. The tailor brought home last night the 
 clothes you intend for a present to your godson 
 in the country. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 43. 
 
 Peggy. You must not tell that, Lucy. 
 
 Lucy. But I will, madam. When you were 
 with your lawyers last night, miss Peg-gy, to di- 
 vert me and herself, put 'em on, and they fitted 
 her to a hair. 
 
 Moody. 1'hank you, thank you, Lucy, 'tis the 
 luckiest thought ! Go this moment, Peggy, into 
 your chamber, and put 'em on again — and you 
 shall walk with me into the Park, as my godson. 
 Well thought of, Lucy ; 1 shall love you for ev- 
 er for this. 
 
 Peggy. And so shall I too, Lucy : I'll put 'em 
 on directly. (^Going.) 1 suppose, bud, I must 
 keep on my petticoats for fear of showing my 
 legs? 
 
 Moody. No, no, you fool, never mind your 
 legs. [Exeunt Peggy ^ r.h.d. Moody, l.h. 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— TAe Park. 
 
 Enter Belville and Harcourt, r.h. 
 
 Bel. And the moment Moody left me, I took 
 an opportunity of conveying some tender senti- 
 ments through Lucy to miss Peggy ; and here I 
 
44 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 am, in expectation of seeing my country god- 
 dess. 
 
 Har. And so to blind Moody, and take him off 
 the scent of your passion lor this girl, and at the 
 same time to give me an opportunity with Spar- 
 kish s mistress (and of vvh.ch 1 h^ve made the 
 most), you halted to him with a grave melan- 
 choly face that you were dying for his sister — 
 Gad-amercy, nephew ! 1 will back thy modesty 
 against any other in the three kingdoms : it will 
 do, Uick. 
 
 Bel. What could I do, uncle ? — It was my last 
 stake, and I play'd for a great deal. 
 
 Har You mistake me, Dick : I don't say you 
 could do better, 1 only can't account for your 
 modesty's doing so much : you have done such 
 wonders, that I, who am rather bold than sheep- 
 ish, have not yet ceased wondering at you But 
 do you think that you imposed upon him? 
 
 Bel. Faith, I can't say ; he said very little, 
 grumbled much, shook his head, and showed me 
 the door. — But what success have you had with 
 Alithea ? 
 
 Har. Just enough to have a glimmering of 
 hope, without having light enough to see an inch 
 before my nose. — This day will produce some- 
 thing : Alithea is a woman of great honour, and 
 will sacrifice her happiness to it, unless Spark- 
 ish s absurdity stands my friend, and does every 
 thing that the fates ought to do for me. 
 
 Bel. Yonder comes the prince of coxcombs, 
 and if your mistress and mine should, by chance, 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 45 
 
 be tripping this way, this fellow will spoil sport : 
 let us avoid him— you can't cheat him before his 
 face. 
 
 Har. But I can though, thanks to my wit, and 
 his want of it. 
 
 Bel. But you cannot come near his mistress 
 but in his company. 
 
 Har. Still the better for me, nephew, for 
 fools are most easily cheated, when they them- 
 selves are accessaries ; and he is to be bubbled 
 of his mistress, or of his money (the common 
 mistress), by keeping him company. 
 
 Enter Sparkish, r.h. 
 
 Spark. Who's that that is to be bubbled? 
 Faith, let me snack ; I han t met with a bubble 
 since Christmas. 'Gad, I think bubbles Uke 
 their brother woodcocks, go out with the cold 
 weather. 
 
 Har. He did not hear all, I hope. 
 
 (Apart to Bel.) 
 
 Spark. (Crosses to centre.) Come you bubbling 
 rogues, you, where do we sup ? O Harcourt, 
 my mistress tells me you have made love, fierce 
 love to her last night, all the play long; ha, ha, 
 ha !— but I 
 
 Har. I make love to her ? 
 
 Spark. Nay, I forgive thee, and I know her; 
 but I am sure I know myself 
 
 Bel. Do you, sir ? Then you are the wisest 
 man in the world, and 1 honour you as such. 
 
 (Bows.) 
 
 Spark. O, your servant^ sir : you are at your 
 
46 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 raillery, are you ! You can't oblige me more ; 
 I'm your man : he'll meet with his match. Ha t 
 Harcourt ! did not you hear me laugh prodi- 
 giously at the play last night ? 
 
 Har, Yes, and was very much disturb'd at it. 
 You put the actors and audience into confusion, 
 and all your friends out of countenance. 
 
 Spark. So much the better: I love confusion, 
 and to see folks out of countenance ; I was in tip- 
 top spirits, faith, and sjiid a thousand good things. 
 
 Bel. But I thought you had gone to plays to 
 laugh at the poet's good things, and not at your 
 own. 
 
 Spark. Your servant, sir; no, I thank you. 
 'Gad I go to a play as to a country treat : I carry 
 my own wine to one, and my own wit to t'other, 
 or else I'm sure 1 should not be merry at either; 
 and the reason why we are so often louder than 
 the players is, because we hate authors damna- 
 bly. 
 
 Bel. But why should you hate the poor 
 rogues? You have too much wit, and despise 
 writing, I'm sure. 
 
 Spark. O yes, I despise writing ; but women, 
 women, that make men do all foolish things, 
 make 'em write songs too. Every body does it ; 
 'tis e'en as common with lovers, as playing with 
 fans : and you can no more help rhymmgtoyour 
 Phillis, than drinking lo your Fhillis. 
 
 Har. But the poets damn'd your songs, did 
 they ? 
 
 Spark. Damn the poets : they turn'd them in- 
 to burlesque as they call it : that burlesque is a 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 47 
 
 hocus-pocus trick they have got, which, hy the 
 virtue of hiccius-doccius, topsy-turvy, they make 
 a clever witty thing absolute nonsense ! Do you 
 know, Harcourt, that they ridiculed my last 
 song? " Twang, twang," the best I ever wrote. 
 
 Har. That may be, and be very easily ridi- 
 culed for all that. 
 
 Bel Favour me with it, sir; 1 never heard it. 
 
 Spark. What, and have all the Park about us? 
 
 Har. Which you'll not dislike ; and so, pr'ythee, 
 begin. 
 
 Spark. I never am ask'd twice, and so have 
 at you. 
 
 Tell me not of the roses and lilies 
 
 Which tinge the fair cheek of your Philis ; 
 
 Tell me not of the dimples and eyes^ 
 
 For which silly Corydon dies. 
 Let all whining lovers go hang ; 
 
 My heart would you hit, 
 
 Tip your arrow with wit, 
 Jind it comes t> my heart with a twang, twang, 
 And it comes to my heart with a twang. 
 
 (^At the end of the Song Harcourt and Belville 
 steal away l.h.v.e. from Sparkish, and leave him 
 singing ; he sinks his Voice by degrees at the 
 surprise of their being gone. 
 
 Re-enter Harcourt and Belville, l.h.u.e. 
 What the deuce did you go away for ? 
 
48 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Har. Your mistress is coming. 
 
 Spark. The devil she is! O hide, hide me 
 from her. {^Hides behind Har court.) 
 
 Har. She sees you. 
 
 Spark. But I will not see her ; for Pm en- 
 gaged, and at this instant. {Looking at his Watch) 
 
 Har. Fray first take me, and reconcile me to 
 her. 
 
 Spark. Another time ; faith, it is the Uidy, and 
 one cannot make excuses to a woman. 
 
 Bel. You have need of 'em I beheve. 
 
 Spark. Pshaw, pr'ythee hide me. 
 
 Enter Moody, Peggy, in Boy's Clothes^ and 
 
 Har. Your servant, Mr. Moody. 
 
 Moody. Come along. {To Peggy.) 
 
 Peggy. Lau! what a sweet delightful place 
 this is ! 
 
 Moody. Come along, T say. don't stare about 
 you so ; you'll betray yourself 
 [Exit Moody., pulling Peggy., Mithea following^ r.h. 
 
 Har. He does not know us. 
 
 Bel. Or he won't know us. {Crosses to r.h.) 
 
 Spark. So much the better. 
 
 [Exit Belville after them, r.h. 
 
 Har. Who is that pretty youth with him, 
 Sparkish ? 
 
 Spark. Some relation of Peggy's, I suppose : 
 for he is something like her in face and gaw- 
 kiness. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 49 
 
 Re-enter Belville, r.h. 
 
 Bel By all my hopes, uncle, Peggy in boy's 
 clothes. 1 am all over agitation. 
 
 [Jlpart to Harcourt.) 
 
 Har. Be quiet, or you'll spoil all. They re- 
 turn. — Alithea has seen you, Sparkish, and will 
 be angry if you don't go to her : besides, 1 would 
 fain be reconciled to her, which none but you 
 can do, my dear friend. 
 
 Spark. Well, that's a better reason, dear 
 friend : I would not go near her now for her's 
 or my own sake ; but I can deny you nothing : 
 for though 1 have known thee a great while, 
 never go, if I do not love thee as well as a new 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Har. I am obliged to you, indeed, my dear 
 friend : I would.be well with her, only to be well 
 with thee still ; for these ties to wives usually 
 dissolve all ties to friends. 
 
 Spark. But they shan't though. Come along. 
 
 {They retire^ l.h.) 
 
 Re-enter Moody, Peggy, and Alithea, r.h. 
 
 Moody. Sister, if you will not go, we must 
 leave you. {To Alithea.) The fool, her gallant, 
 and she will muster up all the young saunterers 
 of this place. What a swarm of cuckolds and 
 cuckold-makers are here ! 1 begin to be uneasy. 
 {Aside.) Come, let's be gone, Peggy. 
 5 
 
50 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. Don't you believe that ; I han't half 
 my belly-full of sights yet. 
 
 Moody. Then walk this way. 
 
 Peggy Lord, what a power of fine folks are 
 here. — And Mr. Belville, as I hope to be mar- 
 ried. (^Aside ) 
 
 Moody. Come along* ; what are you mutter- 
 ing at? 
 
 Peggy. There's the young gentleman there, 
 you were so angry about, that's in love with me. 
 
 Aloody. No, no ; he's a dangler after your sis- 
 ter, or pretends to be ; but they are all bad alike. 
 Come along, I sa}'. 
 
 [Moody pulls Peggy away. Exeunt Peggy and 
 Moody, L.H. Belville following. Sparkish^ 
 Har court, and Alithea come forward. 
 
 Spark. Come dear madam, for my sake you 
 shall be reconciled to him. 
 
 Jli. For your sake I hate him- 
 
 Har. That's something too cruel, madam, to 
 hate me for his sake. 
 
 Spark. Ay, indeed, madam, too cruel to me, to 
 hate my friend for my sake. 
 
 AH. I hate him because he is your enemy ; and 
 you ought to hate him too, for making love to 
 me, if you love me. 
 
 Spark. That's a good one ! I hate a man for 
 loving you ? If he did love you, 'tis but what he 
 can't help ; and 'tis your fault, not his, if he ad- 
 mires you. 
 
 AH. Is it for your honour, or mine, to suffer a 
 man to make love to me, who am to marry you 
 to-morrow ? 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 51 
 
 Har. {Crosses to Centre.) But why, dearest 
 madam, will you be more concerned for his 
 honour than he is himself? Let his honour alone, 
 for ra}' sake and his. He has no honour. 
 
 Spark How's that? 
 
 Bar. But what my dear friend can guard 
 him^^eif? 
 
 Spark. O ho — thafs r-ght again. 
 
 Mi. You astonisli me. S:r, with want of jealousy. 
 
 Spark. And you make me giddy, madam, with 
 your jealousy and fe:irs, and virtue and honour. 
 'Gad, I see virtue makes a woman as troublesome 
 as a little reading or learning. 
 
 Har. Come, madam, you see you strive in 
 Tain to make him jealous of me : my dear friend 
 is the kindest creature in the world to me. 
 
 Spark. Poor fellow ! 
 
 Har. But his kindness only is not enough for 
 me, without your favour, your good opinion, 
 dear madam : 'tis that must perfect my happi- 
 ness. Good gentleman, he believes all I say: 
 'would you would do so ! — Jealous of me ! I 
 would not wrong him nor you for the world. 
 
 Spark. Look you there : hear him, hear him, 
 and not walk away so ; come back again. 
 
 {Alitkea walks carelessly to and fro.) 
 
 Har. I love you, madam, so — 
 
 Spark. How's that? Nay, now you begin to 
 go too tar indeed. 
 
 Har. So much, I confess I say I love you, that 
 I would not have you miserable, and cast your- 
 self away upon so unworthy and inconsiderable 
 a thing as what vou see here. 
 
52 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 (^Claps his Hand on his Breast, and points to 
 Sparkish.) 
 
 Spark. No, faith, I believe thou wouldst not; 
 novv his meaning- is plain ; but I knew before 
 thou vvouklst not wrong- me nor her. 
 
 Har. No, no, heavens forbid the glory of her 
 sex should fall so low as into the embraces of 
 such a contemptible wretch, the least of man- 
 kind — my dear friend here — 1 injure him. 
 
 {^Embraces Sparkish.) 
 
 Mi. Very well. 
 
 Spark. No, no, dear friend, 1 knew it : madam, 
 you see he will rather wrong himself than me in 
 giving himself such names. 
 
 Jlli. Do not you understand him yet? 
 
 Spark. Come, come, you shall stay till he has 
 saluted you. 
 
 Re-enter Moody and Peggy, l.h. Belville at a 
 distance. 
 
 Moody. What, invite your wife to kiss men ? 
 Monstrous ! Are you not ashamed ? 
 
 Spark. Are you not ashamed that X should 
 have more confidence in the chastity of your 
 family than you have ? You must not teach me : 
 1 am a man of honour, sir, though 1 am frank and 
 free ; I am frank, sir — 
 
 Moody. Very frank, sir, to share your wife 
 with your friends. — You seem to be angry, and 
 yet won't go. {To Alithea.) 
 
 AH. No impertinence shall drive me away. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 53 
 
 Moody. Because 3'ou like it. — But you ought 
 to blush at exposing your wife as you do. 
 
 {To Sparkish.) 
 
 Spark. What then ? It may be I have a plea- 
 sure in't as I have to show fine clothes at a play- 
 house the first day, and count money before 
 poor rogues 
 
 Moody. He that shows his wife or money, will 
 be in danger of having them borrowed some- 
 times. 
 
 Spark. I love to be envied, and would not 
 marry a wife that I alone could love. Loving 
 alone is as dull as eating alone^; and so good 
 night, for I must to Whitehall. — Madam, I hope 
 you are now reconciled to my friend ; and so I 
 wish you a good night, madam, and sleep if you 
 can ; for to-morrow, you know, I must visit you 
 early with a canonical gentleman Good night, 
 dear Harcourt — remember to send your brother. 
 
 [Exit^ I..H. 
 
 Har. You may depend upon me. — Madam, I 
 hope you will not refuse my visit to-morrow, if 
 it should be earlier, with a canonical gentleman, 
 than Mr Sparkish. 
 
 Moody. This gentlewoman is yet under my 
 care, therefore you must yet forbear your free- 
 dom with her. 
 
 Har. Must, sir ? 
 
 Moody. Yes, sir, she is my sister. 
 
 Har. 'Tis well she is, sir; for I must be her 
 servant, sir. — Madam — 
 
 Moody. Come away, sister ; we had been gone 
 5 * 
 
54 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 if it had not been for you, and so avoided these 
 lewd rakehells, who seem to haunt us. 
 
 Har. I see a little time in the country makes 
 a man turn wild and unsociable, and only fit to 
 converse with his horses, dogs, and his herds. 
 
 Moody. \ have business, sir, and must mind it: 
 your business is pleasure; therefore you and I 
 must ^o different ways. 
 
 Har. Well, you may go on ; but this pretty 
 young gentleman {Takes hold of Peggy.) shall 
 stay with us ; for I suppose his business is the 
 same with ours, pleasure. 
 
 Moody. 'Sdeath, he knows her, she carries it 
 so sillily; yet if he does not, I should be more 
 silly to discover it first. {Aside.) Come, come. 
 
 Har. Had you not rather stay with us? {To 
 Peggy.) Pr'ythee who is this pretty young fel- 
 low ? {To Moody.) 
 
 Moody. One to whom I am guardian. — 1 wish 
 I could keep her out of your hands. (Aside.) 
 
 Har. Who is he? I never saw any thing so 
 pretty in all my life. 
 
 Moody. Pshaw, do not look upon him so much ; 
 he's a poor, bashful youth ; you'll put him out of 
 countenance. {Offers to take her away.) 
 
 Har. Here, nephew, let me introduce this 
 young gentleman to your acquaintance. You 
 are very like, and of the same age, and should 
 know one another. Salute him, Dick, a la 
 Francoise. {Behille kisses her.) 
 
 Moody. I hate French fashions. Men kiss one 
 another. {Endeavours to take hold of her.) 
 
 Peggy. I am out of my Wits. {Aside.) What do 
 you kiss me for ? 1 am no woman. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 55 
 
 Har. But you are ten times handsomer. 
 Pesrgy. Nay, now you jeer one ; and pray 
 ^on''t jeer rne. 
 
 Har, Kiss him again, Dick. 
 
 Moody. No, no, no ; — come away, come away. 
 
 {To i'egiry.) 
 
 Har. Why, what histe you are in! Why won't 
 you let me taik wilh him ? 
 
 Moody. Because you'll dehauch him ; he's yet 
 young and innocent. — How she gnzes upon him ! 
 The devil! (Aside.) Come, pray let him go; I 
 cannot stay fooling any longer: I tell you my 
 wife stays supper for us. 
 
 Har. Does she ? Come then, we'll all go sup 
 with her. 
 
 Moody. No, no; now I think on't, having staid 
 so long for us, 1 warrant she's gone to bed. — I 
 wish she and I were well out of your hands. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Har. Well then, if she be gone to bed, 1 wish 
 her and you a good night. But pray, young 
 gentleman, present my humble service to her. 
 
 Peggy Thank you hCfH-tily, sir. 
 
 Moody. 'Sdeath, she will discover herself yet 
 in spite of me. {Aside.) 
 
 Bel. And mine too, sir. 
 
 Peggy. That I will indeed. {Bore}s.) 
 
 Har. Pray give her this kiss for me. 
 
 (Kisses Peggy. 
 
 Moody. heavens ! What do T sufter? {Aside.) 
 
 Bel. And this for me. {Kisses Peggy. 
 
 Peggy, 'i hank you, sir. 
 
 [Courtesies. Belville and Harcourt laugh., and 
 Exeunt^ l.h. 
 
56 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Moody. O the idiot! — Now 'tis out. Ten 
 thousand cankers gnaw away their hps ! (^Aside ) 
 Come, come, driveller. {^Moody^ P^^gh ^^^ 
 Alithea go out and return^ l.h.) So ihey are gone 
 at last. — Sister, stay with Feg'g-y, till I hnd my 
 servant. Don't let her stir an inch : I'll be back 
 directly. {Exit.,L.H.) 
 
 Re-enter Harcourt and Belville, l.h. 
 
 Har. What, not gone yet ? — Nephew, show 
 the young gentleman Rosamond's pond, while I 
 speak another word to this lady. 
 
 [^Exeunt Belville and Peggy^ l h. Alithea 
 and Harcourt struggle. 
 Ali. My Brother will go distracted. 
 
 Re-enter Moody, r.h. 
 
 Moody. Where? how? — What's become of — 
 gone ! — whither ? 
 
 Ali. In the next walk only, brother. 
 
 Moody. Only — only — where — where ? 
 
 [Exit hastily.) l.h.s.e. 
 
 Har. What's the matter with him ? Why so 
 much concerned ? — But, dearest madam — 
 
 Re-enter Moody, l.h. s.e. 
 
 Moody. Gone, gone — not to be found — quite 
 gone — ten thousand plagues go with 'em !— 
 Which way went they ? 
 
 Ali. But in t'other walk, brother. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 57 
 
 Moody. T'other walk ! t'other devil. Where 
 are they, I say ? 
 
 Jili. You are too abusive, brother. 
 
 Moody. You know where they are, you infa- 
 mous wretch, eternal shame of your famil}' ; 
 which you do not dishonour enough yourself, 
 you think, but you must help her to do it too, 
 thou legion of" — 
 
 AH. Good brother — 
 
 Moody. Damn'd, damn'd sister ! [Exeunt, r.h. 
 
 SCENE UL— Another part of the Park. 
 
 Enter Belville and Peggy, r.h. 
 
 Bel. No disguise could conceal you from my 
 heart : 1 pretended not to know you, that I 
 might deceive the dragon that continually 
 watches over you ; but novv he's asleep, let us 
 fly from misery to happiness. 
 
 Peggy. Indeed, Mr. Belville, as well as I like 
 you, I can't think of going away with you so ; 
 and as much as I hale my guardian, I must take 
 leave of him a little handsomely, or he will kill 
 me, so he will. 
 
 Bel. But, dear miss Peggy, think of your 
 situation ; if we don't make the best use of this 
 opportunity, we never may have another. 
 
 Peggy. Ay but, Mr. Belville, I am as good as 
 married already ; my guardian has contracted 
 me, and there wants nothing but the church 
 ceremony to make us one : I call him husband, 
 aed he calls me wife already : he made me do 
 
58 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 so : and we had been married in church long' 
 ago, if the writings could have been finished. 
 
 Bel. i hat's his deceit, my sweet creature. — 
 He pretends to have married you, for fear of 
 your liking any body else — Vou have a right to 
 choose for yourself; and there is no law in 
 heaven or earth that binds you before marriage 
 to a man you cannot hke. 
 
 Peggy- i'fack, no more I believe it does: sis- 
 ter Aiithea's maid has told aie as much. She's 
 a very sensible girl. 
 
 Bel. You are in the very jaws of perdition, 
 and nothing but running away can avoid it; the 
 law will finish your chains to-morrow, and the 
 church will rivet them the day after. Let us 
 secure our happiness by escape, and love and 
 fortune will do the rest for us. 
 
 Peggy. These are fine sayings, to be sure, 
 Mr. Belvilie ; but how shall we get my fortune 
 out of bud's clutches? We must be a little cun- 
 ning; His worth trying for. We can at any time 
 run away without it. 
 
 Bel. I see by your fears, my dear Peggy, that 
 you live in awe of this brutrd guardian; and if 
 he has you once more in his possession, both 
 you and your fortune are secured to him for 
 ever 
 
 Peggy. Ay, but it shan't though ; 1 thank him 
 for that. 
 
 Bel. If you marry without his consent, he can 
 but seize upon half your fortune. — The other 
 half, and a younger brother's fortune, with a 
 treasure of love, are your own. — Take it, my 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 5^ 
 
 sweetest Peggy, and this moment, cr we shall 
 be divided for ever. 
 
 {Kneels^ and presses her hand.) 
 
 Peggy. I'fackins, but we won't. — Your fine 
 talk has bewitched me. 
 
 Bel. (^Rising. )'*T IS you have bewitch'd me, 
 thou dear, enchanting, sweet simpLcily ! — Let 
 us fly with the wings of love to my house there, 
 and we shall be safe for ever. 
 
 Peggy. And so we will then. — There, squeeze 
 my hand again. — Now run away with me ; and 
 if myguardy follows us, the devil take the hind- 
 most, 1 say. {Goings l.h.) 
 
 FsUter Moody, l.h. hastily^ and meets them. 
 
 Moody. O ! there's my stray'd sheep, and the 
 wolf again in sheep's clothing! — Now I have 
 recovered her, I shall come to my senses again. 
 (^Aside.) Where have you been, you puppy? 
 
 Peggy. Been bud? — We have been hunting 
 all over the Park to find you. 
 
 Bel. From one end to t other, sir. {Confusedly.) 
 
 Moody. But not where I was to he found, you 
 young devil you ! — Why did you start when you 
 saw me ? 
 
 Peggy. I'm always frighten'd when I see you ; 
 and if I did not love you so well, I should run 
 away from you ; so 1 should. {Pouts.) 
 
 Moody. But I'll tiike care you don't. 
 
 Peggy. This gentleman has a favour to beg of 
 you, bud ? {Belville makes signs of Dislike.) 
 
 Moody. I am not in a humour to grant favours 
 to young gentlemen, though you mny. What 
 
60 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 have you been doing with this young lady — 
 gentleman, I would say ? 
 
 Peggy. Fie, bud, you have told all. 
 
 Bel. I have been as civil as 1 could to 'the 
 young stranger; and if youMl permit me, I will 
 take the trouble off your hands, and show the 
 young spark Rosamond^s pond ; for he has not 
 seen it yet — Come pretty youth, will you go 
 with me? {Goes to her.) 
 
 Peggy. As my guardian pleases. 
 
 Moody. No, no, it does not please me. What- 
 ever 1 think he ought to see, I shall show him 
 myself. You may visit Rosamond's pond, if you 
 will ; and the bottom of it, if you will. — And so, 
 sir, your servant. 
 
 [Exit Moody ^ 'with Peggy under his arm, 
 L.H. Belville^ r.h. 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Moody's House. 
 Enter Lucy and Alithea, r.h. 
 
 All. Hold your peace. 
 
 Lucy. Nay, madam, I will ask you the reason 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 61 
 
 why you would banish poor Mr. Harcourt for 
 ever from your sight ? How could you be so 
 hard-hearted. 
 
 AIL 'Twas because I was not hard-hearted. 
 
 Lucy. No, no ; 'twas stark love and madness, 
 I warrant. 
 
 AH. It was so ; I would see him no more, be- 
 cause 1 love him. 
 
 Lucy. Hey-day ! a very pretty reason. 
 
 Ali. You do not understand me. 
 
 Lucy. I wish you may yourself. 
 
 AH. I was engaged to marry, you see, ano- 
 ther man, whom my justice will not suffer me 
 to deceive or injure. 
 
 Lucy. Can there be a greater cheat or wrong 
 done to a man, than to give him your person 
 without your heart ? 1 should make a con- 
 science of it. 
 
 AH. Hold your tongue. 
 
 Lucy. That you know I can't do, madam ; and 
 upon this occasion, f will talk for ever. What, 
 give yourself away to one, that poor I, your 
 maid, would not accept of 
 
 AH. How, Lucy ? 
 
 Lucy. I would not, upon my honour, madam. 
 'Tis never too late to repent. Take a man, 
 and give up your coxcomb, I say. 
 
 Enter a Servant^ l.h. 
 
 Serv. Mr. Sparkish, with company, madam, 
 attends you below. 
 
 AH. I will wait upon 'em. [Exit ServanU l.h.] 
 6 
 
62 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 My heart begins to fail me, but I must go 
 through with it. — Go with me, Lucy. [Exit^ l.h. 
 Lucij. Not I indeed, madam. — If you will leap 
 the precipice, you shall fall by yourself What 
 excellent advice have I thrown away ! — So I'll 
 e'en take it where it will be more welcome. 
 -Miss Peggy is bent upon mischief against 
 
 her guardian, and she can't have a better privy- 
 counsellor than myself. — 1 must be busy one 
 way or another. [Exit, l.h. 
 
 SCENE II. — Another Chamber in Moody's House. 
 
 Enter Moody and Peggy, l.h. 
 
 Moody. 1 saw him kiss your hand before you 
 
 saw me. This pretence of liking my sister 
 
 was all a blind — the young abandon'd hypocrite ! 
 {^Aside.) Tell me, I say — for I know he likes 
 you, and was hurrying you to his house — tell 
 me, I say 
 
 Peggy. Lord, han't 1 told it a hundred times 
 over? 
 
 Moody. I would try if, in the repetition of the 
 ungrateful tale, 1 could lind her altering it in 
 the least circumstance ; for if her story is false, 
 
 she is so too. [Aside,) Come, how was't, 
 
 baggage ? 
 
 Peggy. Lord, what pleasure you take to hear 
 it sure ! 
 
 Moody. No, you take more in telling it, I 
 find : but speak, how was't ? No lies : I saw 
 him kiss you ; he kiss'd you before my face. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 63 
 
 Peggy. Nay, you need not be so angry with 
 hiui neither ; for, to say the truth, he has the 
 sweetest breath I ever knew. 
 
 Moody. The devil ! — You were satisfied with 
 it then, and would do it again ? 
 
 Peggy. Not unless he should force me. 
 
 M(ody. Force you, channeling? 
 
 Peggy. If I had struggled too much, you 
 know, he would have known 1 had been a wo- 
 man ; so I was quiet, for fear of being found out. 
 
 Moody. If you had been in petticoats, you 
 would have knockM him down ! 
 
 Peggy. With what, bud? 1 could not help 
 
 myself; besides, he did it so modestly, and 
 blush'd so, that I almost thought him a girl in 
 men's clothes, and upon his mummery too as 
 well as me ; and if so, there was no harm done, 
 you know. 
 
 Moody. This is worse and worse. So 'tis 
 plain she loves him, yet she has not love enough 
 to make her conceal it from me ; but the sight 
 of him will increase her aversion for me, and 
 love for him ; and that love instruct her how to 
 deceive me, and satisfy him, all idiot as she 
 is. Love 'twas he gave women first their craft, 
 their art of deluding. 1 must strangle that little 
 monster whilst I can deal with him. — (^Aside.) 
 Go, fetch pen, ink, and paper, out of the next 
 room. 
 
 Peggy. Yes, I will, bud. 
 
 Moody. Go then. 
 
 Peggy. I'm going. 
 
 Moody. Why don't you go then ? 
 
64 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. Lord, I'm going. [Exit, r.h. 
 
 Moody. This young fellow loves her, and she 
 
 loves him ; the rest is all hypocrisy. How 
 
 the young modest villain endeavoured to de- 
 ceive me! But I'll crush this mischief in the 
 shell. — Why should women have more inven- 
 tion in love than men? It can only be because 
 they have more desire, more soliciting passions, 
 more of the devil. 
 
 Re-enter Peggy, xmth Pen, Ink and Paper, r.h. 
 
 Come, minx, sit down and write. 
 
 Peggy. Ay, dear, dear bud ; but I can't do't 
 very well. 
 
 Moody. I wish you could not at all. 
 
 Peggy. But what should I write for ? 
 
 Moody. I'll have you write a letter to this 
 young man. 
 
 ^^ggy- O Lord, to the young gentleman a 
 letter.^— 
 
 Moody. Yes, to the young gentleman. 
 
 Peggy. Lord you do but jeer : sure you jest. 
 
 Moody. I am not so merry. Come, sit down, 
 and write as I bid you. 
 
 Peggy. What, do you think I am a fool ? 
 
 M'jody. She's afraid I would not dictate my 
 love to him, therefore she's unwilling. {Aside.) 
 But you had best begin. 
 
 Peggy. Indeed and indeed but 1 won't, so I 
 won't. 
 
 Moody. Why ? 
 
 Peggy Because he's in town. You may send 
 for him here, if you will. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 65 
 
 Moody. Very well, you would have him 
 hrought lo you ? Is it come to this ? I say take 
 the pen and ink, and write, oryouMl provoke me. 
 
 Peggy. Lord, what do you make a fool of me 
 for ' — DonH I know that letters are never writ 
 but trom the country to London, and from Lon- 
 don into the country ? Now he's in town, and 
 I'm in tovvn too ; therefore 1 can't write to him, 
 you know. 
 
 Moody So, I'm glad it's no worse ; she is in- 
 nocent enough yet. [Aside.) Yes, you may, 
 when your husband bids, write letters to people, 
 that are in tovvn. 
 
 Peggy. O, may I so ? Then I am satisfied. 
 
 Moody. Come, begin Sir [Dictates.') 
 
 Peggy Shan't 1 say dear, sir ? You know 
 one says always something more than, bare, sir, 
 up in a corner. 
 
 Moody. Write as I bid you, or I will write 
 something with this pen-knife in your face. 
 
 Peggy. Sir [Writes.) 
 
 Moody. Though I suffered last night your nause- 
 ous^ loathed kisses and embraces Write ! 
 
 Peggy. Nay, why should I say so ? you know 
 I told you he had a sweet breath. 
 
 Moody. Write ! 
 
 Peggy. Let me put out loathed. 
 
 Moody. Write, I say ! 
 
 Peggy. Well then. ( Writes.) 
 
 Moody Let me see what you have writ. 
 [Reads.) Though I suffered last night your kisses 
 
 and embraces Thou impudent creature, where 
 
 is nauseous and loath'^d ? 
 6* 
 
66 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. I can't abide to write such filthy words. 
 
 Moody. Once more write as Pd have ycu, or I 
 ■will spoil your writing- with this ; I will stab out 
 those eyes that cause my mischief. 
 
 [Holds up the Pen-knife.') 
 
 Peggy. O Lord, I will. ( Writes.) 
 
 Moody. So — so -let's see now: —though I 
 
 suffered last night your nauseous loathed kisses and 
 
 embraces go on yet I would not have you 
 
 presume that you shall ever repeat them so 
 
 {Peggy writes.) 
 
 Peggy. I have writ it. 
 
 Moody. O then 1 then conceaPd myself from 
 
 your knowledge^ to avoid your insolencies 
 
 {Peggy writes.) 
 
 Peagy. To avoid 
 
 Moody Your insolencies 
 
 Peggy. Your insolencies. ( Writes.) 
 
 Moody. The same reason, now I am out of your 
 hands — 
 
 Peggy. So {Writes.) 
 
 Moody. Makes me own to you my unfortunate — 
 though innocent frolic, in being in boys clothes. 
 
 leggy. So {^^S§y '^'''it^s.) 
 
 Moody. That you may for evermore 
 
 Peggy. Evermore ? 
 
 Moody. Evermore cease to pursue her who hates 
 and detests you {Peggy writes.) 
 
 Peggy. So — . (Sighs.) 
 
 Moody. What do you sigh for detests you 
 
 - — as much as she loves her husband and her honour — 
 
 Peggy. I vow, husband, he'll ne'er believe I 
 should write such a letter, {Writes.) 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 67 
 
 Moody. What, he'd expect a kinder one from 
 3'ou ■ Come, now yonr name only. 
 
 Peggy. 'Vhat, shan't I ?ay — your most faithful 
 humhle servant till death ^ 
 
 Moody. No tormenting fiend. {Peggy writes.) 
 — Her style, 1 find, wojlri be very soft. (Aside.) 
 Come, wrap it up now, whilst I go fetch w^ax 
 and a candle, and write on the outside. — For Mr. 
 Belville. [Exit, l.h. 
 
 Peggy. (Writes.) For Mr. Belville. — So — I 
 am glad he is gone- — > Hark, 1 hear a noise. 
 
 Moody. (Within.) Well, well, but can't you 
 call again Well, walk in then. 
 
 Peggy. (Goes to l.h.d.) I'fack there's folks 
 with him 
 
 Moody. ( Within.) Very well — if he must see 
 me, I'll come to him. 
 
 Peggy. That's pure ; now I may think a lit- 
 tle Why should I send dear Mr. Belville 
 
 such a letter? — Can one have no shift? Ah, 
 a London woman would have had a hundred 
 presently. — Stay — what if 1 should write a letter, 
 and wrap it up like this, and write upon it too ? 
 
 Ay, but then my guardian would see't 
 
 I don't know what to do But yet y'vads, I'll 
 
 try, so 1 will — for I will not send this letter to 
 g^oor Mr Belville, come what will on't. (Writes., 
 and repeats 'what she writes.) — Dear., dear., dear., 
 sweet Mr. Belville — so — My guardian would have 
 me send you a base, rude letter, hut I won'^t — so — 
 and would have me say I hate you — but I won'^l 
 
 there for Pm sure if you and I were in 
 
 the country at cards together — so — / could not help 
 treading on your toe under the table so pray 
 
68 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 keep at home^for 1 shall be with you as soon as I 
 can — so no more at present from one who am^ dear, 
 dear, poor dear Mr. Belville, your loving friend 
 
 till death do us part, Margaret Thrfft So 
 
 ■ now wrap it up just like t'other — so — now 
 
 write — For Mr. Belville. But, oh! what 
 
 shall 1 do with it ? for here comes my guardian. 
 {Puts it in her Bosom.) 
 
 Re-enter Moody, l.h. with a Candle and Sealing' 
 
 wax. 
 
 Aloodij. I have been detained by a sparkisli 
 coxcomb, who pretended to visit me ; but I fear 
 'twas to my wife. (Aside.) What, have you done ? 
 
 Peggy. Ay, ay, bud, just now. 
 
 Moody. Let's see't ; what d'ye tremble for?— 
 [He opens and reads the first Letter.) 
 
 Peggy. So, I had been finely serv'd if 1 had 
 giv"n him this. {Aside.) 
 
 Moody. Come, where's the wax and seal ? 
 
 Peggy. Lord, what shall I do ? (Aside.) Pray 
 let me see't. Lord, you think 1 cannot seal a 
 letter ; I will do't, so I will. 
 
 {Snatches the Letter from him, changes it for the 
 other, seals it, and delivers it to him. 
 
 Moody. Nay, I believe you will learn that and 
 other things too, which I would not have you. 
 
 Peggy. So, han't I done it curiously ? I think 
 I have — there's my letter going to Mr. Belville, 
 since he'll needs have me send letters to folks. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Moody. 'Tis very well ; but I warrant you 
 would not have it go now ? 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 69 
 
 Peggy. Yes, indeed, but I would, bud, now. 
 
 Moody. Well, you are a good girl tben. 
 Come, let me lock yon up in your chamber till 
 I come back : juk! be sure you come not within 
 three strides of the wndow when 1 am gone, for 
 I have a spy m the street. [Fvis her into the 
 Chamber^ r.h.d.) At least 'tis fit she thinks so ; 
 if we do not cheat women, they'll cheat us. — 
 Now 1 have seen r^d all within, Til deal with 
 the foe without, with false intelligence, 
 
 [Exit, L.u. 
 
 SCENE. UL—Belvilleh Lodgings. 
 Enter Lucy and Belville, r.h. 
 
 Lucy. I run great risks to be sure, to serve 
 the young lady and you, sir ; but 1 know you 
 are a gentleman of honour, and would scorn to 
 betray a friend who means you well, and is 
 above being mercenary. 
 
 Bel. As you are not mercenar}', Mrs. Lucy, I 
 ought to be the more generous ; give me leave 
 to present you with this trifle ; (Gives her a 
 Ring.) not as a reward for your services, but as 
 a small token of friendship. 
 
 Lucy. Though I scorn to be bribed in any 
 cause, yet I am proud to accept it as a mark of 
 your regard, and as such shall keep it for your 
 sake — and now to business. 
 
 Bel. But has the dear creature resolved ? 
 
 Lucy. Has she- why she will run away and 
 marry you, in spite of your teeth, the first ino- 
 
70 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 ment she can break prison : so you, in your 
 turn must take care not to have your qualms ; 
 1 have known several bold gentlemen not able 
 to draw their swords, when a challenge has 
 come too quick upon 'em. 
 
 Bel. I assure you, Mrs. Lucy, that 1 am no 
 bully in love ; and Miss Peggy will meet with 
 her match, come when she will. 
 
 Lucy. Ay, so you all say : but talking does no 
 business. Stay at home till you hear from us. 
 
 Bel. Blessings on thee, Lucy, for the thought. 
 
 Moody. [Without.) l.h.) But I must and will 
 see him, let him have what company he will. 
 
 Lucy. As I hope to be married, Mr. Belville, 
 I hear Mr. Moody's voice. Where shall I hide 
 myself? — If he sees me, we are all undone. 
 
 Bel. This is our cursed luck again. What 
 the devil can he want here ? Get into this 
 closet till he is gone. {Puts Lucy into the closet.) 
 Don't you stir, Lucy. I must put the best face 
 upon the matter. Now for it. 
 
 {Takes a book and reads.) 
 
 Filter Moody, l.h. 
 
 Moody. You will excuse me, sir, for breaking 
 through forms and your servant s entreaties, to 
 have the honour — but you are alone, sir — your 
 fellow told me below, that you were with com- 
 pany. 
 
 Bel. Yes, sir, the best company. {Shows his 
 book.) When 1 converse with my betters, I 
 choose to have 'em alone. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 71 
 
 Moody. And I chose to interrupt your conver- 
 sation ! the business of my errand must plead my 
 excuse. 
 
 Bel. You shall be always welcome to me ; 
 but you seem ruffled, sir. What brings you 
 hither, and so seemingly out of humour ? 
 
 Moody. Your impertinency — 1 beg pardon — 
 your modesty I mean. 
 
 Bel. My impertinency ! 
 
 Moody. Your impertinency ! 
 
 Bel. Sir, from the pecuHarity of your char- 
 acter, and your intimacy with my uncle, 1 shall 
 allow you great privileges ; but you must con- 
 sider youth has its privileges too ; and as I have 
 not the honour of your acquaintance, 1 am not 
 obliged to bear with your ill humours, or your 
 ill manners. 
 
 Moody. They who wrong me, young man, 
 must bear with both ; and if you had not made 
 too free with me, I should have taken no Uber- 
 ties with you. 
 
 Bel. I could have wished, sir, to have found 
 you a little more civil, the first time I have the 
 honour of a visit from you. 
 
 Moody. If that is all you want, young gentle- 
 man, you will find me very civil indeed? There, 
 sir, read that, and let your modesty declare 
 whether, 1 want either kindness or civility. 
 Look you there, sir. {Gives him a Utter.) 
 
 Bel What is it? 
 
 Moody. Only a love-letter, sir ; and from my 
 wife. 
 
 Bel, How, is it from your wife ? — Hum and 
 hum. (Reads.) 
 
72 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Moody. Even from my wife, sir ; am not I 
 wondrous kind and civil to you now too ? But 
 you'll not think her so. {Aside.) 
 
 Bel. Ha ! is this a trick of his or hers ? {Aside.) 
 
 Moody. The gentleman's surpris'd 1 find ! What, 
 you expected a kmder letter ! 
 
 Bel No faith not I : how could I ? 
 
 Moody Yes, yes. I'm sure you did : a man so 
 young and well made as you are, must needs be 
 disappointed, if the women declare not their 
 passion at the first sight or opportunity. 
 
 Bel. But what should this mean ? It seems he 
 knows not what the letter contains. {Aside.) 
 
 Moody. Come, ne'er wonder at it so much. 
 
 Bel. Faith, ! can't help it. 
 
 Moody. Now, I think, 1 have deserv'd your 
 infinite friendship and kindness ; and have 
 show'd myself sufficiently an obliging kind 
 friend and husband ; am I not so, to bring a let- 
 ter from my wife to her gallant ? 
 
 Bel. Ay, indeed, you are the most obliging 
 kind friend and husband in the world ; ha, ha, 
 ha ! Pra}', however, present my humble ser- 
 vice to her, and tell her 1 will obey her letter 
 to a tittle, and fulfil her desires, be what they 
 will, or with what difficulty soever I do't : and 
 you shall be no more jealous of me, I warrant 
 her and you. 
 
 Moody Well then, fare you well, and play 
 with any man's honour but mine ; kiss any man's 
 wife but mine, and welcome — so, Mr. Modesty, 
 your servant. {Goings l.h.) 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 73 
 
 Enter Sparkish, l.h. meeting him. 
 
 Spark. So brother-in-law thnt was to have 
 been, I have follow'd you from home to Bel- 
 ville's : I have strange news for you. 
 
 Moody. What, are you wiser than you were 
 this morning. 
 
 Spark. Faith, 1 don't know but I am, for I 
 have lost your sister, and I shan t eat half an 
 ounce the less at dinner for it: there's philoso- 
 phy for you. 
 
 Moody. Insensibility you mean. I hope you 
 don't mean to use my sister ill, sir? 
 
 Spark. No, sir, she has used me ill ; she's in 
 her tantrums ; I have had a narrow escape, sir. 
 
 Aloody. If thou art endow'd with the smallest 
 portion of understanding, explain this riddle. 
 
 Bel. Ay, ay, pr'ythee, Sparkish, condescend 
 to be intelligible. 
 
 Spark. Why you must know— we had settled 
 to be married — it is the same thing to me 
 whether I am married or not — 1 have no par- 
 ticular fancy one way or another, and so I told 
 your sister ; off or on, 'tis the same thing to 
 me ; but the thing was fix'd, you know — You 
 and my aunt brought it about ; • had no hand in 
 it. And, to show you that I was as willing to 
 marry your sister as any other woman, I suffer- 
 ed the law to tie me up to hard terms ; and the 
 church would have finish'd me still to harder — ■ 
 but she was taken with her tantrums I 
 
 Moody. Damn your tantrums, come to the 
 point. 
 
 7 
 
74 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Spark. Your sister took an aversion to the 
 parson, Frank Harcourt's brother — abused me 
 like a pick-pocket, and swore 'twas Harcourt 
 himself. 
 
 Moody. And so it was, for 1 saw him. 
 
 Spark. Why, you are as mad as your sister : 
 I tell you it was Ned, Frank's twin brother. 
 
 Moody. What, Frank told you so? 
 
 Spark. Ay, and Ned too ; they were both in 
 a story. 
 
 Moody What an incorrigible fellow ! — Come, 
 come, ! must be gone. 
 
 Spark. Nay, nay, you shall hear my story out 
 
 She walk'd up within pistol-shot of the 
 
 church, then twirl'd round upon her heel, calFd 
 me every name she could think of; and when 
 she had exhausted her imagination, and tired her 
 tongue (no easy matter let me tell you), she 
 call'd her chair, sent her footman to buy a mon- 
 key before my face, then bid me good morrow 
 with a sneer, and left us with our mouths open 
 in the middle of a hundred people, who were 
 all laughing at us ! If these are not tantrums, I 
 don't know what are. 
 
 Moody. Ha, ha, ha ! I thank thee, Sparkish, 
 from my soul ; 'tis a most exquisite story : I 
 have not had such a laugh for this half year. 
 Thou art a most ridiculous puppy, and 1 am 
 infinitely obliged to thee ; ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 • [Exit, L.H. 
 
 Spark. Did you ever hear the like, Belville? 
 Bel. O yes ; how is it possible to hear such a 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 75 
 
 foolish story, and see thy foolish face, and not 
 laugh at 'em? Ha, ha, ha I 
 
 [Lucy in the closet laughs^ r.h ) 
 
 Spark. Hey-day ! what's that ? What have 
 you raised a devil in the closet to make up a 
 laughing chorus at me ? I must take a peep — 
 [Going to the Closet.) 
 
 Bel Indeed but you must not. 
 
 Spark. It was a vvom n"'s voice. 
 
 Bel. So much the better for me. 
 
 Spark. Pr'ylhee introduce me. 
 
 Bel. i hough you take a pleasure in expos- 
 ing your ladies, I choose to conceal mine ; so, 
 my dear Sparkish^ lest the lady should be sick 
 by too long a confinement, and laughmg hearti- 
 ly at you, I must entreat you to withdraw. 
 Prythee excuse me, I must laugh — ha, ha, ha, 
 ha ! 
 
 Soark. Do you know that 1 begin to be angry, 
 Belville? 
 
 Bel. I can''t help that — ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Spark. My character s at stake ; 1 shall be 
 thought a damn''d silly fellow ; I will call Alithea 
 to an account directly. [Exit^ l.h. 
 
 Bel. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Lucy. [i eeping out.) Ha, ha, ha, ha ! O 
 dear sir, let me have my la igh out, or I shall 
 burst. What an adventure. 
 
 [Comes 07/ f^ and laughs.) 
 
 Bel. My sweet Peggy has sent me the kmdest 
 letter — and by the dragon himself; there's a 
 spirit for you ! 
 
 Lucy. There's simplicity for you ! Show me 
 a town-bred girl with half the g^enius — Send you 
 
76 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 a love-letter and by a jealous guardian too ! ha, 
 ha, ha ! 'lis too much — too much — Ha, ha, ha! 
 — Well, A't. Belville ! the world goes as it 
 should do — my mistress will exchange her fool 
 for a wit ; Miss Peggy her bruie for a pretty 
 young fellow : I shall dance at two weddings ; 
 be well rewarded by both parties; get a hus- 
 band myself: and be as happy as the best of 
 you : and so your humble servant. [Exit^ l.h. 
 Bel. Success attend you, Lucy. [Exit^ r.h. 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Moody's House, 
 
 Peggy, discovered a/o?ie, leaning on her Elbow on a 
 Table,, with Pen., Ink, and Paper. 
 
 Peggy. Well, 'tis e'en so : I have got the 
 London disease they call love ; i am sick of my 
 guardian, and dying for Mr. Belville ! 1 have 
 heard this distemper call'd a fever, but methinks 
 it IS like an ague ; for when I think of my 
 guardian, I tremble and am so cold ; but when 
 I think of my gallant, dear Mr Belville, my hot 
 fit comes, and 1 am all in a fever indeed. Ah I 
 poor Mr. Belville! Well, I will not stay here ; 
 therefore Til make an end of my letter to him, 
 which shall be a finer letter than my last, be- 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 77 
 
 cause I have studied it like any thing. Oh ! 
 sick, sick I 
 
 Enter Moody, m.d. who seeing her writings steals 
 softly behind her^ and looking over her Shoulder. 
 
 Moody. What, ('^tiatches the Paper from her.) 
 writing more letters ? 
 
 Peggy. O Lord, bud ! why d'ye fright me so ? 
 
 {^She offers to run out ; he stops her., and reads.) 
 
 Moody How's this ! nay, you shnll not stir, 
 madam. [Reads.) Dear., dear., Mr. Belville — 
 Very well, I have taught 30U to write letters to 
 good purpose — but let's see''t — First., I am to 
 heg your pardon for my boldness in-mriting to you^ 
 which I'd have you to knozv I voould not have done 
 had you not said first you loved me so extremely ; 
 which if you do., you zvill neter suffer me to be 
 another man''s who I loath^ nauseate and detest ; 
 — Now you can write these tilthy words. But 
 what follows? — therefore I hope you will speedily 
 Jind some way to free me from this unfortunate 
 match.,which was never I assure you of my choice ; 
 hut Vm afraid 'tis already too far gone ; however ^ 
 if you love me as I do you., you will try what you 
 can do ; you must help me away befre to-morrow^ 
 or else., alas ! I shall be for ever out of your 
 reach., for I can defer no longer our — our — what 
 is to follow our ? — Speak, what ? — Our journey 
 into the country, I suppose. — Oh, woman ! 
 damn'd woman ! and love damn'd love ! their 
 old tempter; for this is one of his miracles; in 
 a moment he can make those blind that could 
 
78 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 see, and those see tiiat were blind ; those dumb 
 that could speak, and those prattle who were 
 dumb before. — But make an end of your letter, 
 and then I'll make an end of you thus, and all 
 my plag-ties together. (Draws hs Sword.) 
 
 Peggy- O Lord ! O Lord ! you are such a pas- 
 sionate man, bud ! 
 
 M9ody. Come take the pen, and make an end 
 of the letter, just as you intended; if you are 
 false in a tittle I shall soon perceive it, and 
 punish you with this as v ou deserve. {Lays his 
 Hand on his Sword.) — write wha! was to ibl- 
 low — let's see — You must make haste and help 
 me away before to-morrow.^ or else I shall be for- 
 ever out of your reach ^ for I can defer no longer 
 our — what follows our ? — 
 
 {Peggy takes the Pen., and writes.) 
 
 Peggy. Must all out then, bud ? — Look you 
 there then. 
 
 Moody. Let's see — for I can defer no longer our 
 
 wedding Your slighted Alithea. — What's the 
 
 meaning of this ? My sister's name to't? Speak; 
 unriddle. 
 
 Peggy. Yes, indeed, bud. 
 
 Moody. But why her name to't ? Speak, — 
 speak, I say. 
 
 Peggy. Ay, but you'll tell her again; if you 
 would not tell her again — 
 
 Moody. I will not ; 1 am stunn'd ; my head 
 turns round. Speak. 
 
 Peggy. Won't you tell her, indeed, and in- 
 deed. 
 
 Moody. No : speak, I say. 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 79 
 
 Peggy. She'll be angry with me : but I would 
 rather she should be angry with me than you, 
 bud And to tell the truth, 'twas she made me 
 write the letter, and taught me what I should 
 write. 
 
 Moody Ha ! — I thought the style was some- 
 what better than her own. {Aside.) Could she 
 come to you to teach you, since I lock'd you up 
 alone ? 
 
 Peggy. Oh, through the key-hole, bud. 
 
 Moody. But why should she make you write 
 a letter for her to him, since she can write her- 
 self? 
 
 Peggy. Why she said because — 
 
 Moody. Because what- — because — 
 
 Peggy. Why because, bud — 
 
 Moody. Because what, I say ? 
 
 Pegi(y, Because, lest Mr. Belville, as he was 
 so young, should be inconstant, and refuse her ; 
 or be vain afterwards, and show the letter, she 
 might disown it, the hand not bemg hers 
 
 Moody. Belville again ! — Am I to be deceiv'd 
 again with that young hypocrite ? 
 
 Peggy. You have deceiv'd yourself, bud ; you 
 have indeed. I have kept the secret for my 
 sister's sake, as long as I could — but you must 
 know it — and shall know it too. (^Cries.) 
 
 Moody. Dry your tears. 
 
 Peggy. You always thought he was hankering 
 after me — Good law ! he's dying for Alithea, and 
 Alithea for him ; they have had private meet- 
 ings; and he was making love to her before 
 yesterday, from the tavern window, when you 
 
?0 THE COUNTRY GIRL 
 
 thought it was me. I would have discovered 
 all, but she made me swear to deceive you; and 
 so I have finely ; have not I, bud ? 
 
 Moody. Wliy did you write that foolish letter 
 to him then, and make me more foolish to car- 
 ry it? 
 
 Peggy. To carry on the joke, bud — to oblige 
 them ? 
 
 Moody. And will nothing serve her but that 
 great baby ? — He's too young for her (o marry. 
 
 Peggy Why do you mdrry me then ? — 'Tis 
 the same th.ng, bud. 
 
 Moody. No, no, 'tis quite different. How in- 
 nocent she is ! {Aside.) — But hark you, madam, 
 your sister went out this morning, and 1 have 
 not seen her within since. 
 
 Peggy. Alack-a-day, she has been crying all 
 day above, it seems, in a corner. 
 
 Moody. Where is she ? let me speak with her. 
 
 Peggy. O Lord ! then she'll discover all. 
 [Aside.) Pray hold, bud : what, d'ye mean to 
 discover me? She'll know I have told you then. 
 Pray, bud, let me talk with her first. 
 
 Moody. I must speak witl; her to know whe- 
 ther Belville ever made her any promise, and 
 whether she will be married to Sparkish or no. 
 
 Peggy. Pray, dear bud, ilon't till I have spoken 
 with her, and told her that 1 have told you all; 
 for she'll kill me else. 
 
 Moody. Go then, and bid her come to me. 
 
 P^ggy- Yes, yes, bud. 
 
 Moody. Let me see — 
 
 Peggy. I have just got time to know of Lucy, 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 81 
 
 who first set me to work, what lie I shall tell 
 next ; for I am e'en at my wits end. 
 
 [Aside^ and Exit^ r.h.d. 
 Moody, Well, I resolve it, Belville shall have 
 her: I'd rather give him my sister than lend 
 him my wife ; and such an alliance will prevent 
 his pretensions to my wife, sure ; I'll make him 
 of kin to her, and then he won't care for her. 
 
 Re-enter Peggy, r.h.d. 
 
 Peggy. O Lord, bud, I told you what anger 
 you would make me with my sister. 
 
 Moody. Wont she come ? 
 
 Peggy. No, she won't, she's ashamed to look 
 you in the face ; she'll go directly to Mr. Bel- 
 ville, she says. Pray let her have her way, 
 hud — she won't be pacified if you don't — and 
 will never forgive me. For my part, bud, I be- 
 lieve, but don't tell any body, they have broken 
 a piece of silver between 'em — or have con- 
 tracted one another, as we have done, you 
 know, which is the next thing to being married. 
 
 Moody. Pooh ! you fool — she ashamed of talk- 
 ing with me about Belville, because I made the 
 match for her with Sparkish ! But Sparkish is a 
 fool, and I have no objection to Belville's family 
 or fortune — tell her so. 
 
 Peggy. I will, bud. {Goings r.h.) 
 
 Moody. Stay, stay, Peggy, let her have her 
 own way ; she shall go to Belville herself, and 
 I'll follow her — that will be best — let her have 
 her whim. 
 
82 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Peggy. You're in the rig-ht, bud ; for they 
 have certainly had a quarrel, by her crying and 
 hanging- her head so : I'll be hang'd if her eyes 
 anU swell'd out of her head, she's in such a 
 piteous taking. 
 
 Moody. Belville shan't use her ill, I'll take 
 care of that; if he has made her a promise, he 
 shall keep to it: but she had better go tirst — I 
 will follow her at a distance, that she may have 
 no interruption; and I will wait in the Park be- 
 fore I see them, that they may come to a recon- 
 ciliation before I come upon 'em. 
 
 Peggy. Law, bud, how wise you are ! — I wish 
 I had half your wisdom ; you see every thing at 
 once. Stand a one side then — there, a little 
 further that way. 
 
 Moody. And so I will : she shan't see me till I 
 break in upon her at Belville's. 
 
 {Sits down in the middle of the Stage.) 
 
 Peggy. Now for it. [Exit^R.H.n. 
 
 Moody. My case is something better ; for sup- 
 pose the worst — should Belville use her ill — I 
 had rather tight him for not marrying my sister, 
 than for debauching my wif', tor 1 will make 
 her m'ne absoiutojy to-morrow; and of the two, 
 1 had rither find my sster too forward than my 
 wife: I expected no other from her free educa- 
 tion, as she calls it, and her passion for the town. 
 Well, wife and sister are names which make us 
 expect love and duty, pleasure and comfort ; but 
 we find 'em plagues and torments, and are equal- 
 ly, though differently, troublesome to their keep- 
 er. But here she comes. {Steps aside, r.h.) 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 83 
 
 Re-enter Peggy^ r.h.d. dressed like Alithea ; and as 
 
 she passes over the Stagc^ seems to sigh^ sob^ 
 
 and wipe her eyes. 
 
 Peggy. Heigho ! [Exit^ l.h. 
 
 Moody. (^Comesfurzcard.) There the poor devil 
 goes, sighing and sobbing, a woeful example of 
 the fatal consequences of a town education ; but 
 I am bound in duty, as well as inclination, to do 
 my utmost to save her — but first I'll secure my 
 own property. — (Opens r.h.d. and calls.) — Peg- 
 gy I Peggy! my dear! — I will return as soon as 
 possible — do you hear me? Why don't you an- 
 swer? You may read in the book I bought you 
 till I come back. — As the Jew says in the play, 
 " Fast bind, fast find." {Locks the Door.) This is 
 the best, and only security for female affections. 
 
 [Exit, L.H. 
 
 SCENE 11— The Park, before BehilWs House. 
 
 Enter Sfarkish, fuddled, r.h. 
 
 Spark. If I can but meet with her, or anybody 
 that belongs to her, they will find me a match 
 for 'em. When a man has wit, and a great deal 
 of it, Champagne gives it a double edge, and 
 nothing can withstand it — 'tis a lighted match to 
 gunpowder. — I was right to" consult my friends, 
 and they all agree with Moody, that I make a 
 damn'd ridiculous figure, as matters stand at 
 present. I'll consult Belville — this is his house 
 
84 THE COUNTRY GIBL. 
 
 — he's my friend too — and no fool — It shall be so. 
 Damn it, 1 must not be ridiculous. [Going to the 
 Door^ sees Peggy coming.) Hold! hold! if the 
 Champagne does not hurt my eye-sight, while it 
 sharpens my wit, the enemy is marching up this 
 way. — Come on, xMadam AUthea ; now for a 
 smart fire; and then let's see who will be ri- 
 diculous. 
 
 Enter Peggy, r.h. 
 
 Peggy. Dear me, I begin to tremble ; there is 
 Mr. Sparkish, and I can't get to Mr. Belville's 
 house without passing by him. He sees me, and 
 will discover me ; he seems in liquor too.— 
 Bless me ! 
 
 Spark. O ho ! she stands at bay a little ; she 
 don't much relish the engagement. The first 
 blow is half the battle. Til be a Httle figurative 
 with her. (^Aside — Approaches her.) I find, ma- 
 dam, you Hke a solo better than a duet. You 
 need not have been walking alone this evening, 
 if you had been wiser yesterday. — What, nothing 
 to say for yourself? — Repentance, 1 suppose, 
 makes you as awkward and as foolish as the 
 poor country girl your brother has lock'd up in 
 Pall-mall. 
 
 Peggy. I'm frighten'd out of my wits. 
 
 {Tries to pass him.) 
 
 Spark. Not a step further shall you go till 
 you give me an account of your behaviour, and 
 make me a reparation for being ridiculous. — 
 What, dumb still ! Then if you won't by fair 
 
TH;E country girl. 85 
 
 means, I must squeeze you to ti confession. {A^ 
 he goes to seize her^ she slips by him ; hut he catches 
 hold of her before she reaches BelvilWs Door.") 
 Not quite so fast, if you please. — Come, come, 
 let me see your modest face, and hear your soft 
 tongue, or 1 shall be tempted to use you ill. 
 
 Enter Moody, r.h. 
 
 Moody. Hands off, you ruffian ! How dare ydu 
 use a lady, and my sister, in this manner? 
 
 {Takes Sparkishfrom her.) 
 
 Spark. She's my property, sir ; transferred to 
 me by you ; and though I would give her up to 
 any body for a dirty sword-knot, yet I won't be 
 bullied out of my right, though it is not worth 
 that. — {Snaps his fnger's.) 
 
 Moody. There's a fellow to be a husband ! — 
 You are justified in despising him and flying 
 from him. I'll defend you with my purse and 
 my sword. — Knock at that door, and let me 
 speak to Belvilie. {P^ggy knocks at d.f.l h. ; 
 mhen the footman opens it she runs in^ l.h.) — Is 
 your master at home, friend ? 
 
 Foot. Yes, sir. 
 
 Moody. Tell him then that I have rescued 
 that lady from this gentleman, and by her de- 
 sire, and m^' consent, she flies to him for pro- 
 tection ; if he can get a parson, let him marry 
 her this minute ; tell him so, and shut the door. 
 [Exit Footm,an., d.f l.h.] And now, sir, if your 
 wine has given you courage, you had better 
 8 
 
86 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 show it upon this occasion; for you are still 
 damn'cl rifliculous. 
 
 Spark. Did you ever hear the Uke ? — Lookye, 
 Mr. Moody, we are in the Park, and to draw a 
 sword is an offence to the court ; so you may 
 vapour as long as you please. A woman of so 
 little taste is not worth fighting for ; she's not 
 worth my sword ! But if you'll fight me to- 
 morrow morning for diversion, 1 am your man. 
 
 Moody. Relinquish your title in the lady to 
 Belville peaceably, and you may sleep in a 
 "whole skin. 
 
 Spark. Belville ! he would not have your sis- 
 ter with the fortune of a nabob ; no, no, his 
 mouth waters at your country tit-bit at home ; 
 much good may it do him. 
 
 Moody. And you think so, puppy — ha, ha, ha 1 
 
 Spark. Yes, I do, mastiff — ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Moody. Then thy folly is complete — ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Spark Thine will be so, when thou hast mar- 
 ried thy country innocent — ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 {They laugh at each other.) 
 
 Re-enter Harcourt, r.h. 
 
 Spark. What, my boy Harcourt ! 
 
 Moody. What brings you here, sir ? 
 
 Har. I followed you to Belville's to present a 
 near relation of yours, and a nearer one of mine, 
 to you. [Exit^ R.H. 
 
 Spark. What's the matter now ? 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. 87 
 
 Re-enter Harcourt, xoith Alitiiea, r.h. 
 
 liar. Give me leave, gentlemen, without of- 
 fence to either, to present Mrs. Harconrt to jou ! 
 
 Spark, AHthea ! your wife ! — Mr. Mooch', are 
 you in the clouds too ? 
 
 Moody. If I am not in a dream, I am the most 
 miserable walking dog that ever run mad with 
 his misfortunes and astonishment ! 
 
 Har. Why so. Jack ? Can you object to my 
 happiness, when this gentleman was unworthy 
 of it ? {Moody walks about in a rage.) 
 
 Spark. This is very fine, very fine indeed ! — 
 Where's your story about Belville now, 'squire 
 Moody? Pr'ythee don't chafe, and stare, and 
 stride, and beat thy head, like a mad tragedy 
 poet — but out with thy tropes and figures. 
 
 Moody. Zounds ! 1 can't bear it. 
 
 [Goes hastily to BelvilWs Door^ and knocks 
 hard.) 
 
 Mi. Dear brother, what's the matter? 
 
 Moody. The devil's the matter I the devil and 
 women together. (Knocks again.) I'll break 
 the door down, if they won't answer. 
 
 {Knocks again.) 
 
 A Footman appears in the Balcony^ in Jlai^ l.h. 
 
 Foot. What would your honour please to have ? 
 
 Moody Your master, rascal. 
 
 Foot. He is obeying your commands, sir ; and 
 the moment he has finished, he will do himself 
 the pleasure to wait on vou. 
 
08 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 Moody. You sneering villain you, if your mas- 
 ter does not produce that she-devil, who is now 
 with him, and who with a face of innocence, has 
 cheated and undone me, I'il set tire to his house. 
 [Exit Footman from the Balcony. 
 
 Spark. 'Gad so ! now I begin to smoke the 
 business. Well said, simplicity, rural simplicity ! 
 'Egad ! if thou hast trick'd Cerberus, here, I 
 shall be so ravish'd that 1 will give this couple 
 a wedding dinner. Pray, Mr. Moody, who's 
 damn'd ridiculous now ? 
 
 Moody. {Going to Sparkish.) Look ye, sir — 
 don't grin, for if you dare to show your teeth at 
 my misfortunes, I'll dash 'em down your impu- 
 dent throat, you jackanapes. 
 
 Spark. {Quite calm.) Very fine, faith — but I 
 have no weapons to butt with a mad bull, so you 
 may toss and roar by yourself, if you please. 
 
 Enter Belville, in the Balcony. 
 
 Bel. What does my good friend want with me? 
 Moody. Are you a villain, or are you not ? 
 Bel. I have obey'd your commands, sir. 
 Moody. What have you done with the girl, 
 sir? 
 
 Bel. Made her my wife, as you desired. 
 Spark Very true, I am your witness — 
 Moody. She's my wife and I demand her. 
 
 Enter Peggy in the Balcony. 
 
 Peggy. No, but I an't though, bud. — What's 
 the matter, dear, are you angry with me ? 
 
THE COUNTRY GIRL. SO 
 
 Moody. How dare you look me in the face, 
 cockatrice ? 
 
 Peggy. How dare you look me in the face, 
 bud? Have you not given me to another, when 
 you ought to have married me yourself? Jiave 
 you not pretended to be married to me, when 
 you knew in your conscience you was not ? And 
 have you not been shilly-shally for a long time ? 
 So that if I had not m.irried dear Mr. Beiville, I 
 should not have married at all — so I should not. 
 (^Beiville and Peggy retire from the Balcony.) 
 
 Spwk. Extremely pleasant, faith ; ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Moody. I am stupitied with shame, rage, and 
 astonishment — my fate has o'ercome me — I can 
 struggle no more with it. {Sighs.) What is 
 left me ? — I cannot bear to look, or be looked 
 upon — I will hurry down to my old house, take 
 a twelvemonths provisions into it — cut down my 
 drawhridge, run wild about my garden, which 
 shall grow as wild as myself— then will I curse 
 the world, and every individual in it — and when 
 my rage and spirits fail me, 1 will be found dead 
 among the nettles and thistles, a woeful example 
 of the baseness and treachery of one sex, and of 
 the falsehood, lying, perjury, deceit, impudence, 
 and damnation of the other. [Exit., l.h. 
 
 Spark. Very droll, and extravagantly comic, I 
 must confess ; ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Enter Belville and Peggy, /rom d.f.l.h. 
 
 Lookye, Belville, I wish you joy with all my 
 heart — you have got the prize, and perhaps 
 
90 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 
 
 have caught a tartar — that's no business of mine 
 — If j/oii want evidence for Mr. Moody's giving 
 his consent to your marriage, I shall be ready. 
 I bear no ill will to that pair: I wish you hap- 
 py; {ToAlithea and Har court.) — though I'm sure 
 they'll be miserable — and so your humble ser- 
 vant. [Exit^ L.ii. 
 
 Peggy. I hope you forgive me, Alithea, for 
 playing your brother this trick ; indeed I should 
 hnve only made him and myself miserable, had 
 Tve married together. 
 
 All. Then 'tis much better as it is. But I am 
 yet in the dark how this matter has been brought 
 about; how your innocence, my dear, has out- 
 witted his worldly wisdom. 
 
 Peggy- I am sure I'll do any thing to please 
 my bud, but marry him. 
 
 But you, good gentry, what say you to this? 
 You are to judge me — have I done amiss.' 
 I've reasons wiil convince you all, and strong ones ; 
 Except old folks, who hanker after young ones ; 
 Bud was so passionate, and grown so thrifty ! 
 ■'Twas a sad life — and then, he was near fifty ! 
 I'm but nineteen — my husband too is young. 
 So soft, so gentle, such a winning tongue ! 
 Have I, pray ladies, speak, done verj"^ wrong ? 
 As for poor bud, 'twas honest to deceive him ! 
 More virtuous sure to cheat him than to grieve hirn. 
 Great folks, I know, will call me simple slut ; 
 "Marry for love," they cry, "the country put ;" 
 Marriage with them's a fashion — soon grows cool : 
 But I'm for always loving like a fool. 
 
THE COUx>rTllY GIUL. 91 
 
 Witli half iny fortune I would rather part, 
 Than be all finery with an aching heart. 
 For these strange awkward notions don't abuse tne ; 
 And, as I know no better, pray excuse nie. 
 
 Disposition of the Characters ti)hen the Curtain falls. 
 
 R.H.