the news?
Dame. Any thing about Mrs. Grundy?
Ash. Dame, be quiet, woolye now?
Everg. No, no--The news is, that my master, Sir Philip Blandford, after
having been abroad for twenty years, returns this day to the castle; and
that the reason of his coming is, to marry his only daughter to the son
of Sir Abel Handy, I think they call him.
Dame. As sure as two-pence, that is Nelly's husband.
Everg. Indeed!--Well, Sir Abel and his son will be here immediately;
and, Farmer, you must attend them.
Ash. Likely, likely.
Everg. And, mistress, come and lend us a hand at the castle, will
you?--Ah, it is twenty long years since I have seen Sir Philip--Poor
gentleman! bad, bad health--worn almost to the grave, I am
told.---What a lad do I remember him--till that dreadful--[Checking
himself.] But where is Henry? I must see him--must caution him--[A
gun is discharged at a distance.] That's his gun, I suppose--he is not far
then--Poor Henry!
Dame. Poor Henry! I like that indeed! What though he be nobody
knows who, there is not a girl in the parish that is not ready to pull caps
for him--The Miss Grundys, genteel as they think themselves, would be
glad to snap at him--If he were our own, we could not love him better.
Everg. And he deserves to be loved--Why, he's as handsome as a peach
tree in blossom; and his mind is as free from weeds as my favourite
carnation bed. But, Thomas, run to the castle, and receive Sir Abel and
his son.
Ash. I wool, I wool--Zo, good day. [Bowing.] Let every man make his
bow, and behave pratty--that's what I say.--Missus, do'ye show un Sue's
letter, woolye? Do ye letten see how pratty she do write feyther. [Exit.
Dame. Now Tummas is gone, I'll tell you such a story about Mrs.
Grundy--But come, step in, you must needs be weary; and I am sure a
mug of harvest beer, sweetened with a hearty welcome, will refresh you.
[Exeunt into the house.
SCENE II.
Outside and gate of the Castle--Servants cross the stage, laden with
different packages.
Enter ASHFIELD.
Ash. Drabbit it, the wold castle 'ul be hardly big enow to hold all thic
lumber.
Sir Abel Handy. [Without.] Gently there! mind how you go, Robin. [A
crash.
Ash. Who do come here? A do zeem a comical zoart ov a man--Oh,
Abel Handy, I suppoze.
Enter SIR ABEL HANDY.--SERVANT following.
Sir Abel. Zounds and fury! you have killed the whole county, you dog!
for you have broke the patent medicine chest, that was to keep them all
alive!--Richard, gently!--take care of the grand Archimedian
corkscrews!--Bless my soul! so much to think of! Such wonderful
inventions in conception, in concoction, and in completion!
Enter PETER.
Well, Peter, is the carriage much broke?
Peter. Smashed all to pieces. I thought as how, sir, that your infallible
axletree would give way.
Sir Abel. Confound it, it has compelled me to walk so far in the wet,
that I declare my water-proof shoes are completely soaked through.
[Exit PETER.] Now to take a view with my new invented glass! [Pulls
out his glass.
Ash. [Loud and bluntly.] Zarvent, zur! Zarvent!
Sir Abel. [Starting.] What's that? Oh, good day.--Devil take the fellow?
[Aside.
Ash. Thankye, zur; zame to you with all my heart and zoul.
Sir Abel. Pray, friend, could you contrive gently to inform me, where I
can find one Farmer Ashfield.
Ash. Ha, ha, ha! [Laughing loudly.] Excuse my tittering a bit--but your
axing mysel vor I be so domm'd zilly [Bowing and laughing.]--Ah! you
stare at I beceas I be bashful and daunted.
Sir Abel. You are very bashful, to be sure. I declare I'm quite weary.
Ash. If you'll walk into the castle, you may zit down, I dare zay.
Sir Abel. May I indeed? you are a fellow of extraordinary civility.
Ash. There's no denying it, zur.
Sir Abel. No, I'll sit here.
Ash. What! on the ground! Why you'll wring your ould withers--
Sir Abel. On the ground--no, I always carry my seat with me [Spreads a
small camp chair.]--Here I'll sit and examine the surveyor's account of
the castle.
Ash. Dickens and daizeys! what a gentleman you wou'd be to shew at a
vair!
Sir Abel. Silence fellow, and attend--"An account of the castle and
domain of Sir Philip Blandford, intended to be settled as a marriage
portion on his daughter, and the son of Sir Abel Handy,--by Frank
Flourish, surveyor.--Imprimis--The premises command an exquisite
view of the Isle of Wight."--Charming! delightful! I don't see it though
[Rising.]--I'll try with my new glass--my own invention--[He looks
through the glass.] Yes, there I caught it--Ah! now I see it plainly--Eh!
no--I don't see it, do you?
Ash. Noa, zur, I doant--but little zweepy do
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