Speed the Plough | Page 3

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