Speed the Plough | Page 9

much the worse; for if I were ill, she wouldn't come near me.
Handy, jun. Then you are rich--
Sir Abel. So much the worse; for had I been poor, she would not have married me. But I, say, Bob, if you gain the prize, I'll have a patent for my plough.
Lady H. [Without.] Sir Abel! I say--
Handy, jun. Father, could not you get a patent for stopping that sort of noise?
Sir Abel. If I could, what a sale it would have!--No, Bob, a patent has been obtained for the only thing that will silence her--
Handy, jun. Aye--What's that?
Sir Abel. [In a whisper.] A coffin! hush!--I'm coming, my dear.
Handy, jun. Ha, ha, ha! [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Parlour in ASHFIELD'S House.
Enter ASHFIELD and Wife.
Ash. I tell ye, I zee'd un gi' Susan a letter, an I dan't like it a bit.
Dame. Nor I: if shame should come to the poor child--I say, Tummas, what would Mrs. Grundy say then?
Ash. Dom Mrs. Grundy; what would my poor wold heart zay? but I be bound it be all innocence.
Enter HENRY.
Dame. Ah, Henry! we have not seen thee at home all day.
Ash. And I do zomehow fanzie things dan't go zo clever when thee'rt away from farm.
Henry. My mind has been greatly agitated.
Ash. Well, won't thee go and zee the ploughing match?
Henry. Tell me, will not those who obtain prizes be introduced to the Castle?
Ash. Ees, and feasted in the great hall.
Henry. My good friend, I wish to become a candidate.
Dame. You, Henry!
Henry. It is time I exerted the faculties Heaven has bestowed on me; and though my heavy fate crushes the proud hopes this heart conceives, still let me prove myself worthy of the place Providence has assigned me.--[Aside.] Should I succeed, it will bring me to the presence of that man, who (I know not why) seems the dictator of my fate.--[To them.] Will you furnish me with the means?
Ash. Will I!--Thou shalt ha' the best plough in the parish--I wish it were all gould for thy zake--and better cattle there can't be noowhere.
Henry. Thanks, my good friend--my benefactor--I have little time for preparation--So receive my gratitude, and farewell. [Exit.
Dame. A blessing go with thee!
Ash. I zay, Henry, take Jolly, and Smiler, and Captain, but dan't ye take thic lazy beast Genius--I'll be shot if having vive load an acre on my wheat land could please me more.
Dame. Tummas, here comes Susan reading the letter.
Ash. How pale she do look! dan't she?
Dame. Ah! poor thing!--If----
Ash. Hauld thy tongue, woolye? [They retire.
Enter SUSAN, reading the letter.
Susan. Is it possible! Can the man to whom I've given my heart write thus!--"I am compelled to marry Miss Blandford; but my love for my Susan is unalterable--I hope she will not, for an act of necessity, cease to think with tenderness on her faithful Robert."----Oh man! ungrateful man! it is from our bosoms alone you derive your power; how cruel then to use it, in fixing in those bosoms endless sorrow and despair!----"Still think with tenderness"--Base, dishonourable insinuation--He might have allowed me to esteem him. [Locks up the letter in a box on the table, and exit weeping.]
[ASHFIELD and DAME come forward.]
Ash. Poor thing!--What can be the matter--She locked up the letter in thic box, and then burst into tears. [Looks at the box.
Dame. Yes, Tummas; she locked it in that box sure enough. [Shakes a bunch of keys that hangs at her side.
Ash. What be doing, Dame? what be doing?
Dame. [With affected indifference.] Nothing; I was only touching these keys. [They look at the box and keys significantly.
Ash. A good tightish bunch!
Dame. Yes; they are of all sizes. [They look as before.
Ash. Indeed!--Well--Eh!--Dame, why dan't ye speak? thou canst chatter fast enow zometimes.
Dame. Nay, Tummas--I dare say--if--you know best--but I think I could find----
Ash. Well, Eh!--you can just try you knaw [Greatly agitated.] You can try, just vor the vun on't: but mind, dan't ye make a noise. [She opens it.] Why, thee hasn't opened it?
Dame. Nay, Tummas! you told me!
Ash. Did I?
Dame. There's the letter!
Ash. Well, why do ye gi't to I?--I dan't want it, I'm sure. [Taking it--he turns it over--she eyes it eagerly--he is about to open it.]--She's coming! she's coming! [He conceals the letter, they tremble violently.] No, she's gone into t'other room. [They hang their heads dejectedly, then look at each other.] What mun that feyther an mother be doing, that do blush and tremble at their own dater's coming. [Weeps.] Dang it, has she desarv'd it of us--Did she ever deceive us?--Were she not always the most open hearted, dutifullest, kindest--and thee to goa like a dom'd spy, and open her box, poor thing!
Dame. Nay, Tummas----
Ash. You did--I zaw you do it myzel!--you look like a thief, now--you doe--Hush!--no--Dame--here be the letter--I won't reead a word on't; put it where thee vound