'But if Phoebe's my bride,

And will all my paft follies forget,
While with her I refide,

'A thatch'd house will have nought to regret,

From the mead or the field,

If, fatigu'd, I return when 'tis night;
New life, new vigour, fhe'll yield,
New comfort and joy to my fight.

E'er the fun gilds the plains,
'Or reddens the tops of the groves,
'I fhall charm all my pains

"By finging with rapture our loves. C Man. We all with zeal must here effay To fignalize ourselves to-day :

• And fince I cannot jump fo high as you,
My part fhall be to fing a fong that's new.
[Pulls a foug out of his pocket, and fings.
AIR.

• Sometimes a paffion's rais'd by art.
• Sometimes 'tis nature gives the fmart;
• Though courtly lovers well can charm,
Yet village hearts are still more warm.
Love is juft like April weather,
'Ne'er the fame an hour together:
Froward, fickle, wanton, wild,

Nothing, nothing but a child.

• Col. "Tis but a child, 'tis but a child.

RECITATIVE.

Stay, ftay, there other verfes are-
And very pretty too, I fwear.

"[To the Cunning Man, who is putting the fong in his • pocket.]

• Pha. Let's fee, let's fee-I eager burn,

To fing a stanza in my turn.

A I R.

Tho' here alone with nature love
In fimple guise delights to rove;

In other places, he no less

Affects the borrow'd charms of drefs.

Love is just like April weather,
Ne'er the fame an hour together::
Froward, fickle, wanton, wild,
Nothing, nothing but a child.
CHORU S.

'Tis but a child, 'tis but a child.. Col. A cherish'd flame we often fee Produc'd by ingenuity;

A fickle heart we oft retain
By arts coquetish, light and vain..
Love is juft like April, &c.
Pha. Yet love disposes of us all,
At his own fancy's fickle call:
Black jealousy he now permits,
Now punishes our jealous fits.
Love is just like April, &c.
Col. From fair to fair, while fickly toft,
The happy moment's often loft:

A fwain quite conftant oft will find,
'He's lefs belov'd than one unkind.
Love is juft like April, &c.
Pha. On mortals each caprice to prove,

Now fmiles, now tears, awaken love :
Rebuff'd rebuff'd-[Finds it difficult to read.

Colin. [Who helps her to decypher it.]

-Rebuff'd by rigour, far he flies.

Pha. By favours weaken'd, faints, and dies.
Both. Love is just like April weather,

6

Ne'er the fame an hour together;

Froward, fickle, wanton, wild,
Nothing, nothing but a child..
CHORUS.

''Tis but a child, 'tis but a child..

AIR.

Pha. United with the fwain I love,

My life a round of joy will prove;

Of grief we ne'er can feel the sting,

While thus we laugh, and dance and fing
'What a bleffing is life,

If 'tis feafon'd by love?
No care, no forrow, or ftrife,,
Can its joy e'er remove..

Thuas

Thus a gentle river flows,

'Meand'ring as it goes,

its way.

Through flow'ry meads which grace
With all that's fair, and fweet, and gay.

United with the fwain I love,

My life a round of joy will prove;
"Of grief we ne'er can feel the fting.
"While thus we laugh, and dance, and fing."
AIR.

Let us now dance with mirth and glee,
Laffes and lads, beat, beat the ground :-
Let us now dance all under this tree,
To the fweet pipe's enlivening found..
CHORUS.

[Repeats with her; the Villagers dancing at the fame
time.]

Let us now dance, &c.

Let us first fing, then dance to each air;
And in the joy that all may have part,
Let each fwain dance with his fav'rite fair,
And let each lafs have the lad of her heart.
Then let us now dance, &c.

Tho' noife and fplendour they boaft of in town,
More heart-felt enjoyments our feftivals crown:
While dance and fong

Our blifs prolong,

And beauty warms

With artless charms

What mufic e'er with our pipes can compare?

Then let us all dance with mirth and glee ;;
Laffes and lads, beat, beat the ground;

Let us then dance all under this tree
To the fweet pipe's enliv'ning found,

THE

My dear fifter, let me tell you

Mifs Har. But, my dear fifter, let me tell you it is in vain; you can fay nothing that will have any effect. Mrs. Har. Not if you won't hear me-only hear meMifs Har. Oh, Ma'am, I know you love to hear yourself talk, and fo please yourself; but I am refolved

Mrs. Har. Your refolution may
Mifs Har. Never.

alter.

Mrs. Har. Upon a little confideration.

Mifs Har. Upon no confideration.

Mrs. Har. You don't know how that may be.-Recollect, fister, that you are no chicken-you are not now of the age that becomes giddinefs and folly.

Mifs Har. Age, Ma'am

Mrs. Har. Do but hear me, fister-do but hear me A perfon of your years

Mifs Har. My years, fifter!Upon my word!
Mrs. Har. Nay, no offence, fifter-

Mifs Har. But there is offence, Ma'am :- -I don't understand what you meant by it-always thwarting me with my years- my years indeed! -when perhaps,

Ma'am, if I was to die of old age, fome folks might have reafon to look about them.

Mrs. Har. She feels it, I fee-Oh, I delight in mortifying her. [Afide.]Sifter, if I did not love you, i am fure I should not talk to you in this manner

-But

how can you make so unkind a return now, as to alarm me about myself?In fome fixteen or eighteen years after you, to be fure, I own I fhall begin to think of making my will-How could you be so severe ?

If

Mifs Har. Some fixteen or eighteen years, Ma'am ! you would own the truth, Ma'am-I believe, Ma'am, -you would find, Ma'am, that the disparity, Ma'am is not fo very great, Ma'am

Mrs. Har. Well, I vow paffion becomes you inordinately.- -It blends a few rofes with the lilies of your cheek, and

Mifs. Har. And though you are married to my brother, Ma'am, I would have you to know, Ma'am, that you are not thereby any way authorised, Ma'am, to take unbecoming liberties with his fifter.I am independent of my brother, Ma'am-my fortune is in my own hands, Ma'am; and, Ma'am

Mrs. Har. Well, do you know now, when your blood circulates a little, that I think you look mighty well?— But you was in the wrong not to marry at my agefweet three and twenty ! -You can't conceive what a deal of good it would have done your temper and your fpirits, if you had married early-—

Mifs Har. Infolent !-provokieg-female maliceMrs. Har. But to be waiting till it is almost too late