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MALE VOICE.

Hence suspicion, envy, strife,
Every ill that poisons life,
Skulking vice, and specious art,
All that spoils, or cheats the heart.

CHORUS OF MALE VOICES.
Here the chastened loves invite.
Harmless dalliance, pure delight,
Choral sonnet, festive play,
'Tis Maria's bridal day.

MALE VOICE.

PLENTY come with ceaseless hoard,
MIRTH to crown the evening board,
TRUTH the nuptial bed to guard
Joy and PEACE, its bright reward.

FEMALE VOICES.

But the chief invited guest,
HEALTH in rosy mantle drest,
Come, and with thy lengthened stay,
Make her life a bridal day.

CHORUS.

Spread the tidings o'er the plain,
Call around each maid and swain,
Dress'd in garlands fresh and gay,
'Tis Maria's bridal day.

very cradle, and made a prey to interest is the common lot attending it-These reflections, call them whims, call them singularities, what you please, induced me to conceal your birth; being abroad at the time, the plan was easily executed.

Maria. How blind have I been? benevolent as you are to all, I might still have perceived and interpreted the distinction of your unre mitting tenderness-how could I mistake the parent's partiality, the parent's fondness?

Old. Your happiness has been the motive of my actions, be it my excuse-The design bas answered wonderfully-for though Maria's virtues would have wanted the humble station of the Maid of the Oaks to give her due proof of a disinterested lover.

Maria. O, sir! expect not words-where shall I find even sentiments of tenderness, gratitude, and duty, that were not yours before.

Old. The life of my ward, is a pledge, for that of the daughter and wife-To you, Sr Harry, I shall make no apology for my secrecy; it has served to give scope and exercise to your generosity, a sensation more gratifying to minds, like your's, than any acquisition of fortunethat pleasure past, accept now, with Maria's hand, the inheritance of Oldworth's Oaks.

Sir Har. Sir, your conduct does not surprise but it overwhelms me-long may you remain the possessor of Oldworth's Oaks! when y cease to be so, he will ill deserve to succeed you, who does not make your example the chief ob

Dupe. New joy to the disinterested lover, and to the destined Queen of the Oaks!

Old. Thank you, my honest friends and neigh-ject of his imitation. bours; if your hearts o'erflow with joy, how must it be with mine? I beg you to retire a moment. [They retire. He walks about greatly agitated.] Oh, my heart! my heart! what a moment is this! I cannot bear it! the tide's too strong, and will o'erwhelm me.

Lady Bab. To the amiable pair, and the rewarder of their merits-Mr. Oldworth, you pro mised us a singular regale but you have outdong yourself.

Grove. Regale! 'egad I don't know what to call it he has almost turned the Champétre into a tragedy, I think-I never felt my eyes double it-twinkle so oddly before, have at your bottles and long corks!

Maria. What is the cause of this? Old. You are, Maria-you! Maria. Am I, sir?-heaven forbid ! Old. Heaven has granted it, and I avow have liv'd to see in these times, successful merit, and disinterested love-my hopes and wishes are accomplish'd! my long projected joys are full, and I will proclaim them? I have a child!

Maria. Sir!

Old. Come to my arms, Maria! thy father's arms! if my lips fail me, let my heart in throbs, speak the discovery.

Old. My worthy friend, brother let me cal you! I have robbed you of a pleasure; I know you also had your eye upon my Maid of the Oaks, for an exercise of your generosity,

Grove. It is very true, I should have been as well pleased as her lover to receive her only with an under petticoat, though not quite for the same reason-but you may perceive how curs edly vexed I am at the dissappointment. (pauses) rap-once more-I will have no Nabobs nor NabobAy, I must alter the disposition of my acres besses in my family.

Maria. Oh, sir! explain this mystery. Old. I have a father's right! my child's conduct has made it a proud one.

Maria. How, how, Sir!-I am lost in

ture and amazement!

Grove. So we are all.

Old. Excuse me, brother, madam, all-my story is very short, Maria; the hour of your birth made me a widower, and you a splendid heiress; I trembled at the dangers of that situation, made more dangerous by the loss of your mother-to be the object of flattery in the

Lady Bab. The females would be the better of the two, for all that: they would not be guilty of so much rapacity to acquire a fortave, and they would spend it to better purposes.

Dupe. By as much as a province is better disposed of in a jewel at the breast of a Clear patra, than when it is melted down in the fat

rations.

guts of mayors and burgesses of country corpo- | us hear it-while she is singing we'll steal off and join the company. [Aside to DUPELEY.] Come, my dear pray begin.

Grove. I agree in your preference between the two; but an honest country gentleman, and a plain English wife is more respectable and useful than both, so do you hear, madam, take care to provide me a second son, fit for that sort of family, let him be an bonest fellow, and a jolly fellow, and in every respect a proper representative for Gloomstock-ball.

Enter HURRY.

Hurry. An't please your honour and worship here are all the quality persons in fanciful dresses

-you never saw such a sight, they are for all the world like the Turks and Prussians, do but look at 'em, how they come prancing along through the grove? I never saw any thing so fine, and so proud, and so fantasticalLord, I wonder any body will ever wear a coat and waistcoat again-This is Sham Peter indeed!

Grove. My friend Hurry is in the rightHarry, come and help to dress me, for 'till I have got my fool's coat on, I can't make one among 'em

Sir Har. I'll wait upon you-My sweet Maria, I must leave you for a few minutes-for an age.

Old. My heart is disburthen'd, and free to entertain my friends-Come, Maria, let us meet them, and show in our faces the joy of our hearts-Will your ladyship and Mr. Dupeley assist us?

[Erit OLDWORTH and SIR HARRY. Lady Bab. O, most willingly, Mr. Oldworth! [As she is going out, she sees ACTEA coming. " Angels and misters of grace defend us!" Dupe. Hey-day! what is coming, Lady Bab? Lady Bab. O, that most hideous of all goblins. a country cousin—and I can neither avoid her, nor overlook her, as I should do in town.

Dupe. Where is the barbarian?

Lady Bab. Mistake her if you can--the lovely Diana there that is talking to Maria, with a tin cressent upon her head, big enough for a Turkish

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Actaa sings her Hunting Song, during which
LADY BAB, and DUPELEY steal off laughing.

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Enter HURRY.

Actaa. O cousin! Lady Bab! here am I at the head of my hunters-I left the company to Hurry. Gentlemen, nobility, ladies and gentry, come to you-I wan't to practise my song be- you are all wanted in the Temple of Venice, to fore I sing it in public, you shall hear me, Ha!-but I'll not say what, that you may be more ha! ha! surprised; and if you are surprised here, you'll Lady Bab. O you delicate creature! pray let be inore surprised there, and we shan't have

done with you there neither—pray make haste | or you'll get no place. [They all croud off. Hurry. Alone.] Bless my heart, how the whole place goes round with me !-my head seems illuminated as well as that there. [Pointing to the building.] See what it is to have more business than one's brains can bear; I am as giddy as a goose; yet I have not touched a drop of liquor to day-but two glasses of punch, a pint of hot

negus to warm me, a bottle of cyder to cool me
again, and a dram of cherry-bounce to keep all
quiet-I should like to lie down a little-but
then what would become of the Sham-Peter?-
no, as I am entrusted with a high office, I scorn
to flinch; I will keep my eyes open, and my head
clear-ay, and my hands too—and I wish all my
countrymen had done the same at the genera
election.
[Reels

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The Saloon.

A Minuet.

After the Minuet, enter a Shepherdess drawing forward a Shepherd by the arm.

DUETTO.

She. Simon, why so lost in wonder,
At these folk of high degree?
If they're finer, we are fonder;
Love is wealth to you and me.
He. Phabe stop, and learn more duty,

We're too lowly here to please:
Oh, how splendour brightens beauty;
Who'd not wish to be like these?

She. Pr'ythee, Simon, cease this gazing,
They're deceitful, as they're fair;
Ile. But their looks are all so pleasing,
Phabe, how can I forbear?

She. Simon, stop, and learn more duty:
He. Honest freedom can't displease;
He. Riches give new charms to beauty.
She. Riches give no charms to beauty.
He. Who'd not wish to be like these?
She. Who would wish to be like these?

Where'er I come,
Nobody's dumb;
Prating, prancing,
Singing, dancing;

Running o'er with mirth and glee.

From country elections, I gallop'd post haste,
For there, I am always the most busy guest;
And whether it be in the country or town,
I'm hugg'd very close, by the cil and the cloxa
The courtier, the patriot, the turn-coat and ell,
If I do not sweeten, breed nothing but gall
I'm here, and there, so

The statesman, without me, unhappy would be;
No lady so chaste, but gallants it with me;
The gravest of faces, who physick the land,
For all their grimaces, shake me by the hand;
At the play-house, a friend to the author, I sit,
And clap in the gallery, boxes and pit.
I'm here and there, &c.

[A slow symphony—all the company retire to the wings on each side; the curtains of the saloos are drawn up, and discovers the company st supper.

Enter Druid.

Druid. Folly, away! nor taint this nuptial feast!

The character of Folly enters from the top of I come a friendly, self-invited guest ; the stage to a lively symphony.

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The Druid of these Oaks, long doom'd to dere!!
Invisible, till beauty broke the spell;
Beauty, which here erects her throne,
And every spell dissolves, except her own.

Beauty breaks the magic spell,
Her power can every power subdue ;
Can charm the Druid from his cell,
To revel and rejoice with you!

What cannot beauty, spotless beauty do?

Stand all apart, while mortals learn
The recompence their virtues earn;

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Maria, take this oaken crown,
The region round is all your own:
See ev'ry Dryad of the groves,
With bending head, salute your loves;
And Naïads, deck'd in constant green,
With homage due, avow their queen;
Here all of autumn, all of spring,
The flower and fruit to you they bring;
And, while they heap the lavish store,
A father's blessing makes it more.

Maria. It does, indeed! my heart overflows with happiness.

Old. Long, long, may it do so! my dear, my matchless, daughter!-Come then, my friends and children; I see our joys are too sincere and spirited to be any longer celebrated in magic and allegory.

Grove. I ask your pardon, friend Oldworth; this reverend old gentleman Druid has charmed me, and I hope we shall have more of his company-A contempt for old times may be fashionable, but I am pleas'd with every thing that brings them to my remembrance-I have an old oak at my heart, and can sit under its shade 'till I dream of Cressy and Agincourt; it is the emblem of British fortitude, and like the heroic spirits of the island, while it overtops, it protects the undergrowth-And now, old son of Misletoe, set that sentiment to music. Old. And he shall, brother.

[Druid gives signs to the musicians.

SONG.

Two voices.

Grace and strength of Britain's isle,
May'st thou long thy glories keep,
Make her hills with verdure smile,
Bear her triumphs o'er the deep.

CHORUS. Grace and strength, &c.

Dupe. Well, Lady Bab, are your spirits quite exhausted, or have the events of the day made you pensive? I begin to believe there are more rational systems of happiness than ours--should my fair instructress become a convert, my ambition would be still to follow her.

Lady Bab. I am no convert-my mind has ever been on the side of reason, though the torrent in which I have lived has not allowed me time to practise, or even to contemplate it as I ought-but to follow fashion, where we feel shame, is surely the strongest of all hypocrisy, and from this moment I renounce it.

Grove. And you never made a better renounce in your life.

Lady Bab. Lady Grovely accept the friendship of one sincerely desirous to imitate your virtues Mr. Oldworth, you do not know me yet; you forbad your company masks upon their faces, I have worn one upon my character to you and to the world.

Old. Lady Bab wanted but the resolution to appear in her genuine charms, to make her a model to her rank, and to the age.

Dupe. To those charms I owe my conversion —and my heart, hitherto a prodigal, justly fixes with her, from whom it received the first impression of love and reason-There wants but the hand of Lady Bab, to make Oldworth's Oaks distinguished by another union, founded on merit in her sex, and discernment in mine.

Lady Bab. Sir, your proposal does me honour; but it is time enough to talk of hearts and hands -Let us follow the example before us in every thing-after the life we have led, six months probation may be very proper for us both.

Old. Amiable Lady Bab!-Confer the gift when you please; but my Fête Champêtre shall be remember'd as the date of the promise-and now for such a song and dance as will best conclude so happy a day.

[A short flourish of instruments.

VAUDEVILLE.

SHEPHERD.

Ye fine fangled folks, who from cities and courts,
By your presence enliven the fields,
Accept for your welcome innocent sports,
And the fruits that our industry yields,

CHORUS. Ye fine fangled folks, &c.

No Temple we raise to the idol of wealth,
No altar to interest smokes,

To the blessings of love, kind seasons and health,
Is devoted the Feast of the Oaks.

CHORUS. No temple we raise, &c.

SHEPHERDESS.

From the thicket and plain, each favourite
haunt,

The villagers hasten away,
Your encouraging smile is the bounty they want,
To compensate the toils of the day.

CHORUS. From the thicket, &c.

The milk-maid abandons her pail and her cow,
In the furrow the ploughman unyokes,
From the valley and meadow all press to the
brow,

To assist at the Feast of the Oaks.

CHORUS. The milk-maid, &c.

SHEPHERD.

The precept we teach is contentment and truth,
That our girls may not learn to beguile,
By reason to govern the pleasures of youth,
And decorate age with a smile;

CHORUS. The precept we teach, &c.

No serpent approaches with venomous tooth,
No raven with ominous croaks,
Nor rancorous critic, more fatal than both,
Shall poison the Feast of the Oaks.

CHORUS. No serpent approaches, &c.

SHEPHERDESS.

Bring roses, and myrtles, new circlets to weave,
Ply the flutes in new measures to move,
And lengthen the song to the star of the eve,
The favouring planet of love.

CHORUS. Bring roses and myrtles.

Oh Venus! propitious attend to the lay, Each shepherd the blessing invokes:

May he who is true, like the youth of to-day, Find a prize like the Maid of the Oaks. CHORUS. Oh Venus ! propitious, &c.

Druid. [Stopping the musicians.] Yet holdthough Druid now no more, He's wrong who thinks my spells are o'er, Thus midst you all I throw them round, Oh, may they fall on genial ground! May ev'ry breast their influence prove! The magic lics in truth of love; 'Tis that irradiates ev'ry scene, Restores from clouds the blue serene, And makes, without a regal dome, A palace of each humble home.

[A grand dance.

N. B. This was reduced to three Acts and performed as an Afterpiece.

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