University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Field.
Timothy Peascod bound; Corporal, Soldiers, and Countrymen.
Corporal.
Stand off there, Countrymen; and you, the Guard,
Keep close your Pris'ner—see that all's prepar'd.
Prime all your Firelocks—fasten well the Stake.

Peascod.
'Tis too much, too much Trouble for my sake.
O Fellow-Soldiers, Countrymen and Friends,
Be warn'd by me to shun untimely Ends:
For Evil Courses am I brought to Shame,
And from my Soul I do repent the same.
Oft my kind Grannam told me—Tim, take warning,
Be good—and say thy Pray'rs—and mind thy Learning.
But I, sad Wretch, went on from Crime to Crime;
I play'd at Nine-pins first in Sermon time:
I rob'd the Parson's Orchard next; and then
(For which I pray Forgiveness) stole—a Hen.
When I was press'd, I told them the first Day
I wanted Heart to fight, so ran away;
[Attempts to run off, but is prevented.
For which behold I die. 'Tis a plain Case,
'Twas all a Judgment for my Want of Grace.
[The Soldiers prime, with their Muskets towards him.
—Hold, hold, my Friends; nay, hold, hold, hold, I pray;
They may go off—and I have more to say.

I. Countryman.
Come, 'tis no time to talk.—

II. Countryman.
—Repent thine Ill,
And Pray in this good Book.—

[Gives him a Book.
Peascod.
—I will, I will.
Lend me thy Handkercher—The Pilgrim's Pro—
[Reads and weeps.
(I cannot see for Tears) Pro—Progress—Oh!
—The Pilgrim's Progress—Eighth—Edi—ti—on
Lon-don—Prin-ted—for—Ni-cho-las Bod-ding-ton:
With new Ad—di—tions never made before.
—Oh! 'tis so moving, I can read no more.

[Drops the Book.

SCENE II.

Peascod, Corporal, Soldiers, Countrymen, Sergeant, Filbert.
Sergeant.
What Whining's this?—Boys, see your Guns well ramm'd
You Dog, die like a Soldier—and be damn'd.

Filbert.
My Friend in Ropes!—

Peascod.
—I should not thus be bound,
If I had Means, and could but raise five Pound.
The cruel Corp'ral whisper'd in my Ear,
Five Pounds, if rightly tipt, would set me clear.

Filbert.
Here—Peascod, take my Pouch—'tis all I own.
(For what is Means and Life when Kitty's gone!)
'Tis my Press Money—can this Silver fail?
'Tis all except one Sixpence spent in Ale.
This had a Ring for Kitty's Finger bought,
Kitty on me had by that Token thought.
But for thy Life, poor Tim, if this can do't;
Take it, with all my Soul—thou'rt welcome to't.

[Offers him his Purse.
I. Countryman.
And take my Fourteen Pence—

II. Countryman.
—And my Cramp-ring.
Would, for thy sake, it were a better Thing.

III. Countryman.
And Master Sergeant, take my Box of Copper.

IV. Countryman.
And my Wife's Thimble.—

V. Countryman.
—And this 'Bacco-stopper.

Sergeant.
No Bribes. Take back your Things-I'll have them not.

Peascod.
Oh! must I die?—

Chorus of Countrymen.
—Oh! must poor Tim be shot!

Peascod.
But let me kiss thee first—

[Embracing Filbert.

SCENE III.

Peascod, Corporal, Soldiers, Countrymen, Sergeant, Filbert, Dorcas.
Dorcas.
—Ah, Brother Tim,
Why these close Hugs? I owe my Shame to him.
He scorns me now, he leaves me in the Lurch;
In a white Sheet poor I must stand at Church.
O marry me— [To Filbert.]
Thy Sister is with Child.
[To Tim.
And he, 'twas he my tender Heart beguil'd.

Peascod.
Could'st thou do this? couldst thou—

[In anger to Filbert.
Sergeant.
—Draw out the Men:
Quick to the Stake; you must be dead by Ten.

Dorcas.
Be dead! must Tim be dead?—

Peascod.
—He must—he must.

Dorcas.
Ah! I shall sink downright; my Heart will burst.
—Hold, Sergeant, hold—yet e'er you sing the Psalms,
Ah! let me ease my Conscience of its Qualms.
O Brother, Brother! Filbert still is true.
I fouly wrong'd him—do, forgive me, do.
[To Filb.
The Squire betray'd me; nay,—and what is worse,
Brib'd me with two Gold Guineas in this Purse,
To swear the Child to Filbert.—

Peascod.
—What a Jew
My Sister is!—Do, Tom, forgive her, do.

[To Filb.
Filbert.
[Kisses Dorcas.
But see thy base-born Child, thy Babe of Shame,
Who left by thee, upon our Parish came;
Comes for thy Blessing.—

SCENE IV.

Peascod, Corporal, Soldiers, Countrymen, Sergeant, Filbert, Dorcas, Joyce.
Peascod.
—Oh! my Sins of Youth!
Why on the Haycock didst thou tempt me, Ruth?
O save me, Sergeant;—how shall I comply?
I love my Daughter so—I cannot die.

Joyce.
Must Father die! and I be left forlorn?
A lack a day! that ever Joyce was born!
No Grandsire in his Arms e'er dandled me,
And no fond Mother danc'd me on her Knee.
They said, if ever Father got his Pay,
I should have Two-pence ev'ry Market-day.

Peascod.
Poor Child; hang Sorrow, and cast Care behind thee,
The Parish by this Badge is bound to find thee.

[Pointing to the Badge on her Arm.
Joyce.
The Parish finds indeed—but our Church-Wardens
Feast on the Silver, and give us the Farthings.
Then my School-Mistress, like a Vixen Turk,
Maintains her lazy Husband by our Work:
Many long tedious Days I've Worsted spun;
She grudg'd me Victuals when my Task was done.
Heav'n send me a good Service! for I now
Am big enough to wash, or milk a Cow.

Peascod.
O that I had by Charity been bred!
I then had been much better taught—than fed.
Instead of keeping Nets against the Law,
I might have learnt Accounts, and sung Sol—fa.
Farewell, my Child; spin on, and mind thy Book,
And send thee store of Grace therein to look.
Take Warning by thy shameless Aunt; lest thou
Shouldst o'er thy Bastard weep—as I do now.
Mark my last Words—an honest Living get;
Beware of Papishes, and learn to knit.

[Dorcas leads out Joyce sobbing and crying.

SCENE V.

Peascod, Corporal, Soldiers, Countrymen, Sergeant, Filbert.
Filbert.
Let's drink before we part—for Sorrow's dry.
To Tim's safe Passage.—

[Takes out a Brandy-bottle, and drinks.
I. Countryman.
—I'll drink too.

II. Countryman.
—And I.

Peascod.
Stay, let me pledge—'tis my last earthly Liquor.
[Drinks.
—When I am dead-you'll bind my Grave with Wicker.

[They lead him to the Stake.
I. Countryman.
He was a special Ploughman—

[Sighing.
II. Countryman.
—Harrow'd well!

III. Countryman.
And at our Maypole ever bore the Bell!

Peascod.
Say, is it fitting in this very Field,
Where I so oft have reap'd, so oft have till'd;
This Field, where from my Youth I've been a Carter,
I, in this Field, should die for a Deserter?

Filbert.
'Tis hard, 'tis wond'rous hard!—

Sergeant.
—Zooks, here's a Pother.
Strip him; I'd stay no longer for my Brother.

Peascod.
[Distributing his Things among his Friends.
Take you my 'Bacco Box—my Neckcloth, you.
To our kind Vicar send this Bottle-Skrew.
But wear these Breeches, Tom; they're quite bran-new.

Filbert.
Farewell—

I. Countryman.
—B'ye, Tim.—

II. Countryman.
—B'ye, Tim.

III. Countryman.
—Adieu.

IV. Countryman.
—Adieu.

[They all take their Leaves of Peascod by shaking Hands with him.

SCENE VI.

Peascod, Corporal, Soldiers, Countrymen, Sergeant, Filbert, to them a Soldier in great haste.
Soldier.
Hold—why so furious, Sergeant? by your Leave,
Untye the Pris'ner—See, here's a Reprieve.

[Shows a Paper.
Chorus of Countrymen.
[Huzzaing.
A Reprieve, a Reprieve, a Reprieve.

[Peascod is unty'd, and embraces his Friends.

SCENE VII.

Peascod, Corporal, Soldiers, Countrymen, Sergeant, Filbert, Constable.
Constable.
Friends, reprehend him, reprehend him there.

Sergeant.
For what?—

Constable.
—For stealing Gaffer Gap's gray Mare.

[They seize the Sergeant.
Peascod.
Why, heark ye, heark ye, Friend; you'll go to Pot.
Would you be rather hang'd—hah!—hang'd or shot?

Sergeant.
Nay, hold, hold, hold—

Peascod.
—Not if you were my Brother.
Why, Friend, should you not hang as well's Another?

Constable.
Thus said Sir John—the Law must take its course;
'Tis Law that he may 'scape who steals a Horse.
But (said Sir John) the Statutes all declare,
The Man shall sure be hang'd—that steals a Mare.

Peascod.
[To the Sergeant.
Ay—right—he shall be hang'd that steals a Mare.
He shall be hang'd—that's certain; and good Cause.
A rare good Sentence this—how is't?—the Laws
No—not the Laws—the Statutes all declare,
The Man that steals a Mare shall sure—be—hang'd
No, no—he shall be hang'd that steals a Mare.

[Exit Sergeant guarded, Countrymen, &c. huzzaing after him.

SCENE VIII.

Kitty with her Hair loose, Grandmother, Aunt, Haymakers, Chorus of Sighs and Groans.
Kitty.
Dear happy Fields, farewell; ye Flocks, and you
Sweet Meadows, glitt'ring with the pearly Dew:
And thou, my Rake, Companion of my Cares,
Giv'n by my Mother in my younger Years:
With thee the Toils of full eight Springs have known,
'Tis to thy Help I owe this Hat and Gown;
On thee I've lean'd, forgetful of my Work,
While Tom gaz'd on me, propt upon his Fork:
Farewel, farewel; for all thy Task is o'er,
Kitty shall want thy Service now no more.

[Flings away the Rake.
Chorus of Sighs and Groans.
Ah—O!—Sure never was the like before!

Kitty.
Happy the Maid, whose Sweetheart never hears
The Soldier's Drum, nor Writ of Justice fears.
Our Bans thrice bid! and for our Wedding Day
My Kerchief bought! then press'd then forc'd away!

Chorus of Sighs and Groans.
Ah! O! poor Soul! alack! and well a day!

Kitty.
You, Bess, still reap with Harry by your Side;
You, Jenny, shall next Sunday be a Bride:
But I forlorn!—This Ballad shews my Care;
[Gives Susan a Ballad.
Take this sad Ballad, which I bought at Fair:
Susan can sing—do you the Burthen bear.

A BALLAD.
[Susan.]

Kitty.
Why in this World should wretched Kitty stay?
What if these Hands should make my self away?
I could not sure do otherways than well.
A Maid so true's too innocent for Hell.
But hearkye, Cis—

[Whispers and gives her a Penknife
Aunt.
—I'll do't—'tis but to try
If the poor Soul can have the Heart to die.
[Aside to the Haymakers.
Thus then I strike—but turn thy Head aside.

Kitty.
'Tis shameless sure to fall as Pigs have dy'd.
No—take this Cord—

[Gives her a Cord.
Aunt.
—With this thou shalt be sped.

[Putting the Noose round her Neck.
Kitty.
But Curs are hang'd.—

Aunt.
—Christians should die in bed.

Kitty.
Then lead me thither; there I'll moan and weep,
And close these weary Eyes in Death.—

Aunt.
—or Sleep.

[Aside.
Kitty.
When I am cold, and stretch'd upon my Bier,
My restless Sprite shall walk at Midnight here:
Here shall I walk—for 'twas beneath yon Tree
Filbert first said he lov'd—lov'd only me.

[Kitty faints.
Grandmother.
She swoons, poor Soul—help, Dolly.

Aunt.
—She's in Fits.
Bring Water, Water, Water.—

[Screaming.
Grandmother.
—Fetch her Wits.

[They throw Water upon her.
Kitty.
Hah!—I am turn'd a Stream—look all below;
It flows, and flows, and will for ever flow.
The Meads are all afloat—the Haycocks swim.
Hah! who comes here?—my Filbert! drown not him.
Bagpipes in Butter, Flocks in fleecy Fountains,
Churns, Sheep-hooks, Seas of Milk, and honey Mountains.

SCENE IX.

Kitty, Grandmother, Aunt, Haymakers, Chorus of Sighs and Groans, Filbert.
Kitty.
It is his Ghost—or is it he indeed?
Wert thou not sent to War? hah, dost thou bleed?
No—'tis my Filbert.

Filbert.
[Embracing her.
—Yes, 'tis he, 'tis he.
Dorcas confess'd; the Justice set me free.
I'm thine again.—

Kitty.
—I thine—

Filbert.
—Our Fears are fled.
Come, let's to Church, to Church.—

Kitty.
—To wed.

Filbert.
—To Bed.

Chorus of Haymakers.
A Wedding, a Bedding; a Wedding, a Bedding.

[Exeunt all the Actors.