University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

Corner of the Market-place. Car, selling vegetables.
Car.

Not twelve o'clock yet! I wish it was neet! Can onybody tell me if that clock bees stonin'? It doesn't look to me to move a bit! Yet it did tak' a stert when I look'd a while the other way.—Supposing it was twelve now, how long would that be while eight? Add twelve from eight. No, substract twelve to eight. You cannot. Put down your ought and then reduct. Why, it's more till a whole day put together; which is some error.—Howsomever, I must goa to the Brig at eight. Merget said nine; but it's best to be in time. (Enter a woman, who looks at the vegetables.)
Two-pence a stone missus. (Woman goes away.)
Verra weel; yo needn't buy them. It's dirt cheap for turmits.—I doant need to lower my price now for no woman. I want to leave the merket with a good character; so that hucksters will say, “He was a rare good chap was Richard for keepin' up prices.” “Prices has never been what they was since Richard wed Merget and went to the Brig.” “It was a ill day for aur trade when Richard sterted landlord.” “But a man has a reet to better hissel', and here's wishin' his verra good health.”—Yonder comes Wheeler, one o' them town swells that would like to catch Merget. But hoo wouldn't have a town's mon on no account.

Town's folk is actiwally not worth a leek, and quite as green.

Enter Wheeler.
Wheeler.
(aside)

There's Car the gardener. I met him on the road half drunk last night, shouting to everyone that passed, “My name is Richard Car, or Dick, if you will. I'll be wed to Merget Riccard in a week, and never sell a turmit nor a green thing no more.”—Good morning, Richard. I hear you are going to be married and turn landlord.

Car.

What, down at the Brig? Nay, nay, Measter Wheeler, Merget would never take the like o' me. You've the best chance yonder.

Wheeler.

I once thought so, Richard. She's an excellent wench, and a pretty. But she wants a man that knows gardening and farming; and that's just the reason she's taking you in preference to me.

Car.

Hoo always said hoo would have nowt but a country mon. But I howp yo'll take no offence, Measter Wheeler. It's not my fault yo knoan. Yo'll not leave the house will yo?

Wheeler.

Leave the house! Hang it, no! I'll take my glass

as usual. Why, man, although I know you and she will be man and wife in a week, yet shall I be down to-night, and perhaps dance a quadrille with her, if you'll let me.

Car.

You'll be vastly welcome, Measter Wheeler; for I'm nowt at cowreels mysel'. I've been too much at cow heels for that,—ha, ha, ha!

Wheeler.

You've that to thank for your good fortune, Richard. (Thanks to the tailor's ring, I can afford to joke on this subject.) Good morning, Richard.

[Exit.

Car.

Good day, Measter Wheeler.—He's a verra nice gentlemany gentleman that.—I must go, though; for there will be nowt more done to-day.—Merget's been telling him all about it, I can see; and he taks it weel—verra weel. I thowt he would be vext, but he wasn't; for he sees it isn't my fault.

(Loads his barrow, preparing to leave the market, and sings.)

It's a very lamancholy sweet song; and if I could bethink me of the rest of it, I would sing it over all day; for I'll be like to give it them at neet. So I'll goa and bethink me.

[Exit.

Re-enter Wheeler, with Greene.
Greene.

—because, if you have not given it her I would rather ------

Wheeler.
But I have given it her.

Greene.
I would rather ------

Wheeler.
But I tell you I have given it her.

Greene.
Are you quite certain of that?

Wheeler.
How could I be uncertain?

Greene.
And how did she take it?

Wheeler.
O, not with the tongs—gingerly.

Greene.

I mean, how did she look? What did she say or think? In short, how did the thing take?

Wheeler.

Well, she looked as if she had been newly shaken out of a bag; and when she came to herself, she said it was a sweet pretty thing, kissed it, and put it on her finger. What she thought, I could not swear to, but I flatter me she wished such brotherly love might continue. In short, the thing took just as I expected it would; and of this you shall shortly be convinced. So, go on and prosper, my boy. (Slapping him on the shoulder.)
Good-day.

[Exit.

Greene.

It might be well to prosecute this thing, and not tamely give it up, as I had determined. My battle, it would seem, is half fought by this ally of mine, her brother. And the prize! Why, it may not be so bad after all. She's extremely pretty, and I love her distractedly

—with the single exception that she has this brother. But the old fellow's rich, and even the half would not be bad. Then, there's the business: Margaret is sole manager now, and must inevitably inherit it; for that rattletrap could not settle to it. Besides, I will encourage him to drink, and we all know the up-shot of that. Yes, yes, my course seems perfectly clear. But I'll first make the necessary inquiries as to the will, &c. Oh, yes, I'll be cautious not to commit myself. They shan't have an action out of me.

[Exit.