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I.

The Pedlar.
Betsy.
A curious girl is Faith, my friend;
I love her well. But, comprehend?
No more than I do double-Dutch;
That is what puzzles me so much!
Then, she loves me, and, strange to tell,
She seems to understand me well,
Yet looks as if she quite forgot
Whether she understood or not.
I do believe she scarcely knows
When she walks out, which way she goes,

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And yet she always finds her way;
At least—that is—I mean to say—
That is, I think—her way finds her.
And, sure as my name's Provender,
Or something like it, she is here,
And looking tenfold good and dear,
With eyes that seem to read the skies
Through everything that near her lies.

Enter Faith.
Faith.
Dear friend! I am glad to have you near.

Betsy.
A penny for your thoughts, my dear!

Faith.
My thoughts? I think—that I have none.

Betsy
(aside).
Oh, the dear girl! it is such fun!
You see those straws together rolled?

Faith.
I see a sheaf of rods of gold.

Betsy.
You see those curious clouds out there,
All sorts of colours, layer on layer:
Pray tell me what you think of them.

Faith.
I see the New Jerusalem
Up in the heavens.

Betsy
(aside).
I told you so:
A very curious girl, you know!
Well, dear, what do you think of me?


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Faith
(smiling).
I think you are too good a friend
For me to have, unless I mend;
You seem an angel from the skies;
So patient with my faults, so wise;
You read my soul, too, with your eyes!

Betsy.
Pray stop! The Pedlar comes this way.
What would you like to have to-day?

Faith.
Oh, nothing.

Betsy.
That is like my friend!
To buy some ribbons I intend,
And, as for you, some lovely thing—
Oh, it shall be a diamond ring!

Enter Pedlar and a mêlée.
Pedlar.
Now, lasses and lads
And mothers and dads,
And sisters and brothers,
And sweethearts and others,
A pedlar am I,
And what will you buy?
Here's earrings and laces
For pretty young faces,

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With needles and pins,
And hosen for shins,
With ribbons for curls,
And diamonds and pearls—

Betsy.
Sell me this ribbon at your ease,
And a diamond ring!

Pedlar.
Miss, as you please;
Here is the ribbon; here the ring.

Betsy.
Pray, Mr. Pedlar, is this thing
A re—al diamond?

Pedlar.
Yes, you know,
As long as you but think it so.
[Winking aside.
Now lads and lasses, come, buy! buy!

[Exit.
Betsy.
Dear Faith, your finger let us try:
This diamond ring was made for you,
It fits exactly.

Faith.
That is true;
Whatever love like yours proposes,
Is sure to fit like moss on roses.

Betsy
(starting).
Oh, how it flashes on your finger!

Faith
(smiling).
It spoke to you, you dear joy-bringer;

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The light and colour spoke quite plain.

Betsy.
Nonsense! (Aside).
There, she is off again!


[Exeunt talking.