What D'Ye Call It, The: A Tragi-Comi-Pastoral Farce - Act 2, Scene 8

SCENE VIII.

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 I've known,
'Tis to thy help I owe this hat and gown;
On thee I lean'd, forgetful of my work,
While Tom gaz'd on me, propt upon his fork:
Farewell, farewell; for all thy task is o'er,
Kitty shall want thy service now no more.

CHORUS of Sighs and G ROANS .

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 ban thrice bid! and for our wedding day
My kerchief bought! then press'd, then forc'd away!

CHORUS of Sighs and G ROANS .

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;
Take this sad ballad, which I bought at fair:
Susan can sing — — do you the burthen bear.

A BALLAD.

I.

'TWAS when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind;
A damsel lay deploring,
All on a rock reclin'd.
Wide o'er the rolling billows
She cast a wistful look;
Her head was crown'd with willows
That tremble o'er the brook.

II.

Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why didst thou, vent'rous lover,
Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean,
And let my lover rest:
Ah! what 's thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

III.

The merchant, rob'd of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair;
But what 's the loss of treasure
To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on
Where gold and di'monds grow,
You'd find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.

IV.

How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain;
Why then beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain?
No eyes the rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wand'ring lover,
And leave the maid to weep.

V.

All melancholy lying,
Thus wail'd she for her dear;
Repay'd each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When, o'er the white wave stooping,
His floating corpse she spy'd;
Then like a lily drooping,
She bow'd her head, and dy'd.

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 — — —

AUNT.

— — — I'll do't — — 'tis but to try
If the poor soul can have the heart to die.
Thus then I strike — — but turn thy head aside.

KITTY.

'Tis shameless sure to fall as pigs have dy'd.
No — take this cord —

AUNT.

— — — With this thou shalt be sped.

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.

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.

GRANDMOTHER.

She swoons, poor Soul — help, Dolly .

AUNT.

— — — She 's in fits.
Bring water, water, water. — —

GRANDMOTHER.

— — — Fetch her wits.

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.
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