LXVI. COUNTRY SERVANTS.* ACT II. SCENE. An old-fashioned House. Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four awkward SERVANTS. Hard. Well, I hope you are perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places, and can show that you have been used to good company, without ever stirring from home. All. Ay, ay. Hard. When company comes you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frighted rabbits in a warren. All. No, no. Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a show at the side-table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand So, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter. Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them. I learned to hold my hands this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, * From She Stoops to Conquer, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating. Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forward, ecod, he's always wishing for a mouthful himself. Hard. Blockhead! Is not a belly-full in the kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection. Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry. Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative.-Then, if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a-laughing, as if you made part of the company. Dig. Then ecod your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room: I can't help laughing at that-he! he he!-for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years-ha! ha ha! Hard. Ha ha ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that-but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave? A glass of wine, sir, if you please (to Diggory).-Eh, why don't you move? Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upo' the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. Hard. What, will nobody move? First Serv. I'm not to leave this pleace. Second Serv. I'm sure it's no pleace of mine. Third Serv. Nor mine, for sartain. Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine. Hard. You numskulls! and so while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved. O you dunces! I find I must begin all over again. But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockheads. I'll go in the meantime and give my old friend's son a hearty reception at [Exit HARDCASTLE. the gate. Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. To the misled and lonely traveller? This is the place, as well as I may guess, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, That He, the Supreme good, to whom all things ill Was I deceiv'd or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night, Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest SONG 4 Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph, that liv'st unseen By slow Meander's margent green, Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair O if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere; And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies. How sweetly did they float upon the wings Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs, |