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_ ACT I - SCENE I
The garden of the Road Farm. To the right an arbour covered with roses. MRS. GARDNER is seated in it, knitting. WILLIAM is tying up flowers and watering them.
MRS. GARDNER.
And you have come to a ripe age when 'tis the plain duty of a man to turn himself towards matrimony, William.
WILLIAM.
'Tis a bit of quiet that I'm after, Mother.
MRS. GARDNER.
Quiet! 'tis a good shaking up as you want, William. Why, you have got as set in your ways as last season's jelly.
WILLIAM.
Then let me bide so. 'Tis all I ask.
MRS. GARDNER.
No, William. I'm got to be an old woman now, and 'tis time that I had someone at my side to help in the house-keeping and to share the work.
WILLIAM.
What's Susan for, if 'tisn't to do that?
MRS. GARDNER.
Susan? As idle a piece of goods as ever was seen on a summer's day! No. 'Tisn't a serving maid that I was thinking of, but someone who should be of more account in the house. 'Tis a daughter that I'm wanting, William, and I've picked out the one who is to my taste.
WILLIAM.
Then you've done more than I have, Mother.
MRS. GARDNER.
'Tis the young person whom Luther Smith has left his farm and all his money to. I've got my eye on her for you, William.
WILLIAM.
Then you'll please to put your eye somewhere else, Mother, for I've seen them, and they don't suit me.
MRS. GARDNER.
Come, this is news, William. Pray where did you meet?
WILLIAM.
'Twas when I was in church last Sunday. In they came, the two young maids from Luthers, like a couple of gallinie fowls, the way they did step up over the stones and shake the plumes of them this way and that. I don't hold with fancy tricks. I never could abide them. No foreign wenches for me. And that's about all.
MRS. GARDNER.
'Tis true they are from town, but none the worse for that, William. You have got sadly rude and cumbersome in your ways, or you wouldn't feel as you do towards a suitable young person. 'Tis from getting about with John so much, I think.
WILLIAM.
Now look you here, Mother, I've got used to my own ways, and when a man's got set in his own ways, 'tis best to leave him there. I'm past the age for marrying, and you ought to know this better than anyone.
MRS. GARDNER.
I know that 'tis a rare lot of foolishness that you do talk, William, seeing as you're not a year past thirty yet. But if you can't be got to wed for love of a maid, perhaps you'll do so for love of a purse, when 'tis fairly filled.
WILLIAM.
There's always been enough for you and me so far, Mother.
MRS. GARDNER.
Ah, but that won't last for ever. I'm got an old woman, and I can't do with the dairy nor the poultry as I was used to do. And things have not the same prices to them as 'twas a few years gone by. And last year's season was the worst that I remember.
WILLIAM.
So 'twas. But so long as there's a roof over our heads and a loaf of bread and a bit of garden for me to work on, where's the harm, Mother?
MRS. GARDNER.
O you put me out of all patience, William. Where's the rent to come from if we go on like this? And the clothing, and the food? And John's wages, and your flower seeds, if it comes to that, for you have got terrible wasteful over the flowers.
WILLIAM.
I wish you'd take it quieter, Mother. Look at you bed of musk, 'tis a grand smell that comes up from it all around.
MRS. GARDNER.
No, William. I've no eye for musk, nor nose to smell at it either till you've spoken the word that I require.
WILLIAM.
Best let things bide as they are, Mother.
MRS. GARDNER.
I'll leave you no rest till you do as I wish, William. I'm got an old woman, and 'tis hard I should be denied in aught that I've set my heart upon.
WILLIAM.
Please to set it upon something different, Mother, for I'm not a marrying man, and John he'll tell you the same thing.
MRS. GARDNER.
John! I'm sick of the very name of him. I can't think how 'tis that you can lower yourself by being so close with a common farm hand, William.
WILLIAM.
Ah, 'twould be a rare hard matter to find the equal to John, Mother. 'Tis of gold all through, and every bit of him, that he is made. You don't see many like John these days, that's the truth.
MRS. GARDNER.
Well, then, John, won't be here much longer, for we shan't have anything to give him if things go on like this.
WILLIAM.
I'd wed forty wives sooner than lose John--and that I would.
MRS. GARDNER.
I'm not asking you to wed forty. 'Tis only one.
WILLIAM.
And that one?
MRS. GARDNER.
The young person who's got Luther's farm. Her name is Julia.
WILLIAM.
[Leaving his flower border and walking up and down thoughtfully.]
Would she be the one with the cherry colour ribbons to her gown?
MRS. GARDNER.
I'm sure I don't know. I was not at church last Sunday.
WILLIAM.
Or t'other one in green?
MRS. GARDNER.
You appear to have used your eyes pretty well, William.
WILLIAM.
O, I can see a smartish bit about me when I choose.
MRS. GARDNER.
T'other wench is but the housekeeper.
WILLIAM.
Where did you get that from?
MRS. GARDNER.
'Twas Susan who told me. She got it off someone down in the village.
WILLIAM.
Well, which of the maids would have had the cherry-coloured ribbons to her, Mother?
MRS. GARDNER.
I'm sure I don't know, but if you go up there courting this afternoon, may happen that you'll find out.
WILLIAM.
This afternoon? O, that's much too sudden like.
MRS. GARDNER.
Not a bit of it. Recollect, your fancy has been set on her since Sunday.
WILLIAM.
Come, Mother, you can't expect a man to jump into the river all of a sudden like this.
MRS. GARDNER.
I expect you to go up there this very day and to commence telling her of your feelings.
WILLIAM.
But I've got no feelings that I can tell her of, Mother.
MRS. GARDNER.
Then you'll please to find some, William.
WILLIAM.
'Tis a thing that in all my life I've never done as to go visiting of a strange wench of an afternoon.
MRS. GARDNER.
Then 'tis time you did begin.
WILLIAM.
And what's more, I'll not do it, neither.
MRS. GARDNER.
Then I must tell John that we have no further need of his services, for where the money to pay him is to come from, I don't know.
[She rolls up her knitting and rises.]
WILLIAM.
Stop a moment, Mother--stop a moment. Maybe 'twon't be so bad when I've got more used to the idea. You've pitched it upon me so sudden like.
MRS. GARDNER.
Rent day has pitched upon me more sudden, William.
WILLIAM.
Look you, Mother, I'll get and turn it about in my mind a bit. And, maybe, I'll talk it over with John. I can't do more, can I now?
MRS. GARDNER.
Talk it over with whom you please, William. But remember 'tis this very afternoon that you have to start courting. I've laid your best clothes out all ready on your bed.
WILLIAM.
[Sighing heavily.]
O then I count there's no way out of it. But how am I to bring it off? 'Tis that I'd like to know.
MRS. GARDNER.
Maybe your man will be able to give you some suitable advice. Such things are beyond me, I'm afraid.
[She gathers up her work things, and with a contemptuous look at her son, she goes slowly out of the garden.]
[WILLIAM remains on the path lost in perturbed thought. Suddenly he goes to the gate and calls loudly.]
WILLIAM.
John, John!
JOHN.
[From afar.]
Yes, master.
WILLIAM.
[Calling.]
Come you here, John, as quick as you can run.
JOHN.
That I will, master.
[JOHN hurries into the garden.]
WILLIAM.
John, I'm powerful upset.
JOHN.
Mistress's fowls bain't got among the flowers again, be they, Master William?
WILLIAM.
No, no, John. 'Tisn't so bad as that. But I'm in a smartish fix, I can tell you.
JOHN.
How's that, master?
WILLIAM.
John, did you ever go a'courting?
JOHN.
Well, master, that's a thing to ask a man!
WILLIAM.
'Tis a terrible serious matter, John. Did you ever go?
JOHN.
Courting?
WILLIAM.
Yes.
JOHN.
Why, I count as I have went a score of times, master.
WILLIAM.
A score of times, John! But that was before you were got to the age you are now?
JOHN.
Before that, and now, master.
WILLIAM.
And now, John?
JOHN.
To be sure, master.
WILLIAM.
Then you know how 'tis done?
JOHN.
Ah, that I does, master.
WILLIAM.
Well, John, you're the man for me.
JOHN.
Lord bless us, master, but what have you to do with courting?
WILLIAM.
You may well ask me, John. Why, look you here--until this very morning, you would say I was a quiet and a peaceable man, with the right place for everything and everything in its place.
JOHN.
Ah, and that you was, Master William. And a time for all things too, and a decenter, proper gentleman no man ever served-- that's truth.
WILLIAM.
Ah, John--the mistress has set her will to change all this.
JOHN.
Now, you'd knock me down with a feather.
WILLIAM.
That she has, John. I've got to set out courting--a thing I've never thought to do in all my living days.
JOHN.
That I'll be bound you have not, Master William, though a finer gentleman than yourself is not to be found in all the country side.
WILLIAM.
[With shy eagerness.]
Is that how I appear to you, John?
JOHN.
Ah, and that you does, master. And 'tis the wonder with all for miles around as how you've been and kept yourself to yourself like this, so many years.
WILLIAM.
Well, John, it appears that I'm to pass out of my own keeping. My Sunday clothes are all laid out upon the bed.
JOHN.
Bless my soul, Master William, and 'tis but Thursday too.
WILLIAM.
Isn't that a proper day for this sort of business, John?
JOHN.
I've always been used to Saturday myself, but with a gentleman 'tis different like.
WILLIAM.
Well, John, there's nothing in this day or that as far as I can see. A bad job is a bad job, no matter what, and the day of it does make but very little difference.
JOHN.
You're right there, master. But if I may be so bold, where is it as you be going off courting this afternoon?
WILLIAM.
Ah--now you and me will have a straight talk one with another--for 'tis to you I look, John, for to pull me out of this fix where the mistress has gone and put me.
JOHN.
And that I'll do, master--with all the will in the world.
WILLIAM.
Well then, John, 'tis to be one of those maids from strange parts who are come to live at old Luther's, up yonder.
JOHN.
Ah, I seed the pair of them in church last Sunday. Fine maids, the both of them, and properly suitable if you was to ask me.
WILLIAM.
'Tis only the one I've got to court, John.
JOHN.
And I reckon that's one too many, Master William.
WILLIAM.
You're right there, John. 'Tis Mistress Julia I've to go at.
JOHN.
And which of the pair would that be, Master William?
WILLIAM.
That one with the cherry colour ribbons to her gown, I believe.
JOHN.
Ah, t'other was plainer in her dressing, and did keep the head of her bent smartish low on her book, so that a man couldn't get a fair look upon she.
WILLIAM.
That would be the housekeeper or summat. 'Tis Julia, who has the old man's money, I'm to court.
JOHN.
Well, master, I'll come along with you a bit of the road, to keep your heart up like.
WILLIAM.
You must do more than that for me, John. You've got to learn me how the courting is done before I set off.
JOHN.
Why, master, courting baint a thing what wants much learning, that's the truth.
WILLIAM.
'Tis all new to me, John. I'm blessed if I know how to commence. Why, the thought of it at once sends me hot all over; and then as cold again.
JOHN.
You start and get your clothes on, master. 'Tis half the battle--clothes. What a man cannot bring out of his mouth of a Saturday will fall out easy as anything on the Sunday with his best coat to his back.
WILLIAM.
No, John. The clothes won't help me in this fix. You must tell me how to start once I get to the farm and am by the door.
JOHN.
You might take a nosegay with you, master.
WILLIAM.
I might. And yet, 'tis a pity to cut the blooms for naught.
JOHN.
I always takes a nosegay with me, of a Saturday night.
WILLIAM.
Why, John, who is it that you are courting then?
JOHN.
'Tis that wench Susan, since you ask me, master. But not a word of it to th' old mistress.
WILLIAM.
I'll not mention it, John.
JOHN.
Thank you kindly, master.
WILLIAM.
And now, John, when the nosegay's all gathered and the flowers bunched, what else should I do?
JOHN.
Well, then you gives it her when you gets to the door. And very like she'll ask you into the parlour, seeing as you be a particular fine looking gentleman.
WILLIAM.
I could not stand that, John. I've no tongue to me within a strange house.
JOHN.
Well then, maybe as you and she will sit aside of one another in an arbour in the garden, or sommat of the sort.
WILLIAM.
Yes, John. And what next?
JOHN.
I'm blessed if I do know, master. You go along and commence.
WILLIAM.
No, John, and that I won't. Not till I know more about it like.
JOHN.
Well, master, I'm fairly puzzled hard to tell you.
WILLIAM.
I have the very thought, John. Do you bring Susan out here. I'll place myself behind the shrubs, and do you get and court her as well as you know how; and maybe that will learn me something.
JOHN.
Susan's a terrible hard wench to court, Master William.
WILLIAM.
'Twill make the better lesson, John.
JOHN.
'Tis a stone in place of a heart what Susan's got.
WILLIAM.
'Twill very likely be the same with Julia. Go and bring her quickly, John.
[WILLIAM places himself behind the arbour.]
JOHN.
As you will, master--but Susan have been wonderful nasty in her ways with me of late. 'Tis my belief as she have took up with one of they low gipsy lads what have been tenting up yonder, against the wood.
WILLIAM.
Well, 'twill be your business to win her back to you, John. See--am I properly hid, behind the arbour?
JOHN.
Grandly hid, master--I'll go and fetch the wench.
[JOHN leaves the garden.]
[WILLIAM remains hidden behind the arbour. After a few minutes JOHN returns pulling SUSAN by the hand.]
SUSAN. And what are you about, bringing me into master's flower garden at this time of the morning? I should like for mistress to look out of one of the windows--you'd get into fine trouble, and me too, John.
JOHN.
Susan, my dear, you be a passing fine wench to look upon, and that's the truth.
SUSAN.
And is it to tell me such foolishness that you've brought me all the way out of the kitchen?
JOHN.
[Stooping and picking a dandelion.]
And to give you this flower, dear Susan.
SUSAN.
[Throwing it down.]
A common thing like that! I'll have none of it.
JOHN.
'Tis prime you looks when you be angered, Susan. The blue fire do fairly leap from your eyes.
SUSAN.
O you're enough to anger a saint, John. What have you brought me here for?
JOHN.
I thought I'd like to tell you as you was such a fine wench, Susan. And that I did never see a finer.
SUSAN.
You do look at me as though I was yonder prize heifer what Master William's so powerful set on.
JOHN.
Ah--and 'tis true as you have sommat of the look of she when you stands a pawing of the ground as you be now.
SUSAN.
Is it to insult me that you've got me away from the kitchen, John?
JOHN.
Nay--'tis to tell you that you be a rare smartish wench--and I'll go along to the church with you any day as you will name, my dear.
SUSAN.
That you won't, John. I don't mind taking a nosegay of flowers from you now and then, and hearing you speak nice to me over the garden gate of an evening, but I'm not a-going any further along the road with you. That's all. [She moves towards the house.
JOHN.
Now, do you bide a moment longer, Susan--and let me say sommat of all they feelings which be stirring like a nest of young birds in my heart for you.
SUSAN.
They may stir within you like an old waspes' nest for all I care, John.
JOHN.
Come, Susan, put better words to your tongue nor they. You can speak honey sweet when it do please you to.
SUSAN.
'Tis mustard as is the right food for you this morning, John.
JOHN.
I gets enough of that from mistress--I mean--well--I mean--[in a loud, clear voice] --O mistress is a wonderful fine woman and no mistake.
SUSAN.
You won't say as much when she comes round the corner and catches you a wasting of your time like this, John.
JOHN.
Is it a waste of time to stand a-drinking in the sweetness of the finest rose what blooms, Susan?
SUSAN.
Is that me, John?
JOHN.
Who else should it be, Susan?
SUSAN.
Well, John--sometimes I think there's not much amiss with you.
JOHN.
O Susan, them be grand words.
SUSAN.
But then again--I do think as you be getting too much like Master William.
JOHN.
And a grander gentleman than he never went upon the earth.
SUSAN.
Cut and clipped and trimmed and dry as that box tree yonder. And you be getting sommat of the same fashion about you, John.
JOHN.
Then make me differenter, Susan, you know the way.
SUSAN.
I'm not so sure as I do, John.
JOHN.
Wed me come Michaelmas, Susan.
SUSAN.
And that I'll not. And what's more, I'm not a-going to stop here talking foolish with you any longer. I've work to do within.
[SUSAN goes off.]
[JOHN, mopping his face and speaking regretfully as WILLIAM steps from behind the arbour.]
JOHN.
There, master. That's courting for you. That's the sort of thing. And a caddling thing it is too.
WILLIAM.
But 'tis a thing that you do rare finely and well, John. And 'tis you and none other who shall do the job for me this afternoon, there--that's what I've come to in my thoughts.
JOHN.
Master, master, whatever have you got in your head now?
WILLIAM.
See here, John--we'll cut a nosegay for you to carry--some of the best blooms I'll spare. And you, who know what courting is, and who have such fine words to your tongue, shall step up at once and do the business for me.
JOHN.
Master, if 'twas an acre of stone as you'd asked me to plough, I'd sooner do it nor a job like this.
WILLIAM.
John, you've been a good friend to me all the years that you have lived on the farm, you'll not go and fail me now.
JOHN.
Why not court the lady with your own tongue, Master William? 'Twould have better language to it nor what I can give the likes of she.
WILLIAM.
Your words are all right, John. 'Tisn't as though sensible speech was needed. You do know what's wanted with the maids, whilst I have never been used to them in any way whatever. So let's say no more about it, but commence gathering the flowers.
JOHN.
[Heavily, but resigned.]
Since you say so, master.
[They begin to gather flowers.]
WILLIAM.
What blooms do young maids like the best, John?
JOHN.
Put in a sprig of thyme, master.
WILLIAM.
Yes--I can well spare that.
JOHN.
And a rose that's half opened, master.
WILLIAM.
It goes to my heart to have a rose wasted on this business, John.
JOHN.
'Tain't likely as you can get through courtship without parting with sommat, master. Lucky if it baint gold as you're called upon to spill.
WILLIAM.
That's true, John--I'll gather the rose -
JOHN.
See here, master, the lily and the pink. Them be brave flowers, the both of them, and with a terrible fine scent coming out of they.
WILLIAM.
Put them into the nosegay, John--And now--no more--'Tis enough waste for one day.
JOHN.
'Tis a smartish lot of blooms as good as done for, says I.
WILLIAM.
A slow sowing and a quick reaping, John.
JOHN.
'Tis to be hoped as 'twill be the same with the lady, master.
WILLIAM.
There, off you go, John. And mind, 'tis her with the cherry ribbon to her gown and bonnet.
JOHN.
Why, master, and her might have a different ribbon to her head this day, being that 'tis Thursday?
WILLIAM.
An eye like--like a bullace, John. And a grand colour to the face of her like yon rose.
JOHN.
That's enough, Master William. I'll not pitch upon the wrong maid, never fear. And now I'll clean myself up a bit at the pump, and set off straight away.
WILLIAM.
[Shaking JOHN's hand.]
Good luck to you, my man. And if you can bring it off quiet and decent like without me coming in till at the last, why, 'tis a five pound note that you shall have for your trouble.
JOHN.
You be a grand gentleman to serve, Master William, and no mistake about that.
[Curtain.] _
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