_Ash._ d.i.c.kens and daizeys! what a gentleman you wou'd be to shew at a vair!

_Sir Abel._ Silence fellow, and attend--"An account of the castle and domain of Sir Philip Blandford, intended to be settled as a marriage portion on his daughter, and the son of Sir Abel Handy,--by Frank Flourish, surveyor.--Imprimis--The premises command an exquisite view of the Isle of Wight."--Charming! delightful! I don't see it though [_Rising._]--I'll try with my new gla.s.s--my own invention--[_He looks through the gla.s.s._] Yes, there I caught it--Ah! now I see it plainly--Eh! no--I don't see it, do you?

_Ash._ Noa, zur, I doant--but little zweepy do tell I he can zee a bit out from the top of the chimbley--zoa, an you've a mind to crawl up you may zee un too, he, he!

_Sir Abel._ Thank you--but d.a.m.n your t.i.tter. [_Reads._]--"Fish ponds well stocked"--That's a good thing, Farmer.

_Ash._ Likely, likely--but I doant think the vishes do thrive much in theas ponds.

_Sir Abel._ No! why?

_Ash._ Why, the ponds be always dry i'the zummer; and I be tould that bean't wholesome vor the little vishes.

_Sir Abel._ Not very, I believe--Well said surveyor! "A cool summer house."

_Ash._ Ees, zur, quite cool--by reason the roof be tumbled in.

_Sir Abel._ Better and better--"the whole capable of the greatest improvement."--Come, that seems true however--I shall have plenty to do, that's one comfort--I have such contrivances! I'll have a ca.n.a.l run through my kitchen.--I must give this rustic some idea of my consequence. [_Aside._] You must know, Farmer, you have the honour of conversing with a man, who has obtained patents for tweezers, tooth-picks, and tinder boxes--to a philosopher, who has been consulted on the Wapping docks and the Gravesend tunnel; and who has now in hand two inventions which will render him immortal--the one is, converting saw dust into deal boards, and the other is, a plan of cleaning rooms by a steam engine--and, Farmer, I mean to give prizes for industry--I'll have a ploughing match.

_Ash._ Will you, zur?

_Sir Abel._ Yes; for I consider a healthy young man, between the handles of a plough, as one of the n.o.blest ill.u.s.trations of the prosperity of Britain.

_Ash._ Faith and troth! there be some tightish hands in theas parts, I promize ye.

_Sir Abel._ And, Farmer, it shall precede the hymeneal festivities--

_Ash._ Nan!

_Sir Abel._ Blockhead! The ploughing match shall take place as soon as Sir Philip Blandford and his daughter arrive.

_Ash._ Oh, likely, likely.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Serv._ Sir Abel, I beg to say, my master will be here immediately.

_Sir Abel._ And, sir, I beg to ask who possesses the happiness of being your master?

_Serv._ Your son, sir, Mr. Robert Handy.

_Sir Abel._ Indeed! and where is Bob?

_Serv._ I left him, sir, in the belfrey of the church.

_Sir Abel._ Where?

_Serv._ In the belfrey of the church.

_Sir Abel._ In the belfrey of the church! What was he doing there?

_Serv._ Why, Sir, the _natives_ were ringing a peal in honour of our arrival--when my master finding they knew nothing of the matter, went up to the steeple to instruct them, and ordered me to proceed to the Castle--Give me leave, Sir Abel, to take this out of your way. [_Takes the camp chair._] Sir, I have the honour-- [_Bows and Exit._

_Sir Abel._ Wonderful! My Bob, you must know, is an astonishing fellow!--you have heard of the _admirable Crichton_, may be? Bob's of the same kidney! I contrive, he executes--Sir Abel _invenit_, Bob _fecit_. He can do everything--everything!

_Ash._ All the better vor he. I zay, zur, as he can turn his head to everything, pray, in what way med he earn his livelihood?

_Sir Abel._ Earn his livelihood!

_Ash._ Ees, zur;--How do he gain his bread!

_Sir Abel._ Bread! Oh, he can't earn his bread, bless you! he's a genius.

_Ash._ Genius! Drabbit it, I have got a horze o' thic name, but dom' un, he'll never work--never.

_Sir Abel._ Egad; here comes my boy Bob!--Eh! no--it is not! no.

_Enter_ POSTBOY, _with a round hat and cane._

Why, who the devil are you?

_Postb._ I am the postboy, your honour, but the gem'man said I did not know how to drive, so he mounted my horse, and made me get inside--Here he is.

_Enter_ HANDY, jun. _with a postboy's cap and whip._

_Handy, jun._ Ah, my old Dad, is that you?

_Sir Abel._ Certainly! the only doubt is, if that be you?

_Handy, jun._ Oh, I was teaching this fellow to drive--Nothing is so horrible as people pretending to do what they are unequal to--Give me my hat--That's the way to use a whip.

_Postb._ Sir, you know you have broke the horses' knees all to pieces.

_Handy, jun._ Hush, there's a guinea. [_Apart._

_Sir Abel._ [_To_ ASHFIELD.] You see, Bob can do everything. But, sir, when you knew I had arrived from Germany, why did you not pay your duty to me in London?

_Handy, jun._ Sir, I heard you were but four days married, and I would not interrupt your honeymoon.

_Sir Abel._ Four days! oh, you might have come. [_Sighing._

_Handy, jun._ I hear you have taken to your arms a simple rustic, unsophisticated by fashionable follies--a full blown blossom of nature.

_Sir Abel._ Yes!

_Handy, jun._ How does it answer?

_Sir Abel._ So, so!