Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/59

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It should not be a cold unsocial grandeur: That you would keep, the while, a merry house.

Or. O doubt it not! I'll gather round my board All that heav'n sends to me of way-worn folks, And noble travellers, and neighb'ring friends, Both young and old. Within my ample hall, The worn-out man of arms, (of whom too many, Nobly descended, rove like reckless vagrants From one proud chieftain's castle to another, Half chid, half honour'd,) shall o'tip-toe tread, Tossing his grey locks from his wrinkled brow With cheerful freedom, as he boasts his feats Of days gone by.—Music we'll have; and oft The bick'ring dance upon our oaken floors Shall, thund'ring loud, strike on the distant ear Of 'nighted trav'llers, who shall gladly bend Their doubtful footsteps tow'rds the cheering din. Solemn, and grave, and cloister'd, and demure We shall not be. Will this content ye, damsels?

Al. O passing well! 'twill be a pleasant life; Free from all stern subjection; blithe and fanciful; We'll do whate'er we list.

Cath. That right and prudent is, I hope thou meanest.

Al. Why ever so suspicious and so strict? How could'st thou think I had another meaning? (To Orra.) And shall we ramble in the woods full oft With hound and horn?—that is my dearest joy.