the saucy toss of his head: before that rogue went on the
campaign, he certainly extorted some awkward kind of promises from me.
As a woman of honour, I'm afraid it must be kept; I don't want a
husband--oh! no, positively--to be sure, winter is coming on, my chamber
faces the north, and when the nights are long, and dark, and cold, when
the wind blusters, and the hail patters at the casement, then a solitary
woman is apt to have strange fancies, and sometimes to wish that--well,
well, my promise must be kept at all events.

SONG.--_Rosabelle._

Oh! come away! my soldier boy,
From war to peace incline thee;
Thy laurel, Time shall ne'er destroy.
But Love with roses twine thee.
Come, come away,
Love chides thy stay,
Oh! prithee come my soldier!

Let fife and drum preserve their place,
While softer sounds delight thee;
The fiddle shall our wedding grace,
But _horns_ shall never fright thee.
Come, come away,
Love chides thy stay,
Oh! prithee come my soldier!

[Exit.

SCENE II.--_A saloon: a large window is open and discovers the
gardens: the noise of song and dance is heard immediately below the
window._

CHORUS.

Sing farewell labour,
Blow pipe and beat tabor,
Fly care far away;
In light band advancing,
Let music and dancing
Proclaim holyday.

_De Valmont_ opens the door of an inner chamber, and crosses the
stage with a quick petulant step, to ring a bell in the saloon:
no answer is immediately given, and he repeats the ring with
increased fretfulness.

Enter _Gaspard_.

_De Val._ So! am I heard! old man! to what strange dwelling have I been
borne while sleeping? and who is your new master?

_Gas._ Alack! your lordship is in your own fair castle, nor other master
than yourself do I, or any of my fellows serve--a kind and noble master.

_De Val._ You tell me wonders; I thought the master in his house had
borne command among his people, but here it seems, each groom is more
absolute in his humours than the lord; how is't? do I clothe and feed a
pampered herd, but to increase my torments? when I would muse in
privacy, must I be baited still, and stunned with crowds and clamours?
knave! drive the rabble from my gate, and rid my ears of discord.

_Gas._ Well-a-day! who could have foreseen this anger? my good lord 'tis
but your tenantry rejoicing: this morning, I distributed your lordship's
bount