[Scene: A public-house kitchen. HUFF the Farmer and SOLLERS the Wainwright talking; another man, a stranger, sitting silent.]
Huff:
Ay, you may think we"re well off--
Sollers:
Now for croaks, Old toad! who"s trodden on you now?--Go on; But if you can, croak us a new tune.
Huff:
Ay, You think you"re well off--and don"t grab my words Before they"re spoken--but some folks, I"ve heard, Pity us, living quiet in the valley.
Sollers:
Well, I suppose "tis their affair.
Huff:
Is it?
But what I mean to say,--if they think small Of us that live in the valley, mayn"t it show That we aren"t all so happy as we think?
[MERRICK the Smith comes in.]
Merrick:
Quick, cider! I believe I"ve swallowed a coal.
Sollers:
Good evening. True, the heat"s a wonder to-night.
[Smith draws himself cider.]
Huff:
Haven"t you brought your flute? We"ve all got room For music in our minds to-night, I"ll swear.
Working all day in the sun do seem to push The thought out of your brain.
Sollers:
O, "tis the sun Has trodden on you? That"s what makes you croak?
Ay, whistle him somewhat: put a tune in his brain; He"ll else croak us out of pleasure with drinking.
Merrick:
"Tis quenching, I believe.--A tune? Too hot.
You want a fiddler.
Huff:
Nay, I want your flute.
I like a piping sound, not sc.r.a.ping o" guts.
Merrick:
This is no weather for a man to play Flutes or music at all that asks him spend His breath and spittle: you want both yourself These oven days. Wait till a fiddler comes.
Huff:
Who ever comes down here?
Sollers:
There"s someone come.
[Pointing with his pipe to the stranger.]
Merrick:
Good evening, mister. Are you a man for tunes?
Stranger:
And if I was I"ld give you none to-night.
Merrick: