A Grove near the Camp.
Enter NELL, speaking without.
WILLIAM! come speak to him another time, sure nothing could be more lucky; however, I must obey their ladyship’s instructions, and keep him in ignorance, that they may be present at the discovery. Poor fellow, its almost a pity too, when one has it in ones power to make him so happy.
Enter WILLIAM.
Will.
I am sorry Nell to make you wait, but it was an old friend.
Nell.
Aye, aye, some one from Suffolk I suppose, who has brought you news of your dear Nancy.
Will.
I wish it had; it’s unaccountable that I don’t hear from her.
Nell.
Unaccountable? not at all: I suppose she has changed her mind.
Will.
No Nelly, that’s impossible, and you would think so, had you heard how she plighted her faith to me, and vowed, notwithstanding her parents were my enemies, nothing but death should prevent our union.
Nell.
O, I beg your pardon; if her father and mother indeed are against you, you need not doubt her constancy. But come, dont be melancholy, I tell you I want to have you stay somewhere near the Inn, and perhaps I may bring you some intelligence of her.
Will.
How! dear Nell?
Nell.
Tho’ Indeed I think you are very foolish to plague yourself so, for even had Nancy loved you well enough to have carried your knapsack, you would have been very imprudent to have suffered her.
Will.
Aye, but prudence, you know, is not a soldiers virtue. Its our business to hold life itself cheap, much more the comforts of it. Shew me a young fellow in our regiment who, if he gains the heart of a worthy girl, and afraid to marry her for want of a little wealth, I would have him drummed out of the regiment for discretion.
Nell.
Very fine! but must not the poor girl share in all your fatigues and mishaps.
Will.
There Nell I own is the objection, but tenderness and affection may soften even these; yet if my Nancy ever makes the trial, though I may not be able to prevent her from undergoing hardships, I am sure my affection will make her wonder at their being called so; I wish I could once boast that the experiment was made.
AIR.
My Nancy quits the rural train
A camp’s distress to prove,
All other ills she can sustain,
But living from her love.
Yet, dearest, tho’ your Soldier’s there,
Would not your spirits fail,
To mark the hardships you must share,
Dear Nancy of the dale.
Or should you, love, each danger share,
Ah! how shall I secure,
Your health, ‘mid toils which you are born
To soothe, but not endure,
A thousand perils I must view,
A thousand ills assail,
Nor must I tremble e’en for you,
Dear Nancy of the dale.