Part 15 (1/2)

LARRY. Aye, 'twas because of your old sick mother. And how does the good lady? [_KATE weeps._] Ah! well, Heaven rest her soul.--Cheerly, cheerly.

To be sure, I can't give _you_ a mother; but I tell you what I'll do, I'll give your children one; and that's the same thing, you know. So, kiss me, Kate. Cheerly.

KATE. One day, as I sat desolate in my cottage, a carriage broke down near it, from which a young lady was thrown with great violence. My humble cabin received her, and I attended her till she was able to resume her journey.

LARRY. My kind Kate!

KATE. The sweet young lady promised me her protection, and pressed me to go with her. So, having no mother--nor Larry to take care of----

LARRY. You let the pigs and praties take care of themselves.

KATE. I placed an honest, poor neighbour in my cottage, and followed the fortunes of my mistress--and--O Larry, such an angel!

LARRY. But where is she?

KATE. Here, in Virginia.

LARRY. Here?

KATE. Aye, but that's a secret.

LARRY. Oh! is it so? that's the reason then you won't tell it me.

_GERALDINE, as a page, and WALTER appear behind._

KATE. That's she.

LARRY. Where?

KATE. There.

LARRY. Bother! I see no one but a silken cloaked spark, and our Wat; devil a petticoat!

KATE. That spark is my mistress.

LARRY. Be asy. Are you sure you ar'n't his mistress?

KATE. Tut, now you've got the twin potatoes in your head.

LARRY. Twins they must be, if any, for faith I hav'n't had a _single_ potato in my head this many a long day. But come, my Kate, tell me how you and your mistress happened to jump into--

KATE. Step aside then.

LARRY. Have with you, my dapper page. [_They retire._

_GERALDINE and WALTER advance._

GERALDINE. You know this Percy, then?

WALTER. Know him! Oh, yes!

He makes this wild wood, here, a past'ral grove.

He is a love-lorn shepherd; an Orlando, Carving love-rhymes and ciphers on the trees, And warbling dying ditties of a lady He calls false Geraldine.

GERALDINE. O my dear Percy!