Keep back, Squire. Knew there’d be something wrong,—ready to come in at the nick of time,—capital custom.
FLAM enters and stands next the SQUIRE.
SQUIRE. Exposed, baited! Benson, are you mad? Within the last few hours my friend here has been attacked and insulted on the very land you hold, by a person in your employ and young Edmunds there. I, too, have been threatened and insulted in the presence of my tenantry and workmen. Take care you do not drive me to extremities. Remember—the lease of this farm for seventy years, which your father took of mine, expires to-morrow; and that I have the power to refuse its renewal. Again I ask you, are you mad?
BENSON. Quit my house, villain!
SQUIRE. Villain! quit my house, then. This farm is mine: and you and yours shall depart from under its roof, before the sun has set to-morrow. (BENSON sinks into a chair in centre, and covers his face with his hands.)
Sestet and Chorus.
LUCY—ROSE—EDMUNDS—SQUIRE NORTON—FLAM—
YOUNG BENSON—and Chorus.
YOUNG BENSON. Turn him from the farm! From his home will you cast
The old man who has till’d it for years?
Every tree, every flower, is link’d with the past,
And a friend of his childhood appears.
Turn him from the farm! O’er its grassy hill-side,
A gay boy he once loved to range;
His boyhood has fled, and its dear friends are dead,
But these meadows have never known change.
EDMUNDS. Oppressor, hear me.
LUCY. On my knees I implore
SQUIRE. I command it, and you will obey.
ROSE. Rise, dear Lucy, rise; you shall not kneel before
The tyrant who drives us away.
SQUIRE. Your sorrows are useless, your prayers are in vain;
I command it and you will begone.
I’ll hear no more.
EDMUNDS. No, they shall not beg again,
Of a man whom I view with deep scorn.
FLAM. Do not yield.
YOUNG BENSON /SQUIRE / LUCY / ROSE. Leave the farm!
EDMUNDS. Your power I despise.
SQUIRE. And your threats, boy, I disregard too.
FLAM. Do not yield.
YOUNG BENSON /SQUIRE / LUCY / ROSE. Leave the farm!
ROSE. If he leaves it, he dies.
EDMUNDS. This base act, proud man, you shall rue.
YOUNG BENSON. Turn him from the farm! From his home will you cast
The old man who has till’d it for years?
Every tree, every flower, is linked with the past,
And a friend of his childhood appears!
SQUIRE. Yes, yes, leave the farm! From his home I will cast,
The old man who has till’d it for years;
Though each tree and flower is link’d with the past,
And a friend of his childhood appears.
Chorus. He has turn’d from his farm, from his home he has cast
The old man who has till’d it for years;
Though each tree and flower is link’d with the past,
And a friend of his childhood appears.
END OF THE FIRST ACT
ACT II.
SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Hall. A breakfast-table, with urn and tea-service. A Livery Servant arranging it. FLAM in a morning gown and slippers, reclining on the sofa.
FLAM. Is the Squire out of bed yet?
SERVANT. Yes, sir, he will be down directly.
FLAM. Any letters from London?
SERVANT. One for your honour, that the man brought over from the market-town, this morning.
FLAM. Give it me, blockhead! (Servant gives it, and exit.) Never like the look of a great official-folded letter, with a large seal, it’s always an unpleasant one. Talk of discovering a man’s character from his handwriting!—I’ll back myself against any odds to form a very close guess at the contents of a letter from the form into which it is folded. This, now, I should say, is a decidedly hostile fold. Let us see—‘King’s Bench Walk—September 1st, 1729. Sir, I am instructed by my client, Mr. Edward Montague, to apply to you—(the old story—for the immediate payment, I suppose—what’s this?)—to apply to you for the instant restitution of the sum of two hundred and fifty pounds, his son lost to you at play; and to acquaint you, that unless it is immediately forwarded to my office, as above, the circumstances of the transaction will be made known; and the unfair and fraudulent means by which you deprived the young man of his money, publicly advertised.—I am, Sir, your obedient Servant, John Ellis.’ The devil! who would believe now, that such a trifling circumstance as the mere insinuation of a small piece of gold into the corner of two dice would influence a man’s destiny! What’s to be done?