Becket And Other Plays Part 63

WILSON.

Good day, sir.

(DOBSON _looks hard at_ EDGAR.)

EDGAR. (_To_ DOBSON.) Have I the pleasure, friend, of knowing you?

DOBSON.

Dobson.

EDGAR.

Good day, then, Dobson. [_Exit_.

DOBSON.

'Good daay then, Dobson!' Civil-spoken i'deed! Why, Wilson, tha 'eard 'im thysen--the feller couldn't find a Mister in his mouth fur me, as farms five hoonderd haacre.

WILSON.

You never find one for me, Mr. Dobson.

DOBSON.

Noa, fur thou be n.o.bbut schoolmaster; but I taakes 'im fur a Lunnun swindler, and a burn fool.

WILSON.

He can hardly be both, and he pays me regular every Sat.u.r.day.

DOBSON.

Yeas; but I haates 'im.

_Enter_ STEER, FARM MEN _and_ WOMEN.

STEER. (_Goes and sits under apple tree_.) Hev' ony o' ye seen Eva?

DOBSON.

Noa, Mr. Steer.

STEER.

Well, I reckons they'll hev' a fine cider-crop to-year if the blossom 'owds. Good murnin', neighbours, and the saame to you, my men. I taakes it kindly of all o' you that you be coomed--what's the newspaaper word, Wilson?--celebrate--to celebrate my birthdaay i' this fashion. Niver man 'ed better friends, and I will saay niver master 'ed better men: fur thaw I may ha' fallen out wi' ye sometimes, the fault, mebbe, wur as much mine as yours; and, thaw I says it mysen, niver men 'ed a better master--and I knaws what men be, and what masters be, fur I wur n.o.bbut a laabourer, and now I be a landlord-- burn a plowman, and now, as far as money goas, I be a gentleman, thaw I beant naw scholard, fur I 'ednt naw time to maake mysen a scholard while I wur maakin' mysen a gentleman, but I ha taaen good care to turn out boath my darters right down fine laadies.

DOBSON.

An' soa they be.

1ST FARMING MAN.

Soa they be! soa they be!

2ND FARMING MAN.

The Lord bless boath on 'em!

3RD FARMING MAN.

An' the saame to you, Master.

4TH FARMING MAN.

And long life to boath on 'em. An' the saame to you, Master Steer, likewise.

STEER.

Thank ye!

_Enter_ EVA.

Wheer 'asta been?

EVA. (_Timidly_.) Many happy returns of the day, father.

STEER.

They can't be many, my dear, but I 'oapes they'll be 'appy.

DOBSON.

Why, tha looks haale anew to last to a hoonderd.

STEER.

An' why shouldn't I last to a hoonderd? Haale! why shouldn't I be haale? fur thaw I be heighty this very daay, I niver 'es sa much as one pin's p.r.i.c.k of paain; an' I can taake my gla.s.s along wi' the youngest, fur I niver touched a drop of owt till my oan wedding-daay, an' then I wur turned huppads o' sixty. Why shouldn't I be haale? I ha' plowed the ten-aacre--it be mine now--afoor ony o' ye wur burn--ye all knaws the ten-aacre--I mun ha' plowed it moor nor a hoonderd times; hallus hup at sunrise, and I'd drive the plow straait as a line right i' the faace o' the sun, then back agean, a-follering my oan shadder--then hup agean i' the faace o' the sun. Eh! how the sun 'ud shine, and the larks 'ud sing i' them daays, and the smell o' the mou'd an' all. Eh! if I could ha' gone on wi' the plowin' n.o.bbut the smell o' the mou'd 'ud ha' maade ma live as long as Jerusalem.

EVA.

Methusaleh, father.

STEER.

Ay, la.s.s, but when thou be as owd as me thou'll put one word fur another as I does.

DOBSON.

But, Steer, thaw thou be haale anew I seed tha a-limpin' up just now wi' the roomatics i' the knee.

STEER.

Roomatics! Noa; I laame't my knee last night running arter a thief.

Beant there house-breakers down i' Littlechester, Dobson--doant ye hear of ony?

DOBSON.

Ay, that there be. Immanuel Goldsmiths was broke into o' Monday night, and ower a hoonderd pounds worth o' rings stolen.

STEER.

So I thowt, and I heard the winder--that's the winder at the end o'

the pa.s.sage, that goas by thy chaumber. (_Turning to_ EVA.) Why, la.s.s, what maaakes tha sa red? Did 'e git into thy chaumber?

EVA.

Father!

STEER.

Well, I runned arter thief i' the dark, and fell agean coalscuttle and my kneea gev waay or I'd ha' cotched 'im, but afoor I coomed up he got thruff the winder agean.

EVA.

Got thro' the window again?