JOHN. Master, if ’twas an acre of stone as you’d asked me to plough, I’d sooner do it nor a job like this. WILLIAM. John, you’ve been a good friend to me all the years that you have lived on the farm, you’ll not go and fail me now. JOHN. Why not court the lady with your own tongue, Master William? ’Twould have better language to it nor what I can give the likes of she. WILLIAM. Your words are all right, John. ’Tisn’t as though sensible speech was needed. You do know what’s wanted with the maids, whilst I have never been used to them in any way whatever. So let’s say no more about it, but commence gathering the flowers. JOHN. [_Heavily_, _but resigned_.] Since you say so, master. [_They begin to gather flowers_. WILLIAM. What blooms do young maids like the best, John? JOHN. Put in a sprig of thyme, master. WILLIAM. Yes—I can well spare that. JOHN. And a rose that’s half opened, master. WILLIAM. It goes to my heart to have a rose wasted on this business, John. JOHN. ’Tain’t likely as you can get through courtship without parting with sommat, master. Lucky if it baint gold as you’re called upon to spill. WILLIAM. That’s true, John—I’ll gather the rose— JOHN. See here, master, the lily and the pink. Them be brave flowers, the both of them, and with a terrible fine scent coming out of they. WILLIAM. Put them into the nosegay, John—And now—no more—’Tis enough waste for one day. JOHN. ’Tis a smartish lot of blooms as good as done for, says I. WILLIAM. A slow sowing and a quick reaping, John. JOHN. ’Tis to be hoped as ’twill be the same with the lady, master. WILLIAM. There, off you go, John. And mind, ’tis her with the cherry ribbon to her gown and bonnet. JOHN. Why, master, and her might have a different ribbon to her head this day, being that ’tis Thursday? WILLIAM. An eye like—like a bullace, John. And a grand colour to the face of her like yon rose. JOHN. That’s enough, Master William. I’ll not pitch upon the wrong maid, never fear. And now I’ll clean myself up a bit at the pump, and set off straight away. WILLIAM. [_Shaking_ JOHN’S _hand_.] Good luck to you, my man. And if you can bring it off quiet and decent like without me coming in till at the last, why, ’tis a five pound note that you shall have for your trouble. JOHN. You be a grand gentleman to serve, Master William, and no mistake about that. [_Curtain_.] ACT II.—Scene 1. _A wood_. _To the right a fallen tree_ (_or a bench_). JOHN _comes from the left_, _a large bunch of flowers in his hand_.