Squire:—"You shan't find me feeble, though I'm near sixty; I'm stronger still than many a man of twenty." Duffy:—"Your only son is now far away. If he came home and found ye wed, What think ye he would say?" Squire:—"I hope he is already dead, Or'll be kill'd in the wars some day, If alive he shan't enter my door, I'll give thee my land, with all my store, Thou shalt ride to church behind me upon a new pavillion, Smarter than Dame Pendar or Madam Trezillian." Duffy:—"Dear master, hold your flattering tongue, Nor think to deceive one so simple and young; For I'm a poor maid, lowly born and bred; With one so humble you could never wed. Keep your distance, and none of your hugging; You shall kiss me no more till you take me to church. I'll never cry at Christmas for April fooling Like a poor maid left in the lurch. Look! the sand is all down and the pie burned black, With the crust too hard for your colt's-teeth to crack: So off to the hall and take your supper." Duffy rises, takes up from the hearth a pie, which had been baking there, goes out with it, followed by the Squire and Devil dancing. Huey crawls from the oven, saying "Lack a day who can tell, now, what to make of a she-thing?" By the time he gets on his legs Duffy returns, and, assisted by the devil pushes him to doors, saying, "Now betake thyself outside the door, Nor show thy black face here any more; Don't think I would wed a poor piljack like thee, When I may have a Squire of high degree." Duffy and the Devil dance till the Squire returns and joins in a three-handed reel, without seeing the Old One, who capers back into a dark corner at the pass of the dance, and comes close behind him at the pitch. Curtain drops.—Thunder and lightning. [10] The scene changes to Trove Mill, where a long gossip takes place over the new "nine days' wonder" of Squire Lovell having wedded Duffy for the sake of her knitting. Some say she will behave like most beggars put on horseback, and all the women agreed that they would rather be a young man's slave, and work their fingers to stumps, than be doomed to pass a weary time beside such an old withered stock; they should wish him dead and no help for it. In the next, Duffy (now Madame Lovell) is beheld walking up and down her garden, or hall, decked out in a gown with a long train, hanging ruffles at her elbows, ruff of monstrous size round her neck, towering head-dress, high-heeled shoes, with bright buckles, earrings, necklace, fan, and all other accessories of old-fashioned finery. The bucca-boo is seen grinning, half-hidden, in the corner; whilst Madam walks she sings:— "Now I have servants to come at my call, As I walk in grand state through my hall, Decked in silks and satins so fine: But I grieve through the day, And fret the long night away, Thinking of my true-love, young Huey Lenine. I weep through many a weary long hour, As I sit all alone in my bower,