AN

EXMOOR COURTSHIP

BY JAN BRENDON

Scene: The Kitchen in the Old Farmhouse at Challacoomb-Tamsin's House.

A big low-raftered room with one small window ; bacon-vlitches and herbs hang on the rafters; over the clavvy-board hangs a gun; and a brass-kettle, two brass tops (of the old country tipstave pattern) without the sticks, two brass candlesticks, and two china-dogs fill up the board. A deep settle is at the fireside, set well into the open-hearth, over which a crock is hanging.

Characters.

ANDREW BAGWELL: a young Farmer.
TAMSIN.

GAMMER NELL: Gammer to Tamsin.

Andrew is standing by the settle, waiting, as the scene opens. To him, enter Tamsin, carrying in a

basket of potatoes.

Andrew: Well, Tamsin; glad you're comed in, for es have a queston to put ta thee.

Tamsin: What quesson was et? But wait vurst, till 'es get thee a pitcher o' zyder and a crust o' bread-an'-cheeze!

Andrew: No, es thankee kindly, Tamsin! For es ate a crumb as es came up-along by Blake Moor. Tamsin: Well, Andrer, zit ee down, zo as es scraäp the taters for denner.

Andrew: No, no! Hear ma vurst, Tamsie. Thar's questons wonnot wait on an onser.

Tamsin (rubbing her hands on her apron): What quesson was et? Ees don't know what quesson ee mean!

Ees

And

Andrew: Why, to tell tha flat and plain like, 'twas this, "Woult ha ma, lass, ay or no?" Tamsin: What, marry to eart one? 1 wouldn't marry the best man in old England. 'Tis the zame answer ees gie'd thee avore. more than that, Andra,-aa'm told tha keeps company with Margery Hosegood, that thonging chockling maid, that gurt fustilug.2 Her's a prating piece. If you keep her company, ees will ha' no more to zay to tha.

Andrew: Ha,-this is Jo's scandalous flim-flam. He would do me an ill turn, and ha' thee to himzelf, he would.

Tamsin No! 'tes none of Jo's telling; but 'tis the cry of the country, zo 'tis.

Andrew: Ah bet 'twas Jo's tale. He would lee a rope upreert. He wou'd tell dildrams upon any Chresson zoul, zo he would! If I come athwart en, chell3 gi' en a lick,-chell plim en, thrash en, tan en. (He breaks into a great passion, doubles his fists, and roars out his words in blind fury.) Ay, chell gi' en one in the chaps; chell curry his coat vor en; chell gie en such a zwipe athirt hes ugly veäce; chell gie en a whapper, and a wherret, and a whisterpoop. Chell baste en to the bone!

Tamsin Hearky a bit, Andra. Why be in such a burstin' fume? Es afraid tha would treat 2 Great bag of bones. 3 I shall.

1

Any one.

oi the zame es that, once we was married. As men is avore, so men is after tha's married, aaʼm told!

Andrew (making a great effort to recover himself, his chest heaving, as he mops his forehead): If that is how tha feels, Tamsin, 'tes good-bye to tha, zo 'tes.

Tamsin: Nay, hearky now, Andra! why sitch a hurry on tha? Tak a zup o' zyder avore tha goes to cool tha! (Proffers the mug.) Andrew: Es won't drenk neither, except yus vurst kiss and make friends.

Tamsin Hush, lad! Here comes Gammer Nell! (She passes lightly within reach,—he gets in a kiss before Gammer Nell enters.)

Andrew (with a smile broad as a barn-floor): Good den, good den, Gammer. How goeth et wi' ye?

-

Gammer Nell: Why vaith, Andra! — had a crick in ma back, last night; but tha hes a zmile on tha would cure any crick. What makes tha zmile zo zleckie ?1 Hes et anything to do with Tamsie, dost tha thenk?

Tamsie: Have a told Andra es am afraid to marry en. But he has behave zo mild an' kind, as es am not so veared as avore!

Andrew: What dost tha zay, Gammer?

Gammer (pushing Tamsin over to him): Take tha baggage; and bless ye both. Her's a tyrant maid to work. Her will make thee a good besom vor tha hearth, Andra!

(Andrew takes Tamsin into his arms.) [CURTAIN. 1 slily?

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850)

It was a dreary morning when the wheels
Rolled over a wide plain o'erhung with clouds,
And nothing cheered our way till first we saw
The long-roofed chapel of King's College lift
Turrets and pinnacles in answering files,
Extended high above a dusky grove.

Advancing, we espied upon the road
A student clothed in gown and tasseled cap,
Striding along as if o'ertasked by Time,
Or covetous of exercise and air;

He passed, nor was I master of my eyes
Till he was left an arrow's flight behind.
As near and nearer to the spot we drew,
It seemed to suck us in with an eddy's force.
Onward we drove beneath the castle; caught,
While crossing Magdalene Bridge, a glimpse of

Cam;

And at the Hoop alighted, famous inn.

The Evangelist St. John my patron was: Three Gothic courts are his, and in the first Was my abiding-place, a nook obscure; Right underneath, the college kitchens made. A humming sound less tunable than bees, But hardly less industrious; with shrill notes Of sharp command and scolding intermixed.

Near me hung Trinity's loquacious clock,
Who never let the quarters, night or day,
Slip by him unproclaimed, and told the hours
Twice over with a male and female voice.
Her pealing organ was my neighbour too;
And from my pillow, looking forth by light
Of moon or favouring stars, I could behold
The antechapel where the statue stood
Of Newton, with his prism and silent face,
The marble index of a mind for ever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

All winter long, whenever free to choose,
Did I by night frequent the college groves
And tributary walks; the last, and oft
The only one, who had been lingering there
Through hours of silence, till the porter's bell,
A punctual follower on the stroke of nine,
Rang, with its blunt, unceremonious voice,
Inexorable summons! Lofty elms,
Inviting shades of opportune recess,
Bestowed composure on a neighbourhood
Unpeaceful in itself. A single tree,

With sinuous trunk, boughs exquisitely wreathed
Grew there; an ash which winter for himself
Decked as in pride, and with outlandish grace:
Up from the ground, and almost to the top,
The trunk and every master branch were green
With clustering ivy, and the lightsome twigs
And outer spray profusely tipped with seeds
That hung in yellow tassels, while the air
Stirred them, not voiceless. Often have I stood
Foot-bound, uplooking at this lovely tree