Skip to main content

Full text of "M.P., or, The blue-stocking: [a comic opera in three acts]"

See other formats




SB 33b 062 

" ^r 





First performed at the 


On MONDAY, S.ept. 9, ;e : U. 

The Mu*ic composed and selected by the Author of the Piece. The Overture 
and Arrangements for the Orchestra by Mr. HORN. 

The Lines distinguished by inverted Commas are omitted in the Representation. 

Hontion : 


Of whom may be had the Whole of the Music. 

Entered at Stationers' Hall. Price 2*. 6d. 


WHEN I gave this Piece to the Theatre, I had 
not the least intention of publishing it ; because, how- 
ever I may have hoped that it would be tolerated 
upon the stage, among those light summer produc- 
tions which are laughed at for a season and forgotten, 
I was conscious how ill such fugitive trifles can bear 
to be imbodied into a literary form by publication. 
Among the motives which have influenced me to 
alter this purpose, the strongest, perhaps, is the plea- 
sure I have felt in presenting the Copy-right of the 
Dialogue to Mr. POWER, as some little acknowledg- 
ment of the liberality which he has shown in the pur- 
chase of the Music. The Opera, altogether, has had 
a much better fate than I expected; and it would, 
perhaps, have been less successful in amusing the 
audience, if I had " songe serieusement a les fairc 
rire." But, that the humble opinion which I ex- 
press of its merits has not been adopted in complai- 
sance tc any of my critics, will appear by the follow- 

A 2 

M 5003 


ing extract from a letter which I addressed to the 
Licenser, for the purpose of prevailing upon him to 
restore certain passages, which he had thought pro- 
per to expunge as politically objectionable: u You 
" will perceive, Sir, by the true estimate which I 
" make of my own nonsense, that, if your cen- 
" sorship were directed against bad jokes, &c. 
" I should be much more ready to agree with 
" you than I am at present. Indeed, in that case, 
" the < una litura would "be sufficient." I cannot 
advert to my correspondence with this Gentleman, 
without thanking him for the politeness and for- 
bearance with which he attended to my remon- 
strances; though I suspect he will not quite coin- 
cide with those journalists, who have had the s 
city to discover symptoms of political servility* iu 
the dialogue. 

Among the many wants which are experienced in 
these times, the want of a sufficient number of Cri- 
tics will not, I think, be complained of by the most 

* This extraordinary charge was, I believe, founded upon the 
passage which alludes to the REGENT ; and if it be indeed servi- 
lity to look up with hope to the PRIX CE, as the harbinger of better 
clays to my wronged and insulted Country, and to expect that 
the friend of a Fox and a Mo IRA will also be the friend of 
Liberty and of Ireland if this be servility, in common with the 
great majority of my Countrymen, I am proud to say I plead 
guilty to the charge. 


querulous. Indeed, the state of an Author now re- 
sembles very much that of the poor Laplander in 
winter, who has hardly time to light his little candle 
in the darkness, before myriads of insects swarm 
round to extinguish it. In the present instance, 
however, I have no reason to be angry with my cen- 
surers; for, upon weighing their strictures on this 
dramatic bagatelle, against the praises with which 
they have honoured my writings in general, I find 
the balance so flatteringly in my favour, that grati- 
tude is the only sentiment which even the severest* 
have awakened in me. 

To Mr. ARNOLD, the Proprietor of the English 
Opera, I am indebted for many kindnesses and atten- 
tions ; and though we have differed so materially in 
our opinions of this Piece, those, who know the side 
which he has taken in the dispute, will easily believe 
that it has not very much imbittered my feelings 
towards him. 

The Music, which I have ventured to compose for 
the Opera, owes whatever little dramatic effect it 
may possess to the skilful suggestions and arrange- 
ments of Mr. HORN ; and I only fear that the deli- 
cacy, with which he has refrained from altering the 

* See the very elaborate Criticisms in The Times, of Tuesday, 
Sept. 10 ; and in The Examiner, of Sunday, Sept. \$. 


Melodies, or even the Harmonies which I attempted, 
may have led him into sanctioning many ungraceful 
errors in both, which his better taste and judgment 
would have rejected. 

To the Performers I am grateful for more than 
mere professional exertions ; there was a kind zeal 
amongst them, a cordial anxiety for my success, 
which, I am proud to hear, has seldom been 


ilury-strect, St. James\*> 
Oct. 9, IfJU. 


Charges Canvas Mr. Ox BERRY. 

Captain Canvas Mr. HORN. 

Henry de Rosier Mr. PHILIPPS. 

Mr. Harlingfon Mr. RAYMOND. 

Leatherhead Mr. LOVEGROVE. 

Davy Mr. KNIGHT. 

La Fosse Mr. WEWITZER* 

Lady Bab Blue Mrs. SPARKS. 

Madame de Rosier Mrs. HAMILTON. 

Miss Selwyn Mrs. MOUNTAIN. 

Miss Harrington Miss KELLY. 


Susan Mrs. BLAND. 

M. P. 




SCENE I. The Beach Boats coming to Land. 

1 HE song, that lightens the languid way, 
When brows are glowing, 
And faint with rowing, 
Is like the spell of Hope's airy lay, 
To whose sound thro' life we stray. 
The beams that flash on the oar awhile, 
As we row along thro' waves so clear, 
Illume its spray, like the fleeting smile 
That shines o'er Sorrow's tear. 

Nothing is lost on him, who sees 

With an eye that Feeling gave; 
For him there's a story in ev'ry breeze, 

And a picture in ev'ry wave, 


Then sing, to lighten the languid way ; 

When brows are glowing, 

And faint with rowing : 
*Tis like the spell of Hope'* airy lay, 
To \yhoije jsound thro' life we stray. 

Cfi&vq'h Lady Bab Blue, Miss Harring- 
ton, Miss Selwyn, and Davy, land from the Boat. 

Lady B. What a charming clear morning ! I 
protest we might almost see the coast of France. 
Run, Davy, and fetch my telescope. 

Davy. I wool, my Lady. [Exit Davy to Boat. 

Sir Charles. Ay, do, Davy the French coast is 
a favourite view of mine. 

Miss Selwyn. I thought, Sir Charles, your vie\vs 
lay nearer home. 

Sir C. Hem a hit at me for staying at home, 
while my brother is abroad fighting the enemy 
(aside). Why, really, Madam, if all the brains of the 
country were to be exported through the Admiralty 
and the War-Office, you would have none left for 
home consumption. No ao a few of us must stick 
to Old England, or her politics and fashions would be 
entirely neglected, and the devil would get amongst 
the ministers an.d the tailors, 

Miss Har ting ton. You suppose then, Sir Charles, 
that our politics and our fashions may be safely in- 
trusted to the same hands. 

Sir C. Certainly, Madam there is nothing like 
us for leading either the ton or the Opposition for 

turning out either an equipage or an Administration , 
and equally knowing on the turf and the hustings, if 
a favourite horse breaks down, or a new patriot bolts, 
we can start you fresh ones at the shortest' notice. 

Miss S. Your brother, however, seems to think, 
Sir Charles, that, on the quarter-deck of a British man 
of war, he may make himself at least as useful to his 
country, as if he passed all his time between a ba- 
rouche-box and the Treasury Bench. 

Sir C. That plaguy brother of mine is never out 
of her head (aside). Why, as to my brother Miss 
Selwyn my brother in short, Madam, if nly bro- 
ther had not been in such a hurry to come into the 
world, but had waited decently like me till his mother 
was married, he would not only have saved the fa- 
mily some blushes, but would have possessed, of 
course, the title, the fortune, and all those cogent 
little reasons which I now have for keeping this head 
of mine out of gun-shot, and employing it in the home 
department at your service. 

Miss S. His want of feeling upon this misfortune 
of his family is quite odious. We must not stay to 
listen to him/70 Miss Hartington.) Believe me, Sir 
Charles, you mistake the mode of recommending your- 
self, if you think to amuse by this display of levity 
upon a subject in which a parent's honour and a bro- 
ther's interests are so very deeply and delicately con- 
cerned. The rude hand of the world will be ready 
enough to lift the veil, without requiring your aid in 
the exposure. [Exeunt Miss Hart, and Miss Selwyn. 

Sir C. Ay this now comes of talking facetiously 
upon grave subjects. 'Tis the way in the House^ 
tho', always Adam Smith and Joe Miller well mixed, 
that's your Parliamentary style of eloquence. But 
what's our old Polyhymnia about here? [Turning 
to Lady Bab) who, daring this time, has got the tele- 
scope, and is looking towards the sea.~\ 

Lady B. Well positively tins is a most mira- 
culous telescope There there he is again. 

Sir C. May I ask what your Ladyship has found 

Lady B. Something black and red, Sir Charles that 
is moving on the coast opposite, which, my fond fancy 
persuades me, may be one of the great French che- 
mists. There, there he goes again, the dear man ! 
the black must be his face, and the red his night-cap 
What wonderful discoveries he may be making at 
this moment ! 

Sir C. Not more wonderful than you are making 
yourself, I think > old lady ! 

Lady B. Come here, Davy, and try what you can 
observe Your eyes have not suffered in the cause of 
science, like mine. 

Davy. Why, noa not much and, ecod ! some- 
times, of an evening, I can see twice as much as other 
folk. Like your Highland witches, I have a sight to 

Sir C. (Aside.} I never yet knew a learned lady, 
that did not delight in having a booby to shew off 
upon. Whether it be in the shape of servant, lover, 

or husband, these curious copies of Sappho generally 
have a calf-skin at their backs. 

Davy. (Looking through the glass.) What colour 
did you say a chemist was, my Lady ? 

Lady B. (smiling.) Why, rather of the dingy than 
otherwise the dark, sober, tinge of the laboratory. As 
my friend Dr. OMargon often says to me ' Your ig- 
norant people, Madam, have an objection to dirt but 
/ know what it is composed oj\ and am perfectly re* 
conciled to it/ And so he is, good man! he bears 
it like a philosopher. 

Davy. By gum ! I see it now, sailing away to 
windward like smoke. 

Lady B. Sailing! you blockhead! 

Davy. Ees and if you had not tould me 'twas a 
chemist, I could have sworn 'twas a great collier from 

Lady B. Ha! plenty of the carbonic, however! 
But, pray, Sir Charles, what has become of my niece 
and Miss Hartington ? 

Sir C. Just paired off. Madam, as we say at 
St. Stephen's, and left me in silent admiration of the 
ease with which your Ladyship's vision can travel to 
the coast of France, while the eyes of this unlet- 
tered rustic can reach no farther than the middle of 
the Channel. 

Davy. Well come to be half seas over is quite 
enough for any moderate man. 

Lady B. Hold your familiar tongue, and follow me 
Sir Charles, shall we try and find the young ladies ? 

Sir C. With all my heart though, I assure your 


Ladyship, the humour in which Miss Selwyn ad- 
journed the debate made me rather fear that I was put 
off till this day six months. 

Lady B. There are some of my sex, Sir Charles, like 
certain chemical substances it is impossible to melt 
them, because they jly off in vapour during the pro- 
cess. My niece, I confess, is of this fly-away nature; 
while /, alas ! am but too fusible. Come, D, 
bring the telescope safely after me. 

\_Escunt Sir C. and Lady B. 

Davy. I wool, my Lady (looking after her). 
What a comical thing your laming is ! Now, here 
am I, as a body may say, in the very thick on't. 
Nothing but knowledge, genus, and what not, from 
morning till night, and yet, dang it. somehow, none 
of it sticks to me. It wouldn't be so in other con- 
carns Now, in a public house for instance, I think 
I could hardly be among the liquors all day, without 
some of them finding their way into my mouth 
But here's this laming thof I be made a kind of 
accomplice in it by my lady, I am as innocent of it all 
3Sthe Parson of our parish. 

SONG. Davy. 

Says Sammy, the tailor, to me, 

As he sat with his spindles crossways, 
* J Tis bekase I'm a poet, you see, 

* That I kiver my head with green baize T 
So says I, * For a sample I bt> 

And I'm shot if he didn't produce, Sir, 
Some crossticks he wrote on his legs, 

And a pastern ode to his goose, Sir. 

Oh this writing and reading I 

*Tis all a fine conjuration, 
Made for folks of high breeding, 

To bother themselves and the nation ! 

There's Dick, who sold wine in the lane, 

And old Dickey himself did not tope ill ; 
But politics turned his brain, 

And a place he calFd Constantinople. 
He never could sit down to dine, 

But he thought of poor Turkey, he said, Sir; 
And swore, while he tippled his wine, 

That the Porte was ne'er out of his head, Sir. 
Oh this writing and reading ! &c. &c. 

The grocer, Will Fig, who so fast 

Thro' his cyphers and figures could run ye, 
By gum ! he has nothing, at last, 

But the cyphers to show for his money. 
The barber, a scollard, well known 

At the sign of the wig hanging from a tree, 
Makes ev'ry head like his own, 

For he cuts them all up into geometry ! 
Oh this writing and reading 1 &c. &c. 

SCENE II. 'An Apartment at Mr. HARTINGTON s. 
Enter Mi$* SBWYN and Miss HARTINGTON. 

Miss Hart. My dear Miss Selwyn I am so happy 
for once to have you quietly in my father's house. 
We never should "have got so intimate in London. 

Miss Selwyn. In London ! oh, never. What with 
being at home to nobody in the morning, and being at 


home to every body in the evening, there is no such 
thing as intimacy amongst us. We are like those la- 
dies of Bagdad, in ' The Arabian Nights/ who enter- 
tained strangers in their illuminated apartments, upon 
condition that they would not ask to know any thing 
further about them. 

Miss Hart. But I had almost forgot Sir Charles 

Miss S. Nothing so likely to slip out of one's me- 
mory, my dear. 

Miss Hart. I am quite happy to hear you say so, 
as I rather feared Sir Charles was a lover of yours. 

Miss S. And so he unfortunately is He loves 
me with a sort of electioneering regard for the in- 
fluence which my fortune would give him among 
the freeholders. In short, he canvasses my heart 
and the county together, and for every vow expects a 

Miss Hart. I had always supposed till now that 
Captain Canvas was the elder of the two. 

Miss S. You were right, my dear : he is older by 
a year than Sir Charles But their father, the late Ba- 
ronet, having married his lady privately in France, 
Captain Canvas was born before their marriage was 
avowed, and before the second solemnization of it, 
which took place publicly in England* Though no 
one doubts the validity of the first union, yet the 
difficulty, indeed the impossibility, of proving it r 
from the total want of witness or document, has been 
taken advantage of by Sir Charles to usurp the title 
and fortune, while his brave and admirable brother is 


carelessly wandering over the ocean, with no fortune 
but his sword, no title but his glory ! 

Miss Hart. 1 am not at all surprised at the warmth 
with which you speak of Captain Canvas 1 knew 
hi in once very well (sighs). 

Miss S. Very well, did you say. Miss Harting- 
ton ? 

Miss Hart. Oh ! nonot indeed scarcely at all. 
I meant merely that I had seen him. He was the 
friend of poor De Rosier (aside). 

Miss S. That sigh that confusion yes yes 
I see it plain she loves him too (aside ). 

[Mr. Harrington's voice heard wit/tout. 

Miss Hart. My father's voice ! what a lucky re- 
lief! I am so happy, my dear Miss Selwyn, in the op- 
portunity of introducing you to rny father. You must 
not be surprised at the oddity of his appearance he 
is just now setting out upon one of those benevo- 
lent rambles, for which he dresses himself like the 
meanest of mankind ; being convinced that, in this 
homely garb, he finds an easier access to the house 
of Misfortune, and that proud Misery unburdens her 
heart more freely for him who seems to share in her 
wants, than for him who ostentatiously comes to re- 
lieve them. 

Enter Mr. HARTINGTOX, meanly dressed. 

Miss Hart. Dear father ! my friend, Miss Sel- 

Mr. Hart. I fear, Miss Selwyn, I shall alarm you 
by these tatters Fine ladies, like crows, are apt to 
be frightened away by rags. 


Miss S. When we know, Sir, the purpose for 
which this disguise is assumed, it looks brighter in 
our eyes than the gayest habiliments of fashion for 
when charity 

Mr. Hart. Nay, nay, child, no flattery You 
have learned these fine speeches from your aunt, 
Lady Bab, who is, if I mistake not, what the world 
calls a Blue-Stocking. 

Miss S. In truth, Sir, I rather fear my aunt has in- 
curred that title. 

Mr. Hart. Yes yes I knew her father ho was 
a man of erudition himself, and, having no son t > in- 
herit his learning, was resolved to lay out every syl- 
lable of it upon this daughter, and accordingly 
stuffed her head with all that was legible an illr>j \ 
without once considering that the female intellect mav 
possibly be too weak for such an experiment, and 
that, if guns were made of glass, we should be but 
idly employed in charging the. 

Miss S. And would you, then, shut us out en- 
tirely from the light of learning? 

Mr. Hart. No no learn as much as you please, 
but learn also to conceal it. I could even bear a little 
peep at the blue-stockings, hut save me from the 
woman who shews them up to her knees ! 

Miss Hart. Nay, father, you speak severely. 

Mr. Hart. Perhaps 1 do, child, and lose my time 
in the bargain. But, there, make Miss Selwyn wel- 
come, while I go to my bureau to fill this little am- 
munition-pouch (skewing a small leather purse) for 
my day's sport among the cottages. Oh, money! 


money ! let bullionists and paper- mongers say what 
they will, the true art of raising the value of a guinea 
is to share it with those, who are undeservedly in 
want of it ! [Exit. 

Miss S. (looking after him) Excellent man ! 

Miss Hart. But were you not a little shocked by 
the misery of his appearance ? 

Miss S. Oh ! not at all. He seems to me like 
one of those dark clouds, that lay between us and the 
moon last night gloomy and forbidding on its out- 
ward surface, but lined with the silver light of heaven 


'Tis sweet to behold, when the billows are sleeping-, 
Some gay-colour'd bark, moving gracefully by ; 

No damp on her deck, but the even-tide's weeping, 
No breath in her sails, but the summer-wind's sigh, 

Yet, who would not turn, with a fonder emotion, 
To gaze on the life-boat, tho' rugged and worn* 

Which often hath wafted, o'er hills of the ocean, 
The lost light of hope to the seaman forlorn ? 

Oh ! grant that, of those, who, in life's sunny slumber, 
Around us, like summer-barks, idly have play'd, 

When storms are abroad, we may find, in the number, 
One friend, like the life-boat, to fly to our aid ! 


Sir Charles (speaking without). Miss Selwyn ! 
your aunt has despatched me to say that (Enters} 
Miss Selwyn ! Miss Selwyn! This saucy heiress 

C 9 


avoids me, as if I was a collector of the income-tax. 
I see how it is she has the impudence to dislike 
me without asking her aunt's consent negatives me 
without a division But Pil have her yet I'll marry 
her (as I got into Parliament) for opposition's sake. 
Snug house this of her friend Miss Harrington's. 
Her father, I hear, a rich banker. I rather suspect 
too that little Tory is somewhat taken with me. She 
listened to every thing I said as attentively as a Re- 
porter. Well egad ! in case I should fail in the 
one, I think I may as well make sure of the other. 
c Two strings to my bow, as Lord Either-Side says 
in the House.' But who have we here? 

Oh ! some poor pensioner of the family, I suppose 
One, too, who must have got his pension upon very 
honest terms, for his coat is evidently not worth 

Mr. Hart. Some troublesome visitor, that I must 
get rid of (aside}. 

Sir C. Pray, my good friend, is there any one at 
home ? 

Mr. Hart. No, Sir. 

Sir C. I thought \\isfriends were out by his look- 
ing so shabby (aside). And you. Sir, I presume, arc 
a quarterly visitor to this family or monthly, per- 
haps or weekly the Treasury, I know, pays quar- 

Mr. Hart. It is true, Sir* I am dependent upon 
the master of this house for all the comfort and happi- 
ness I enjoy. 


Sir C. I knew it at the first glance I knew it 
Let me alone for the physiognomy of placemen and 
pensioners from the careless smile of the sinecure 
holder, to the keen forward-looking eye of the rercr- 
sionist. This fellow may be useful to me (aside). 
And what are the services, pray, which you render 
in return to your benefactor ? 

Mr. Hart. The smile, Sir, which his good actions 
always leave upon my cheek, and the sweet sleep 
which he knows I enjoy, after witnessing the happy 
effects of his charity, are ample repayment to him 
for the utmost efforts of his benevolence. 

Sir C. Then, upon my soul, he is more easily 
paid than any of those / have ever had dealings with. 
I could smile bright or sleep heavy; but the gui- 
neas, being both bright and heavy, were always pre- 
ferred to my smiling and sleeping. 

Mr. Hart. I shall be kept here all day by this 
troublesome coxcomb (aside). Your pardon, Sir, I 
have some business to transact for Mr. Hartington. 

Sir C. Stay, my fine fellow, just one minute. 
How should you like to have an opportunity of 
serving your benefactor, and receiving the thanks of 
this honourable house for your good offices? 

Mr. Hart. Every thing that concerns Mr. Hart- 
ington, Sir, is as dear to me as my own immediate 

Sir . Exactly what we say of Great Britain in 
the House ' Every thing that concerns Great Bri- 
tain is as dear to me (mimicking) ' But, I say, 

my old pensioner, you know the boarding-house down 


Street ? (Mr. H. Jiods his head.) Good feeding there, 
by the bye commons fit for Lords only that the liils 
are brought in too early vi the session But call upon 
me there to-morrow or next day, and I'll employ you 
in some way that may be useful to you. In the mean 
time, as old Hartington seems to have a few amiable 
oddities about chanty and so forth, you can tell him, 
if you have an opportunity, that / too have a wonder- 
ful taste that way. Oh! you smile, Sir, do you? 
Well, then, to shew you that I have, here's (takes 
out his purse) yet stay just wait till my friends 
come into power, and, as I think you love tippling, 
I'll get you made a ganger, you dog ! 

Mr. Hart. Keep your patronage, Sir, for those 
who want it, and, above all, for those who deserve it. 
The master of this house is, thank Heaven ! the 
only patron /require. Let but my conduct meet 
with his approbation, and I may look up, with hope, 
to that highest of places, which the power of mon- 
archs cannot give, nor the caprices of this world de- 
prive me of. [Exit. 

Sir C. Well said, old boy though, for the soul 
of me, I cannot imagine what is the Place he alludes 
to. 'Tis not in the Red-Book, I'm sure But. no 
matter he may be useful in delivering a billet-doux 
for me to Miss Hartington. Cursed troublesome 
things those billet-doux! When I'm Chancellor of 
the Exchequer, I mean to propose a tax on them- 
(mimicking some public speaker) l Mr. Chairman ! 
I move that all love-dealings shall be transacted upon 
stamps. Soft nonsense, Sir, upon a 


when the passion is to any amount, an eighteen- 
pen'orth more and a proposal for marriage - ' No 

curse it I'll not lay any thing additional upon 
marriage. It never came under the head of luxuries^ 
and is quite tax enough in itself. [Exit. 

SCENE III. Another Apartment in Mr. HARTING- 

TON'S House. 

Mi*s Hart. How long this loitering girl is away ! 
my heart sickens with anxiety for her return. It can- 
not surely be De Rosier whom I saw at the library 
and yet his features, air, manner, altogether scarcely 
leave a doubt upon my heart. Oh, De Rosier! 
What strange caprice of Fortune can have lowered thy 
Station in life so suddenly ? And yet, wealth was not 
the charm that attracted me, nor could riches shed 
one additional grace upon that which is bright and 
estimable already. 

SONG. -Mm Hartington. 

When Leila toucli'd the lute, 

Not then alone 'twas felt, 
Put, when the sounds were mute, 

In memory still they dwelt. 
Sweet lute ! in nightly slumbers 
Still we heard thy morning numbers* 

Ah ! how could she, who stole 
Such breath from simple wire, 

Be led, in pride of soul, 

To string with gold her lyre ? 

Sweet lute ! thy chords she breaketh ; 

Golden now the strings she waketh ! 


But where are all the tales 

Her lute so sweetly told ? 
In lofty themes she fails, 

And soft ones suit not gold. 
Rich lute ! we see thee glisten, 
But, alas 1 no more tve listen ! 

Enter SUSAX. 
Well dear Susan ! what news ? 

Susan. Why, you see, Miss, I went to the circu- 
lating library, and as I forgot the name of the book 
you bid me get, I thought 1 would ask for one of my 
own choosing. So, says I, 'Sir, Miss Ha: 
sent me for the Comical Magazine, with the blue 
and red cuts in it;' upon which he blushed up, 

Miss Hart. Who blushed ? tell me is it he ? is 
it, indeed, Mr. De Rosier? 

'Susan. La! Miss there's no comfort in telling 
you a story you are always in such a hurry to 
at the contents of it. 

Miss Hart. Nay, but, my dear Susan ! 

Susan. Well if you will have it all at once it 
is he it is the game elegant young Mr. De Rosy, 
who used to walk by the windows in London to ad- 
mire you and there he is now behind the counter 
of that library, with a pen stuck in his beautiful ear, 
and his nice white hands all over with the dust of 
them dirty little story-books. 

Miss Hart. There's a mystery in this, which I 
cannot account for. I did indeed hear from one, who 


knew him well, that he depended upon precarious re- 
mittances from France but " then 

" Susan. Lord Miss your emigrants are always 
" purcarious people tho', indeed, to give the devil 
" his due, Mr. De Rosy is as little like one as may 
44 be for, I purtest and wow, he speaks English al- 
46 most as well as myself; and he used to give a 
" pound-note as prettily as if he had been a banker's 
"clerk all his life-time. 

" Miss Hart. He has given you money, then, 
" Susan? 

" Susan. Once in a way, Miss a trifle or so 
" and, God knows ! I earn'd it well by answering all 
" his troublesome questions about who were your 
u visitors, and who you liked best, and whether you 
" ever talked of him after the night he danced with 
18 you at the ball. 

*' Miss Hart, That night! the only time I ever 
" heard his voice ! And" did he seem to know you 
to-day, Susan ? 

Susan. Indeed, Miss, I made believe not to know 
him for I have lived too long among my betters not 
to larn, that it is bad taste to go on knowing people, 
after they have come into misfortune. But when I 
told him you sent me for the Comical Magazine, with 
the blue and red cuts in it, la ! how he did blush and 
stare ! 

Miss Hart. What a taste must he impute to me ! 
It would be imprudent perhaps cruel to go there 
myself and yet I feel I cannot resist the inclination. 
.Give me the catalogue, Susan, and in a quarter of 



an hour hence bring my walking-dress to the drawing* 
room- (Goes o>it reading the catalogue}. ' Fatal At- 
tachment/ ' Victim of Poverty/ Heigh ho ! [Exit. 
Susan. AyHeigh ho! indeed. It must be a 
very, very stout, hardy love, that will not take cold, 
when the poverty season sets in for it is but too true 
what some fine poet has said, that ' When Pov 
comes in at the door, Love flies out of the window/ 


Young Love liv'd once in an humble bhed, 

Where roses breathing, 

And woodbines wreathing 
Around the lattice their tendrils spread, 
As wild and sweet as the life he led. 

His garden flourished, 

For young Hope nourished 
The infant buds with beams and showers ; 
But lips, tho.' blooming, must still be fed, 
And not even Love can live on flowers. 

Alas ! that Poverty's evil eye 

Should e'er corne hither, 

Such sweets to wither ! 
The flowers laid down their heads to die, 
And Hope fell sick, as the witch drew nigh. 

She came one morning, 

Ere Love had warning, 

And rais'd the latch, where the young god lay ; 
^ Oh ho !' said Love < is it you ? good bye ;' 
So he oped the window, and flew away ! 


SCENE IV. A Circulating Library. 

Leath. Bless me ! Bless me ! Where is this fine 
gentleman, my shopkeeper? Idling his time, I war- 
rant him, with some of the best-bound books in the 
shop. Ah ! 'tis a foolish thing for a scholar to turn 
bookseller just as foolish as it is for a jolly fellow to 
turn wine-merchant; they both serve themselves 
before their customers, and the knowledge and the 
wine all get into their own heads. And your poets 
too! extraordinary odd-fish! only fit to be served 
up at the tables of us booksellers- who feed upon 
them, as the dogs fed upon poor Rumble's Pegasus. 

SONG. Leaiherhead. 

Robert Rumble, a poet of lyric renown, 

Hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 
Was invited to dine with a 'Squire out of town, 

With his hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 
His nag had a string-halt, as well as his lyre, 
So he mounted and r6de to the house of the 'Squire, 
Who was one of those kind-hearted men, that keep hound* 
Just to hunt off the vermin from other men's grounds, 

With my hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 

The huntsman that morning had bought an old hack, 

Hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 
To cut up as a delicate lunch for the pack, 

With my hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 


But who can describe Robert Rumble's dismay , 
When the 'Squire, after dinner, cainc smirking to say, 
That, instead of the dog-horse, some hard-hearted wag^ 
Had cut p, by mistake, Robert Rumble's lean nag, 
With his hey scribble hy scribble, ho 1 

But * Comfort yourself,* said the "Squire to the Bard, 

Hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 
* There's the dog-horse still standing alive in the yard,' 

With my hey scribble hy scribble, ho 1 
Then they saddled the dog-horse, and homeward he set, 
So suspiciously eyM by each dog that he met, 
That yoa'd swear, notwithstanding his cavalry airs, 
They suspected the steed he was on should be theirs* 

With my hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 

Arrived safe at home, to his pillow he jogs, 

Hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 
And dreams all the night about critics and dogs* 

With his hey scribble hy scribble, he ! 
His nag seemM a Pegasus, touched in the wind, 
And the curs were all wits, of the true Cynic kind, 
Who, when pressM for a supper, must bite ere they sup, 
And who ate Robert Rumble's poor Pegasus up, 

With a hey scribble hy scribble, ho ! 

Why, De Rosier! Mr. De Hosier! I say 
JEnfer HENRY DE ROSIER, with a Book in his Hand. 
Leath. What is the meaning of all this, Sir? 
What have you been about? Do you mean to ruio 

De Ros. I ask pardon, ^Sir I have been just 
looking over the last new publication, to see if it be 
fit for the young ladies of the boarding-school. 

Luath. Which is as much as to say, Sir. that you 

would sooner ruin me than the young ladies of the 
boarding-school! I am ashamed of you. 

Dt Ros. 1 really thought, Sir, 1 had done every 
thing that 

Leath. Done, Sir? every thing's undone, ftr; 
and I shall be so myself very soon. Here's books to 
go out, Sir, and they won't walk of themselves, will 
they ? Here's Tricks upon Travellers, bespoke by 
Mrs. Ringwell, who keeps the Red Fox ; and there's 
the Road to Ruin for the young 'Squire, that sets off 
for London to-night. Here are parcels too to go by 
the coach Ovid's Art -of Love to be left at the 
Transport Office ; and tile Lady of ike Lake to be 
-delivered at the Lying-in Hospital. 

JJe llos. We have had a new subscriber this 
morning, Sir Miss Hartington. 

Leath. (Bustling among the books on the counter), 
So much the better hope she's a good one reads 
clean and neat won't double down the corners, or 
favour us with proof impressions of her thumbs. 
Come; put these volumes back in their places. 
Lord! Lord! how my customers ill-use my books! 
Here's nothing but scribbling in the Lives of the 
Poets ; and clear me the World all turn'd topsy- 
turvy by Miss Do-little ! There's our best set of 
Public Characters have been torn to pieces at the 
Good-natured Ciub; and bless me ! bless me! 
how the Wild Irish G t irl has been tossed and tumbled 
by Captain O'Callaghan! There that will do now 
mind you don't stir from this till 1 come back ; I 
am just going to remind neighbour Rumble that he 
forgot to pay for the Pleasures of Memory ; and the 


I have to step to the pawnbroker's up street, to re- 
deem the Wealth of Nations, which poor Mr. 1 
phlet popped there for a five-and-sixpcnny dollar. 
Bless me! bless me 1 how my customers ill-use my 
books ! [Exit. 

De Eos. There is some little difference betv 
this and the gay sphere I mov'd in, when Miss Hart- 
ing'ton's beauty first disturbed my mind ; when, 
through the crowded world I saw but her alone, and 
felt her influence even where she was not. AVell the 
short dream is over! the support of a beloved mother 
must now sweeten the toil to which 1 am destined ; 
and he but little deserves the smile of Fortune, who 
has not the manliness to defy her frown. Jksjr 
Heaven has blessed me with that happy imagination, 
which retains the impressions of past pleasure, as the 
Bologna-stone treasures up sunbeams; and the light 
of one joy scarcely ever faded from my heart, before I 
had somehow contrived to illuminate its place with 

SQXG.ffenry De Rosier. 

Spirit of joy ! thy altar lies 

In youthful hearts, that hope like mine* 
And 'tis the light of laughing eyes 

That leads us to thy fairy shrine. 
There if we find the sigh, the tear, 

They are not those to sorrow known, 
But breath so soft, and drops so clear, 

That Bliss may claim them for her own. 
Then give me, give me, while I weep, 

The sanguine hope that brightens woe, 
And teaches even our tears to keep 

The tinge of rapture while they flow* 


The child, who sees the dew of night 

Upon the spangled hedge at morn, 
Attempts to catch the drops of light, 

But wounds his finger with the thorn. 
Thus oft the brightest joys we seek 

Dissolve, when touch'd, and turn to pain ; 
The flush they kindle leaves the cheek, 

The tears they waken long remain. 
But give me, give me, while I weep, 

The sanguine hope that brightens woe, 
And teaches even our tears to keep 

The tinge of rapture while they flow. 

(Looking out). 'Tis Miss Ilartington herself- 
and this way she comes How shall I avoid her ? Yet, 
no ; since hope is fled, come, honest pride ! to my 
relief, and let me meet my fate unshrinkingly. I 
must not, however, seem to know her; nor let her, 
if possible, recognize me. [He retires to the counter. 


Miss Hart. Yes ; there he is. How alter'd from 
the lively, fashionable, De Rosier! 

Susan. I told you, Miss, what a figure he cuts'; 
but Pm glad to see he has taken the black pen out of 
his ear. 

Miss Hart. I surely ought to acknowledge him ; 
he will think me proud and cold if I do not. Mr. De 

Susan. Mister, indeed! La! Miss, you would 
not Mister a shopkeeper, would you ? Let me speak 
to him Young man ! 

Miss Hart. (Drawing Stcsan backj. Hush ! Susan, 
for Heaven's sake. 


De Ros. ('Coming forward J, Is there any book, 
Madam, you wish me to look out for you r 

Miss Hart, No Sir but 

DeRos. On this shelf, Madam, lie the French 
Memoirs, which are, of course, not unknown to you 

Mis* Hart. Tb< s y are very interesting, but - 

" De Ros. Oh ! most particularly so (turning 
" away from her, and talking rapidly). While 
" history shews us events and characters, as they ap- 
" peared on the grand theatre of public affairs, these 
" Memoirs conduct us into the green-room of poli- 
" tics, where we observe the little intrigues and jea- 
" lousies of the actors, and witness the rehearsal of 
{C those scenes which dazzle and delu presen- 

" tation. 

" Susan. Ah ! he wouldn't have talked politics 
ct to her so when he was a gentleman (aside). 

" Miss Hart'' It was not for this pu Mr. De 

Rosier, that 

De Ros. Oh, your pardon Madam then perhaps 
you prefer the Poets here (pointing to another shelf). 

Susan. Lord, no, young man ! She hates poverty 
and all its kin, I assure you. 

Miss Hart. I desire that you will be silent, Susan 
he will think that we come to sport with his 

De Ros. The few English Poets, who have wor- 
shipped Love file looks at Miss Hartington, and 
both become i on fused). 

Susan. Oh ho ! 

De Ros. I must not forget myself (aside). I 


was saying, Madam, that the few English Poets, who 
have worshipped Love, seem so coldly ignorant of his 
power and attributes, that the shrine, which they 
raise to him, might be inscribed, like the famous altar 
at Athens, 6 to the unknown God.' " Cowley here, 
" and Donne (taking down two books J^ are the chief 
" of these unenlightened idolaters" far from wish- 
ing us to/<?e/what they write, they appear very un- 
willing that we should even understand it ; and 
having learned from mythology that Love is the child 
of Night, they visit upon the son all the coldest ob- 
scurity of the parent. Ci There is nothing less touch- 
" ing thafi these quibbling, pedantic lovers, who 
" seem to think that their mistresses, like the Queen 
" of Sheba, are to be won by riddles." 

Miss Hart. I perceive that he is determined not 
to acknowledge me; yet, if he could but know what 
is passing here ( laying her hand on her heart ) at this 
moment, he would not, perhaps, regret that Fate 
has disturb'cl the balance between us; since just as 
much as fortune has sun/con his side, I feel that love 
has risen on mine. 

Susan. La ! come away, Miss 1 I'm sure it can't 
be proper things he's saying to you ; for I never 
heard such rigmarole words in my born days. 

De Ron. But here is a Poet born in a softer clime, 
who seems to breathe the true temperature of affec- 
tion the air of that habitable zone of the heart, 
which is equally removed from the bright frost-work 
of sentiment on one side, and the tainting meridian 
of the senses on the other. 



TRIO. Miss Hartington, Susan^ and De Roster. 

To sigh, yet feel no pain, 

To weep, yet scarce know why ; 
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, 

Then throw it idly by ; 
To kneel at many a shrine, 

Yet lay the heart on none ; 
To think all other charms divine, 

But those we just have won ; 
This is love careless love 
Such as kindleth he'arts that rove. 

To keep one sacred flame 

Thro' life, unchill'd, unmov'd ; 
To love, in -wintry age, the same 

That first in youth we lov'd ; 
To feel that we adore 

To such refin'd excess, 
That tho' the heart would break with more, 

We could not live with less; 
This is love faithful love, 
Such as saints might feel above ! 



SCENE. Part of the Rave-Ground. 

A Crowd of Peasants, Hawkers, fyc. among whom are 

SONG. DAVY, and Chorus of Peasants. 

COME, lads, life's a whirligig ; 

Round we whisk 

With a joyous frisk, 

And till death stops the turn of our twirligig* 
Merry go round's the life for me. 

You, standing surly there, 

You, with the curly hair, 

Dick, that's laughing here, 

Tom, that's quaffing here, 

You too, my gipsy lass, 

Spite of your lips, alas ! 
All must give up this world of glee, 

Then come, lads, life's a whirligig ; 
Round we whisk 
With a joyous frisk, 

And till death stops the turn of our twirligig* 
Merry go round's the life for me, 
K 2 


Time's short but we'll have our fun of it; 

Life a race is, 

That tries our paces, 

And, when Mirth makes a good run of it, 
Devil may take the hindmost for me. 

Lads that love filling bowls, 

Girls that have willing souls, 

These can soothe the way, 

Roll life smooth away. 

While there's a glass to drink, 

While there's a lass to wink, 
Who would give up this world of glee? 
So come, lads, life's a whirligig, &c. &c. 

Davy. Come, lads, the races are just nigh to 
begin There's John Bull going up the hill Two 
to one on John Bull Dang it ! that's my favourite 
horse / looking out). 

La Fosse. Oui certainly that Butt is vare pretty 

Davy. Just look how noble-minded he steps. 
Old Monsieur here must be taken in for a bit of a 
bet, I think (aside). Come, boys ! Oh, zounds ! 
(looking out) here's my old litter of a Lady, as 
she calls herself; and now shall I be tied behind 
her all day, and not get a sight of John Bull or 
Cronyhotontollygos. But I say, lads, stand before 
me a little mayhap, as she ha'nt got her tellumscope, 
she'll not spy me out. (They stand round him). 

Enter Lady BAB and Miss HARTINGTOX. 
Miss S. Nay, my dear aunt 
Lady B. I tell you, Miss, my resolution is fixed 
'pon my word, I believe you think I am like a 


tnoveable pully in mechanics, to be twirled about just 
as it suits your fancy. 

Miss S. Oh Madam ! if you did but see Captain 
Canvas so unlike his brother! 

Lady B. I don't care for that, Miss I never did 
see him, nor ever will that's categorical. 

Davy. (Behind.) She says she won't see me 

Lady 13. And as I perceive by your reveries, 
young Lady, that you think there is some chance 
of his arriving here, I will give positive orders that 
he shall not be admitted no not even within the 
penumbra of my roof w here's that fool, Davy ? 

Davy. Here, my Lady (coming forth from the 
crowd; who all run off laughing, except the French- 

Ladij R. Why, what's all this, Sir? 

Davy. Why, my Lady you see I ware only 
giving a piece of my advice to this poor outlandish 
Mounseer here, not to let the knowing chaps trick 
him out of his half-pence at the Races. 

La Fosse. (Advancing with bows.) Oui my 
Lady Jean Bull 

Davy. H ush, mon ! (putting his hand on his mouth.) 

Lady B. Run home, fellow, instantly, and tell 
the servants, that if a gentleman, of the name of 
Captain Canvas, should call, he is to be told that we 
have given orders not to admit him Captain Canvas, 
mind Sir Charles's brother and then return hither 
instantly to attend me to the Stand-House Fly. 

Davy. I fly, my Lady. (Pic beckons to La Fosse 
to follow him., and exit. ) 


La Fosse. Oui -certainly but I cannot fly.- 

\_Exit after Davy. 

Lady B. I'll teach you, Miss, what it is to fall 
in love without consulting your relations. I declare 
the young ladies of the present day shock me. 
Quite reversing the qualities of what we chemists 
call the perfect metals, they are any thing but ductile^ 
and most shamefully combustible. It was very dif- 
ferent in my time* 

Miss S. Nay, do not, clear aunt, take example by 
those times, when marriage was a kind of slave-trade, 
and when Interest carried her unfeeling commerce 
even into the warm latitudes of youth and beauty 
No let Love banish such traffic from his dominions, 
and let Woman, mistress of her freedom, resign it 
only with her heart ! 

SONG. Miss Selwyn. 

Dear aunt ! in the olden time of love, 

When women like slaves were spurn'd, 
A maid gave her heart, as she would her glove> 

To be teazed by a fop, and returned ; 
But women grow wiser as men improve, 

And tho 1 beaus like monkeys amuse us, 
Oh ! think not we'd give such a delicate gem 
As the heart, to be play'd with or sullied by them ; 
No dearest aunt ! excuse us. 

We may know by the head on Cupid's seal 

What impression the heart will take ; 
Jf shallow the htad, oh ! soon we feel 

What a poor impression 'twill make. 


Tho' plagued, Heaven knows ! by the foolish zeal 

Of the fondling fop who pursues me, 
Oh ! think not I'd follow their desperate rule, 
Who get rid of the folly by wedding the fool ; 
No dearest aunt ! excuse me. 

Enter Sir CHARLES, in a Hurry. 

Sir C. Ladies Ladies Ladies you'll be too late 
you'll be too late. 

Lady B. What! have the Races begun, Sir Charles? 

Sir C. Begun ? yes to be sure they have begun 
there's the high-blooded horse Regent has just 
started, and has set off in such a style as promises a 
race of glory ! 

[DAVY enters."] 

" Lady B. Bless me ! I wouldn't lose it for the 
" world Here, blockhead (to Davy), take this vo- 
" lume out of my pocket 'tis Professor Plod's Syl- 
" labus of a Course of Lectures upon Lead, and much 
" too heavy to walk up hills with. (Gives him a large 
" book.) Now Sir Charles. 

Sir C. Come Madam you'll be delighted I 
" am but just this moment come from the House (I 
" mean the Stand-House), where the knowing-ones 
" take different sides, you understand, according as 
" they think a horse will be in or out but upon 
" this start they are all nem. con. and the universal 
" cry from all sides isRegent against the field! Huzza! 
" Huzza!" [Exeunt. 

Davy. I say Mounseer Mounseer (calling on 
La Fosse). I must follow the old-one now but do 
you, you see, come up behind the Stand-House by- 


and-by, just as if you had no concarn, yon know, 
and you and I \vill have a snug bet upon Cronyho- 
tontollygos. [ Ecit. 

La Fosse. Ah ! oui certainly sure good Mas*- 
ter Davy Dam rogue ! he want to get at my niuiicy 
but, pardi ! he as well look for brains in an oyster 
Ah ! my money be all gone vid ir>y c vt-ry 

ting but my poor tabatiere here >oks 

with interest at hi* snuff-box). Ah n. 
you vas fond of my cookery, and 1 vi. 
in dat vay, to be sure but-now, by gar, L am lik 
de barber vvidout customer, I have not even on< 
Lead to dress My Lady, Madame de Ko. 
noting at all young Monsieur de Rosier eat litli 
noting and moi pauvremoi ! I eat little and not 
just as it happen Ah ! de Revolution destroy ail de 
fine arts, and eating among de rest! [ 7i< 

Enter Captain CAKVAS. 

Capt. C. Faithless, faithless sex ! your hearts are 
like the waves, that keep no trace of us when wo 
h.ave left them another love soon follows in our 
wake, and the same bright embra.- K tor it. 

My letter apprized her of my return, and yet h 
instead of a smiling welcome, 1 find her doors are 
shut against me. Brother! Brother! I could R 
to you with ease the rank and fortune to which I am 
entitled nay, even the brand of illegitimacy I could 
smile at; but to see you thus bear away from me 
the dearest object of my affections, is more than even 
this tough sailor's heart can endure* My poor de- 


parted messmate! like thine, alas ! has been my fate 
in love like thine, too, be my destiny in death! 

SONG. Capt. Canvas. 

When Charles was deceived by the maid he lov'd* 

We saw no cloud his brow overcasting, 
But proudly he smil'd, as if gay and unmov'd, 

Tho' the wound in his heart was deep and lasting; 
And often, at night, when the tempest roll'd, 

He sung, as he paced the dark deck over* 

* Blow, wind, blow ! thou art not so cold 

As the heart of a maid that deceives her lover P 

Yet he liv'd with the happy, and seem'd to be gay, 
Tho' the wound but sunk more deep for concealing; 

And Fortune threw many a thorn in his way, 

Which, true to one anguish, he trod without feeling! 

And, still by the frowning of Fate unsubdued, 
He sung, as if sorrow had plac'd him above her, 

* Frown, Fate, frown ! thou art not so rude 

As the heart of a maid that deceives her lover !* 

At length his career found a close in death, 

The close he long wish'd to his cheerless roving, 
For Victory shone on his latest breath* 

And he died in a cause of his heart's approving* 
But still he remember'd his sorrow, and still 

He sung, till the vision of life was over, 
c Come, death, come ! thou art not so chill 

As the heart of the maid that deceiv'd her lover I* 

1 must find out De Rosier They told me* at his for- 
rner lodgings in town, that he had retired hither for 
his health Pray, friend, can you direct me to th 
house of Mr. Leatherhead, the bookseller ? 

La Fosse. Ah ! oui Sare yes vare well indeed 
dat is vare my young master is bound up in a shop- 
man ( aside ). 

Capt. C. Does a gentleman of the name of De 
Rosier lodge there ? 

La Fosse. Oui Sare he lodge there in the shop. 

Capt. C. The shop ? 

La Fosse. Yes Sare in de shop pon de book- 
shelf, vat you call 

Capt. C. Oh ! I understand you always among 
the books I know De Rosier is of a studious turn 
He does not then see much company, I suppose? 

La Fosse. Pardon Monsieur all de young ladies 
of dis place make visit to him exactement as they 
come out of de water. 

Capt. C. Indeed ? 

La Fosse. Oh ! yes he have de name of all de 
pretty little girl down in von book. 

Capt. C. Happy De Rosier ! who can thus trifle 
away your time in those light gallantries, which 
require so little expenditure of feeling to maintain 
them, and for which the loose coin of the senses is 
sufficient, without drawing upon the capital of the 

heart while 1 oh, Harriet Selvvyn ! what a rich 

mine of affection have you slighted ! 

La Fosse. Dis way, Sare. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The Circulating Library. 

Susan. (Looking at a bank-note. ) Well, I pur- 


test, Sir, you are quite yourself again and if you had 
but a three-corner hat on you now, you'd be just as 
much a gentleman as ever. 

De Ros. Come then now my good Susan 
do tell me what are those little favourable symptoms, 
which you think you have discovered for me in your 

Susan. Why, in the first place, she says so oftea 
you are not worth thinking of, that it is very plain 
she thinks of nothing else And then she is as jea- 
lous of you 

De Ros. Nay, Susan, there you mock me jea- 
lous of me ! these books are my only mistresses ; 
and fashionable ones they are, I grant, for they circu- 
late through half the town. 

Susan. These books indeed ! no no Mr. De 
Rosy for all you look so modest, we have foimd 
out the lady in the cottage down the lane, so we 
have She that was smuggled over to you, you know, 
from France. 

De Ros. My mother, by all that is excellent ! 
(aside J and She is jealous of me, is she ? Did 
she trace me to the cottage herself? What does she 
say of it ? tell me tell me quick, dear Susan (with 

Susan. Well, if ever I saw any thing so auda- 
cious he does not even deny it hasn't even the 
vartue to tell a lie about it FI1 be hanged if I don't 
now believe every word they said about you last- 
night at the tea-party. 

F 2 


De Ros. Why what did they say, good Susan ? 
eh , happiness unexpected ! ( aside J. 

Susan. They said you had as many wives as the 
great Cram of Tartary ; that your Lady in the lane 
was a French Duchess or thereabouts, that smuggled 
herself over to you in a large packing-case, purtcnding 
to be crockery- ware pretty crockery, indeed ! 

De Ros. This discovery gives me new life jea- 
lous of me ! 

Susan. There if he isn't quite proud of the dis- 
covery ! oh rakery ! rakery ! but I'll go and tell it all 
to my mistress Lord ! Lord ! what will the times 
come to, when Duchesses are sent about, like other 
brittle ware, in packing-cases ? [Exit Susan. 

De Ros. Jealousy ! thou shadow from Love's form, 
which still the darker falls the warmer light he moves 
in her heart has felt thee, then Happy, happy De 
Rosier ! It may be folly perhaps to feel so happy, but 
Wisdom herself can do no more and there is nothing 
in life like that sweet philosophy, which softens all 
that is painful, and enhances all that is pleasant, by 
making the best of the one, and the most of the 

other. [Exit. 


Leatk. (Calling.} Mr. De Rosier! Why, De 
Rosier, I say. If this young Frenchman keeps me 
bawling after him this way, I shall split my voice into- 
two, like Orator Puff, of the Debating Society, whose 
eloquence is a happy mixture of bubble and squeak 
and who begins all his sentences in the garret, and 
ends them in the cellar ( mimicking J. 


SONG. Leatherhead. 

Mr. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice, 

The one squeaking: thus, and the other down so ; 
In each sentence he utter'd he gave you your choice, 
For one half was B alt, and the rest G below. 
( h ! oh ! Orator Puff, 
One voice for one orator's surely enough, 

But he still talk'd away, spite of coughs and of frowns, 
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs, 
That a wag once, on hearing the orator say 

* My voice is for war,' ask'd him, ' Whick of them, pray ?' 

Oh ! oh ! &c f 

Reeling homewards, one evening, top-heavy with gin, 
And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the Crown, 

He tripp'd near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in, 

' Sinking Fund* the last words as his noddle came down. 
Oh ! oh ! &c. 

* Good Lord !' he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, 

' Help me out help me out I have broken my bones !' 
' Help you out !' said a Paddy who pass'd, ' what a bother ! 

* Why, there's two of you there; can't you help one another ?' 

Oh ! oh ! &c. 

Oh ! you are here, Sir, are you ? 

Enter DE ROSIER, with printed Sheets in his Hand. 

Leath. So So a specimen of my new printing- 
press A bright thought of mine, Mr. Thing-o-me, 
wasn't it, eh ? 

De Ros. Oh ! excellent Sir (laughing). 

Leath. I think so 'Poet Rumble here must have 
sent to London, if I couldn't print for him. 


De Ros. Oh ! most inconvenient, Sir, his Pin- 
darics must have gone by the waggon, and his Epi- 
grams by the long heavy coach Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Leath. Ha! ha! ha! Damn the fellow, I be- 
lieve he is laughing at my printing-press (aside J. 
But let's see let's see how goes on my new com- 
positor ? 

De Ros. Why, pretty well Sir he generally 
puts one word in place for another, which, in poetry 
like Mr. Rumble's, does not make much difference. 
Indeed, as in the militia, the substitute is always a 
better man than the principal, so here in the line I 
mean Mr. Dactyl's Jine, Sir ; you'll excuse me ha! 
ha! ba! 

Leath. Curse the grinning puppy ! I wish the 
types were down his throat, large Roman letters and 
all (aside}. 

De Ros. Allow me to give you an instance or 
two, Sir, of your printer's happy deviation from the 
copy (reads ). ' The dear and fragrant sigh of in- 
fancy J he has converted into a c dire and flagrant 
sign of infamy ? ' sweets of morning / he has turned 
into * suits of mourning ; y and ' haunted by all the 
mellow dreams of Horace,' he has made * hunted by 
all the melo-drames of horses !' Ha! ha! ha! 

Leath. Ha! ha! Impudent rascal! how merry 
he is! but I'll teach him to take liberties with the 
press, the jacobin ! He'd give his eyes to go to the 
Races I know he would ; but I'll not let him I'll 
go there myself to spite him Fll give him a job, too, 


that my gentleman won't like (aside ). Here you, Mr. 
Scholar here's some books to"g< to Lady Bab Blue'* 
library, and you must take and arrange them for her. 

DeRos. What! I, Sir? 

Leath. Yes you, Sir, and leave the porter to 
look after the shop. She is a lady of learning, they 
say, and ought to have a critic to wait on her Happy 
to recommend you for that situation She might like 
to have a reviewer on her establishment Fifty pounds 
a year and the run of the kitchen Sorry to part with 
you but (all this time Leatherhead is at the counter 
arranging the books) . 

Enter Capt. CANVAS and LA FOSSE. 

Capt. C. (Starting at seeing De Rosier). De 
Rosier! for heaven's sake, what is the meaning 

De Ros. Hush! and I'll tell you all presently* 

Leath. Who is that, eh? 

De Ros. Merely a gentleman, Sir, who wishes to 
see our catalogue. 

Leath. And who is that foreign-looking thief, that 
stands grinning at you there ? 

De Ros. Oh ! that Sir is What shall I say 
to get a few moments' explanation with Canvas ? 
(aside). That, Sir, is a French man of letters, who 
having heard of your new printing*press, is come to 
engage with you as a translator. (Retires to the back 
of the stage with Capt. C.) 

Leath. Translator! himself an original quite- 
must talk to him, tho'. Servant, Sir well acquaint- 
ed, I'm told, with the learned tongues ? 


La Fosse. Ah ! he have heard of my cookery 
(aside) Oui certainly, Sare, dress de tongue d 
merveille and de sauce ! by gar you would eat your 
fader with it.* 

Leath. Eat my father! what the devil does he 
mean ? 

La Fosse. You like it, Sare, done English way ? 

Leath. Yes yes done into English, to be sure 
and let it be something that will go down, you know. 

La Fosse. Ah ! pardi he will go down fast 
enough (laying his hand on his stomach) Den, 
Sare, I can make you de finest nick-nack out of 
noting at all. 

Leath. How well he understands the art of au- 
thorship ! (aside) . 

La Fosse. Hash up de old ting like new 

Leath. Right book-making! 

La Fosse. Vid plenty salt 

Leath. Attic bravo ! 

La Fosse. Vare much acid 

Leath. Satiric excellent ! 

La Fosse. And den de little someting varm and 
piquante for de ladies 

Leath. Oh! it will do it will do (throwing /ns 
arms round, La Fosse) I am so lucky to meet you 
But let's see (looks at his watch) Have you any 
gbjeetion, Sir, to walk towards the race-ground ? We 
may talk of these matters on the way. 

La Fosse. Oui sure certainly tho' pardi, Sare, 

*,A cette sauce-la on man^eroit son pere. 

J/ Almanack des Gourmands* 


your conversation give me appetite enough widoutde 

Leath. Oh ! you flatter me, Sir 

La Fosse. Apres vous, Monsieur 

[Exeunt ceremoniously. 
[Capt. Canvas and De Rosier come forward.] 

Capt. C. But why did you not answer my letter, 
and acquaint me with this fall of your fortunes? 

De Ros. The truth is, my dear Canvas, I have 
such an aversion to letter-writing, that I have some- 
times thought the resolution of Sir Phelim O'Neal, 
never to answer any thing but a challenge, was the 
only peaceable way of getting through life. But let 
us not talk of misery love is our only theme. 

Capt. C. And that way lies my misery Oh ! if 
I could but see the faithless girl once more, Pd take 
a last, an eternal farewell fly to my ship forget the 
rery name of woman and, like the Doge of Venice, 
marry myself to the sea. 

De Ros. Her aunt, Lady Bab, you say, has for- 
bidden you the house ? 

Capt. C. Positively excludes me. 

De Ros. Heaven send she may do me the same 
favour u But though her Ladyship is not at home 
" to Love, she seldom refuses the visits of Learning, 
" an acquaintance whom she treats ceremoniously, 
" not being on very familiar terms with him" 
there lie my letters of introduction to her presence 
(pointing to a parcel on the counter ). 

Capt. C. What ! those books ? 

De Ros, Yes those books, " which are as 



r <i come and about as useful to her Ladyship as an 
<s opera-glass to a South-Sea islander." 

Capt. C. But what did you say of an introduc- 
tion to her presence ? 

De Ros. Why, simply, that my master has in- 
flicted upon me the honour of carrying that parcel 
to Lady Bab's library, and if you have the least am- 
bition for the employment, I will depute it to you 
with all my soul happy if, like other great men, I 
may be the means of making the fortune of my de- 
puty, and it 'carrying out books should prove as pro- 
fitable to you as keeping books has been to many 

Capt. C. Tis an excellent thought ; I thank you 
from my heart for it. 

DC Ros. You are not serious, Canvas? 

Capt. C. Never was more serious in my life. 

De Ros. Ha! ha! ha! Why, what will your 
ship's-company think of you, when they hear you 
have turn'd bookseller and stationer? 

Capt. C. No matter it will give me an opportu- 
nity of seeing her once more, and of returning into 
r her hands this long-lov'd picture, whose colours, 
though fleeting, have not faded like her affections. 

De Ros. Very pretty, faith ! But I think I could 
match it Where the deuce ? (searching his pockets, 
and then going to a corner of the library) Oh ! here 
it is hid under the Baisers of Dor at covered, as it 
ought to be, with a whole volume of kisses! (pro- 
duces a miniature J. There I have as little right to 
that copy, as any other man but myself has, in 


opinion, to the original It was done by my friend 
Crayon, from his own miniature of Miss Harrington, 
and I ran away with it. Prometheus had the image, 
when he stole the flame but I, being provided with 
thejiame flaying his hand on his heart J, stole the 


Capt. C. (Looking at his own miniature J. How 
many ghosts of departed promises haunt those faith- 
less lips! 

De Ros. (Looking at Ms). And how many little 
unfledged hopes lie nestling in that dimpled smile ! 

DUET. Captain Canvas and De Rosier. 

Capt. C. Here is the lip that betray'd, 

De Ros. Here is the blue eye that warm'd ; 

Capt. C. Lips for bewildering made ! 

De Ros. Eyes for enamouring form'd 1 

Both. While on her features I gaze, 

And trace ev'ry love-moulded line, 
Capt. C. Memory weeps o'er the days 

When I fancied her faithfully mine. 
De Ros. Hope bids me dream of bright days, 

And fancy her faithfully mine. 

De Ros. Here is the glance that inspir'd 

Capt . C. Here is the blush that deceived ; 

De Ros. Glances too wildly admir'd ! 

Capt. C. Blushes too fondly believ'd ! 

Both. While on her features, &c. &c. 

De Ros. But come if you mean to be my de- 
puty, there is no time to lose Give me your coat, 
Capt. C. What! must I 


De Ros. Of course, my dear fellow (taking off 
Capt. C.'s coat) ; though the lady herself is as blue 
as indigo, your coat need not be of the same livery 
with her stockings. 

Capt. C. Where do you mean to hide my uni- 
form ? 

De Ros. Here behind this large History of Eng- 
land and I believe it is the first time that any thing 
naval has ever been kept out of sight by an English 
historian. Now put on this apron Does Lady 
Bab know you ? 

Capt. C. Never has seen me. 

De Ros. So much the better I have no doubt 
she will be taken with your scientific appearance 
and you may tell her you are versed in the Cannon 
Law, you know. Now for the books " God help 
" you, if she should take a fancy to read any of these 
" folios to you. 

" Capt C. I should never stand that Like a 
'* reprobate Quaker, I should be soon rtad out of 
i the meeting. 

" De Ron." There there's a hat for you, and 
pow be off. 

Capt. C. Thanks, dear De Rosier ; it is consoling 
to think, that tho' Love should break off one arm 
of Hope's anchor, there is yet another left for Friend- 
ship, upon whose hold my heart may rely. [Exit. 

(During this Scene, Capt. C. puts on De Roster's 
shop-jticktt, into the pocket of which De Rosier 
had, at the tnd of the Duet, put his own minia- 
ture Capt. C., when about to change^ lays his 
miniature on the counter). 


De &os. Poor Canvas ! Let me see (ap- 
proaching the counter) Hey-day ! what's this ? by 
all that's perplexing, he has left his mistress's minia- 
ture behind him, and taken away mine with him in 
his pocket. Hollo! hollo! (vailing after himjlt 
is too late to catch him, and this exchange of mis- 
tresses may he fatal to us both. But away with ap- 
prehension! 1 will not, this day, let one dark thought 
come n^ar me. Oh woman ! woman ! who is there 
would live without the hope of being lov'd by thee ? 

SONG. De Rosier. 

When life looks lone and dreary, 

What light can dispel the gloom? 
When Time's swift wing grows weary, 

W T hat charm can refresh his plume ? 
'Tis Woman, whose sweetness beameth 

O'er all that we feel or see ; 
And if man of heav'n e'er dreameth, 

'Tis when he thinks purely ojf thee, 
Oh, Woman 1 

Let conquerors fight for glory, 

Too dearly the meed they gain ; 
Let patriots live in story* 

Too often they die in vain. 
Give kingdoms to tho.-e who choose 'em, 

This world can offer to me 
No throne like Beauty's bosom, 

No freedom like servirig thee, 
Oh, Woman! 

SCENE III. Madame De Rosier's Cottage. 

Enter LA FOSSE. 

La Fosse. Diable t'emporte, you big bookseller 
* vid your tongues and your bacon and apres tout 
after all his Bacon turn out to be an old dead 
Chancelier morbleu ! and ven I tell him I vas 
Cook by gar, he begin beat me, as I do de youno; 
live pig to make him tender Ah! here is my mai- 
tresse and vat de devil old beggar-man she got vid 


Mad. De Ros. I am afraid, my poor man, those 
rude servants must have hurt you. 

Mr. Hart. They might have hurt me, Madam, 
had you not kindly opened your door and admitted me. 

Mad. De Ros. I am sure their master, whoever 
he may be, would have punished them for their rude- 
ness, if he had seen them. 

Mr. Hart. I do not know that, Madam there 
is such congeniality in the pursuits of modern masters 
and their servants, that we can hardly expect more 
civilization from the amateur coachman than from the 

Mad. De Ros. You seem to want refreshment 
sit down, and you shall have something (He sits 
down) Here, La Fosse bring this poor man some 
cold meat. 


La Fosse. Oui my Lady Ah ! dat is the way 
all my cookery goes (aside and exit). 

Mad. De Ros. You have seen better days, I 
doubt not. 

Mr. Hart. And so have you, Lady -if rightly 1 
can conjecture from those manners, which, like the 
ornaments of a fallen capital, maybe traced long after 
the pillar, on which it stood, is broken, 

Enter LA FOSSE (bringing in a Tray with cold 
Meat, fyc.J 

La Fosse. Here is de little beef for him Ah! if 
ma pauvre maitresse had de larder so large as her 
heart, de ugly malady of starving would be soon ba- 
nish from the world like the small-pock ( lays it on 
the table, and exit). 

Mr. Hart. My words seem to affect you, Lady. 

Mad. De Ros. I know not why they should 
'tis but a languor of spirits arising from ill health. 

Mr. Hart. (At the table, while she is standing 
forward.) I see it 'tis the heart's ill-health the 
pang of honest pride struggling with poverty. 

Mad. De Ros. (Turning round). Nay, prithee, 
eat, my good man. 

Mr. Hart. Thanks, Lady, I .am quite refreshed 
(rises) and now, forgive me, if I ask, how long you 
may have felt this illness under which you suffer. 

Mad. De Ros. Not very long and, in truth, so 
many have been my hours of health and cheerfulness, 
that I feel as if I had already shared' my full propor- 
tion of blessings, and can thank Heaven for the balm, 


that has been at the" top of my cup, even while I 
drain the bitterness that lies at the bottom. 

Mr. Hart. O Patience ! how thy smile adorns 
adversity ! (aside). You may think it presumptuous, 
Madam, that one so poor and humble as I am should 
venture to prescribe a remedy for the languor that 
oppresses your spirits ; but 

Mad. DC Ros. Alas! my good man ! 'tis far be- 
yond the reach of art even more refined than yours. 

Mr. Hart. Pardon me, Lady. During the wan- 
dering life I have led among the poor and wretched, 
and the various sicknesses of heart and spirits which 
I have met with, I have frequently witnessed the effi- 
cacy of one simple medicine, which, if delicately ad- 
ministered, seldom fails to remove at least a part of 
the pressure, under which the patient languishes. 

Mad. De Ros. Some village charm, 1 doubt not 
but I must indulge the poor old man (aside). 

Mr. Hart. There is a portion of it in this small 
bag 'tis what the old philosophers looked for in 
crucibles, and what the modern ones think they have 
found in paper-mills. Too large a dose of it is apt to 
make the head giddy; and, in some temperaments, it 
produces a restless itching in the hands, which requires 
a constant application of the medicine to that part 
When this symptom breaks out in certain ranks of life, 
the operation of the drug has been found to be ruinous 
to the Constitution. 

Mad. De Ros. (Smiling). It seems to be rather 
a desperate remedy you recommend me. 

Mr. Hart. No -Lady you may take it safely 


When prescribed by friendship or" humanity for the 
relief of those we " esteem or" compassionate, it is 
then indeed a precious balsam, whose cordial not only 
refreshes the heart of him who takes, but whose fra- 
grance long lingers on the hand of him who admi- 
nisters it. There open it, when I am gone and 
before it is exhausted, you shall be furnished with a 
fresh supply. 

Enter LA FOSSE hastily. 

La Fosse. Oh Madam ! Madam ! here is a gen* 
tleman have driven himself and his carriage into de 
ditch and de coachman and de rest of the inside 
passenger have been pull out of de window. 

Mad. De Ros. Is there any one hurt ? 

La Fosse. Only de gentleman's head a little crack ^ 
I believe mais le voici here he is come. 


Sir C. Curse that awkward post! caught in the 
forewheel and spilt me off the dickey Just the way 
in the House, tho' when a Member arrives a't -a post, 
he always vacates his seat immediately. 

Mad. De Ros. I hope, Sir, you have not suffered 
any serious injury. 

Sir C. Not much -Ma'am head a little out of 
order, as we say all owing to the spirit of my lead- 
ersGreys, Madam fine creatures Your Greys 
make excellent leaders in Opposition coaches. Ah! 
my old guager-that-is-to-be, ho\v d'ye do? Don't re- 
member me, eh ? 



Mr. Hart. Oh! yes, Sir you call yourself Sir 
Charles Canvas. (Madam De Rosier starts, and looks 
earnestly at Sir Charles.) 

Sir C. Call myself ! damn the fellow doubts my 
claim, I suppose (aside). 

Mao 1 . l)e Ros. It cannot surely be the same! 
( aside J 

Sir C. I say, my old boy, I have a little job for 
you Do you like job/ no getting on without them 
T shall want you, in a day or two, to deliver a let- 
ter for me to Miss Hartington. 

Air. Hart. To Miss Harting 

Sir C. Mum I have every reason to suspect that 
little Tory has taken a fancy to me. 

Mr. Hart. To you, Sir! (with contemptuous 

Sir C. To me, Sir! yes, Sir to me, Sir to 
Sir Charles Canvas, Bart. M. P. son and heir to the 
late Sir William Canvas, of JIuntborough Hall, Corn- 

Mad. De Ros. It is indeed the same the eldest 
son of my dear friend, Lady Canvas (aside J. 

Sir C. And, between ourselves, it is not impossible 
but the measure of an Union might be carried How- 
ever, say nothing about the matter at present as I am 
just now candidate in another quarter; but if I don't 
like the state of the poU, damme but Til cut, and be 
returned Member for Hartington (slapping Mr. H. 
on the back) . 

Mr. Hart. This fellow's impudence is intolerable 
(aside). But are you then so sure, Sir, of being ac- 
cepted by Miss Hartington? 


Sir C* Oh ! no doubt of it women can't refuse 

they'd never do for the House couldn't say no for the 
lives of them but mummy old fellow that's all 
and call upon me to-morrow at the boarding-house. 

Mr. Hart. I have no doubt, Sir, that the com- 
pliment, which you intend Miss Hartington, will be 
felt by her exactly as it deserves (significantly) and 
be assured no effort of mine shall be wanting to im- 
press her with a proper understanding of its value. 


Sir C. Well said, my old boy (Madame DC Ro- 
sier approaches) Ask pardon, Madam a little Secret 
Committee with my Honourable Friend in fragments 

Mad. De Ros. Not so secret, Sir Charles, as to 
prevent me from discovering that I have the honour of 
receiving under my roof the son of one of my best and 
earliest friends, Lady Canvas. 

Sir C. Oh! you knew my mother, Madam; aa 
excellent woman, as women go, certainly, 

Mad. De Ros. I knew her in Paris, when she was 
married, and was the only friend to whom she en- 
trusted it we were in the same hotel together when 
you were born. 

Sir C. The devil! she mistakes me for my eldest 
brother I don't quite like this (aside). You are 
wrong, Madam my mother vVas not exactly what you 
call married, you know, 'till she came to England. 

Mad. De Ros. Pardon me, Sir Charles 1 was 
present at the ceremony 

Sir C. Present ! Pm ruin'd like a lost Bill ne- 



gativ'd, thrown out, and sent to the pastry-cook's 
(aside) Yet stay I'm sate yet one witness won't 
do no no 'twon't do, Madam (turning round to 
Mad. De Rosier > he is caught round the neck by La 
Fosse, to whom, during Sir C.'s speech aside, Mad. De 
Rosier had whispered something) . 

La Fosse. Ah! my dear little Master Canvas 
bless my soul how vare often I have pinch you lit- 
tle ear, when you not dis high, and you squawl and 
squawl, and vish me at de devil! 

Sir C. I'm sure I wis-h you there now with all 
my heart what shall I do ? (wide.) 

Mad. De Ros. This faithful old servant, Sir 
Charles, was likewise at your mother's wedding. 

Sir. C. And what infernal 1 say, Madam, what 
strange fate has brought you both here ? 

Mad. De Ros. Upon my return to France last 
year, I found that my husband the Comte de Rosier 
was dead that his money had been all emlu-zzl^d, and 
his estates confiscated my dear son, Henry (whom 
you may have seen at the library) was the only com- 
fort left me, and upon his industry we now depmd 
for our humble, yet sufficient, maintenance. 

Sir C. So So the young emigrant at the library 
I have it (aside). Your son's name, you say, is 
Henry De Rosier? f takes out his tablets, and UTI 

Mad. De Ros. Yes, Sir. 

Sir C. Aged? 

Mad. De Ros. About one-and-twenty. 

Sir C. c Aged one and twenty -middle size* 
fajr complexion/ (writing). 


La Fosse. Ah de brave homme ! he mean to pa- 
tronage my young master! 

Sir P. Glad to have the particulars must send 
information to the Alien Office immediately 

Mad. De RJS. For Heaven's sake, Sir Charles, 
what is it you mean? 

Sir C. Your son Henry, Madam a very suspi- 
cious character must be got rid of unpleasant of- 
fice for me but must do my duty. 

'Mad. De Has. My unfortunate boy! what caw he 
have done ? 

Sir C. Nothing overt, as yet, perhaps but quite 
enough to be suspected of being suspicious. " Doc- 
" tor Shuffle-bottom and some dowagers of distinc- 
46 tion have long had their eyes on him he has been 
" caught laughing at a novel of Y r oltaire's, and has 
" even been seen to yawn over a loyal pamphlet of 
fct Doctor Shuffle-bottom's an incendiary quite! 

46 Mad. De Ros. Oh Sir ! I will answer with my 
" life that, whatever imprudence my Henry may 
" have been guilty of, his heart is in the right; his 
<c heart is always in the right. 

" Sir C. Very likely but we politicians have 
" nothing to do with the heart must send him ofT 
" and that ugly old sinner there with him." Shall 
go now, and write to the Alien Office. 

Mad. De Ros. (Kneeling.) For pity's sake, Sir 
Charles ! by the memory of your dear mother, I en- 
treat you. 

Sir C. I have her now (aside}. As to that, Ma- 
dam, tho > always rigid in my public duties, yet 
when so fair a petitioner humbly shcwcth, I am as 


easily moved as the question of adjournment (raises 
h er j and there is one condition upon which I 
consent to let your son remain safely behind his 

Mad. De Ros. Name it Sir name it. 

Sir C. Simply this that you never betray to man, 
woman, or child, the secret of my mother's marriage 
in Paris. 

Mad. De Ros. Though ignorant of your motive, 
Sir Charles, most willingly do I promise (trample 
without) and here is my poor Henry himself. 

Sir C. Does he know it? 

Mad. De Ros. I have never mentioned it to him. 

Sir C. Mum then that's all. 


De Ros. I have stolen one moment from business 

to tell my dear mother of my happiness What ! in 

tears, mother? and Sir Charles Canvas here? What 
is the meaning of this ? 

Mad. De Ros. Nothing, Henry, we were merely 

talking of some old (Sir Charles shows the tablets 

secretly to her, and checks her.) This gentleman i 
mean has met with an accident, at our door, and it 
has alarmed me. 

De Ros. There is some mystery in this, which must 
be explained to me La Fosse ! (La Fosse nods si<>ni- 
jicahtly towards Sir Charles, and exit.) Sir Charles ! 
I perceive plainly that your intrusion is the cause of 
this embarrassment, and, notwithstanding my re- 
spect for your eldest brother, Captain Canvas, whom 
1 have the honour to call my friend, and of whose title 


and fortune you have j (I will not say how gene- 
rously) possessed yourself 

Mad. De Ros. This, then, was the motive Oh, 
Henry ! (She is going towards him, when Sir Charles 
seizes her hand, and reads the tablets in an undtr 
voice to her). 

Sir C. ' Aged twenty-one middle size fair 
complexion y 

De Ros. Come Madam you must not stay here 
to be insulted Another time, Sir Charles, I shall 
know the meaning of your conduct. I did think, 
Sir, that you modern men of fashion, when coming 
to a domestic sanctuary like this, could leave your 
arrogance at the club, and your vulgarity at the 
race-ground but 1 find, that, in the circle of social 
life, you are as wzsplaced as monkeys in a flower- 
garden, having just strength enough to trample on 
what is delicate, and just wit enough to ruin what is 
beautiful. [Exeunt Mad. De Rosier and Henry. 

' Sir C. Hear him ! hear him ! That young gen- 
tleman has a taste for oratory would cut a figure 
upon a Turnpike B/// Flatter myself, however,! have 
muzzled the principal witness " and my brother, a 
" careless fellow, will never think of sifting the mat- 
" ter when he returns, but pocket the affront, and 
" away to sea again." As to fighting, my young 
Mr. Emigrant (for you seemed to give notice of a motion 
to that effect), before / fight, I must consult my con- 
stituents, as I hold it unpatriotic to do any thing 
without their instructions. [Exit. 

SCENE IV.- An Antichamber at Lady BAB BLUE'S. 

Lady BAB, and Capt. CANVAS in his Disguise, ar- 
ranging the Books in a large Book-case Miss 
SELWYN and DAVY the latter a little tipsy. 

Lady B. Come hither you stupid Davy and 
assist this young man to arrange the books Foh, 
fellow ! your breath smells like hydrogen. 

Davy. Hydergin gin gin (hiccups) Ecod. so 
it was gin, sure enough How well the old toad 
knows the smell of it! (aside.) 

Lady B. (To Davy.) Here put up these t\vo 
volumes of Sallust That is the Jngurthine, and that 
the Catalinc. 

Davy. (Spelling the letters on the back.) T. O. M. 
Tom, C. A. T. Cat, Tom Cat Come, I guess now, 
that's something deuced comical. (Spells the other.) 
T. O. M., ,1. U. G. Tom's Jug. Ah ! that's the 
laming, after all. 

Capt. C. One word with her will be sufficient 
Miss Selwyn ! Miss Sehvyn ! (apart to Miss S.J 

Miss S. Good Heavens ! is it possible ? Captain 

Capt. C. Be not alarmed, Madam I come not 
to interrupt your happiness, by disputing my brother's 
claim to that inheritance, which Miss Selwyn is so 
worthy and so willing to share with him I come 
merely to return this picture into your hands, and 
(what I cannot think you will regret) to bid you fare- 
well for ever ! [He returns to the book-case. 


Miss S. What can he mean ? < Worthy and will- 
ing to share his brother's fortune !' My picture, 
too, returned! (opens zV^ Yet no no can I be- 
lieve my eyes ? It is it is Miss Harrington. Oh ! 
this accounts for her confusion, when I mentioned 
his name her sighs, when she acknowledged that 
she knew him. False, cruel man! to insult me thus 
with the display of her love-gifts But Ml Oh ! 
that his brother were here now I could even do my 
heart a violence to be revenged of him. 

Lady B. Why, what are you about, young man ? 
(to Capt. Canvas^ who has been employed at the 
book-case.) You are mixing up my science with 
all sorts of rubbish Here's Thoughts upon Gravity 
on the same shelf with Broad Grins; and as I 
live! Sir Isaac Newton in the corner with Betsy 

Enter Sir CHARLES* 

Sir C. Oh, dear ladies ! I have had the saddest 
tumble off my dicky exactly such as happened 
to me last spring you recollect immediately after 
the s??ows and the Parliament had dissolved away, 
and the new Ministers were just budding into pa- 
tronage and majorities. 

Miss S. Dear Sir Charles, you alarm me beyond 
expression (affecting anxiety about him). 

Sir C. Dear Sir Charles !' Ho ! ho! She begins 
to trim, I find ( aside J. 

Capt. C. (Behind.) Perfidious girl ! 


Lady B. and Miss S. (On each side of Sir C.} 
No material hurt, I hope ? 

Sir C. Not much head a little discomposed 
but it was this that saved me (striking the crown of 
his hat) The Crown is the best friend to us M. P.s, 
after all But don't be alarmed, ladies I atn not so 
ill but that I shall be able to attend you to the 
Lottery at the Library ; and afterwards, if you will 
allow me, to Miss Harrington's card-party. 


Lady Bab Blue, Miss Schcyn, Captain Canvas*, 
Sir C. Canvas, and Davy. 

Capt. C. The last gleam of hope is vaiiUh'd now, 

Misery's night surrounds uie. 
Davy. I could read mighty well, if they'd just show 


But this printing like quite confounds m>. 
Miss S. The pain in your head, is it better ? oh tell. 
Capt. C. The pain in my heart who can tell ? 
Sir C\ C. Pretty well it may swell. 
Davy. 1 can spell very well F, E, double L. 
Miss S. Think, if aught should harm thee, 

How it would alarm me. 
Capt. C. Patience ! ami me, 

Let not angev warm me. 
Miss Sel. How I should deplore thee ! 

Tenderly weep o'er thee I 
Capt. C. None will e'er adore thee 

With the love / bore thee. 

Oh ! happier, happier he, 

Whose heart is cold to thee. 

* Captain Canvas, during this Finale, must keep as Ku i 
at possible, and appear carefully to avoid the eyes of Sir Cli 


Miss Set. } 

Lady B. V Oh! ha PPy happy we, 

Davy. ' ) Tb y safe return to see ' 
Sir C. C. I'm happy, Ma'am, to see 
Your kind concern for me. 
Cant C C ^ an Falsehood then boast of her power to destioy, 

- 1 And not even blush o'er the ruins of joy ? 

Miss H /^ an nearts l eave tne load-siar they used to obey, 

* And not even tremble in turning astray ? 
fDtny, who has been fixing books upon the shelves, lets 
large parcel of them, at this moment, fall about his earsj* 
Davy. Dang it ! what a clatter ! 

How my head they batter ! 
Capt. C. Booby ! what's the matter ? 
How the books you scatter ! 
Lady B. See ! you awkward lout, 

My ancients thrown about ; 
My wits all tumbling from above ! 
Davy. If laming be about 

As hard inside as out, 
'Twould soon get thro* my skull, by Jove! 
Capt. C-j 

fy > Farewell farewell to hope, joy, and love ! 
Miss H. J 


I 9 


SCENE. The Circulating Library. 

\VYN, Miss HAUTINGTON, SUSAN, and a motley 
Groupe of Persons, are discovered attending the 
Drawing of a Lottery, which LEATHERHEAD is 
busied about behind the Counter. Various Prizes 
are tying upon the Counter. 

SONG. Susan. 

A LOTTERY, a Lottery, 
In Cupid's court there us'd to be, 
Two roguish eyes 
The highest prize 
Jn Cupid's scheming Lottery ; 
And kisses too, 
As good as new, 

Which were not very hard to win, 
For he, who won 
The eyes of fun, 
Was sure to have the kisses in. 
Ckor. A Lottery, &c. 


This Lottery, this Lottery, 
In Cupid's court went merrily, 
And Cupid play'd 
A Jewish trade 
In this his scheming Lottery; 
For hearts, I'm told, 
In shares he sold 
To many a fond believing drone, 
AiuJ cut the hearts 
In sixteen parts 

So well, each thought the whole his own ! 
Chor. A Lottery, a Lottery, 

In Cupid's court there us'd to be, 
Two roguish eyes 
The highest prize, 
In Cupid's scheming Lottery. 

RECITATIVE & SONG. Leather/lead. 

Ladies and Gentlemen Gentlemen and Ladies Go not to Cu- 
pid's court; 

For (whatever the young woman may say) 'tis a place of very 
bad resort. 


But mine is the Lottery hasten to me ; 

Here's scissors and satires, as sharp as can be : 

Here's a drawing of Cork here's a cork-screw for wine, 

Here are pills for the cough and here's Gibbon's " Decline ;"-~ 

Here's a bright carving-knife here's a learned Review 

Here's an Essay on Marriage, and here's a Cuckoo. 


Our Lottery our Lottery 

Ye youths and maidens, come to me ! 

J Tis ne'er too late 

To try your fate 
Jn this our lucky Lottery f 


Leath. Thanks, ladies and gentlemen, for your 
attendance this evening Hope for your patronage, 
Madam (to Lady Bab) Have every thing in your 
way " that has appeared since Nebechudnezzars VV^ork 
" upon Grasses Clever book that, Ma'am. 

" Lady Bab. I cannot say that I have ever 
" seen it. 

" Lealh. Ton my soul, nor I (aside) ." Have 
got a new printing-press, Ma'am would be glad to 
have some of your Flights of Fancy Wish you 
could be prevailed upon to try your hand at a Battle 
Wonderful taste for battles now, Ma'am. 

Lady B. No wonder, Sir, when those indulgent 
critics, the Park guns, stand always ready to report 
the merits of such performances. 

Leath. Ha! ha! ha! Very sharp, Ma'am, very 
sharp. If you please to step this way, Ma'am, I'll 
give you a sight of my typographicals. 

[They retire. 

Miss Hart. I look in vain for De Rosier What 
can be the meaning of his absence ? (aside.) 

Sir C. (U ho is all this time paying his court to 
Miss Selwyn, and is repulsed by her in all his ad- 
vances). Nay, my dear Miss Selwyn " you change 
" sides as quick as an Union Member ;" just now, at 
your own house, you were so kind to me ! I declare 
it quite intoxicated me. 

Miss S. Did I intoxicate you, Sir Charles? The 
Spartans, too, occasionally made their slaves drunk ; 
but 'twas from any thing but love for them, I assure 


Sir C. What a tongue she has ! But Pll cough 
her doivn, when we're married (aside}. 

Miss Hart. I suppose, Sir Charles, you know that 
your brother is arrived. 

Sir C. My brother! impossible Madam im- 
possible He would not leave his ship to be made 
First Lord of the Treasury. 

Miss Hart. But to be made Lord of Love's Trea- 
sury ! (looking archly at Miss Selwyn, and then ad- 
dressing her) Come my dear you can tell us, 
perhaps, whether Captain Canvas is arrived. 

Miss S. How insultingly she triumphs over me 
( aside )-^- Really, Miss Hartington, time makes such 
changes in mind as well as features, that it is possible 
I may have seen Capt. Canvas, without being able 
to persuade myself, that it was the same I had known 

Miss Hart. I'll send to the hotels to inquire after 
him Perhaps he may be prevailed upon to join our 
card-party this evening. Sir Charles ! you have no 
objection to see your brother at my house ? 

SirC. Me! Madam! objection, Madam ! (con- 

fused) Afraid to meet the eyes of my brother ! 

Damn'd bad sign symptoms of a rotten Borough 
here, 1 iear (lays his hand on his heart) Must brazen 
it out, tho' (aside) Oh ! no Miss Hartington not 
the least objection My brother is well aware of the 
hopelessness of his claims, and will be happy, of 
course, to find that the title, tho' it has slipped off 
the higher branch, has settled upon such a promising 
twig as your humble servant. 


Miss Hart. Oh ! very well. Susan ! (beckons 
Susan, and exit with her). 

Lady Bab. (Coming forward with Leatherhead^ 
and giving him a letter.) You will be amused and 
edified by that letter 'tis from my friend, Doctor 
O'Jargon, the great Irish chemist, and you may read 
it at your leisure. 

Leath. Ma'am, you do me honour. 

Lady Bab. Come hither, niece (to Miss Sclwyn) 
I want to speak with you, upon a matter of much 
Importance to me. 

Miss S. This eternal marriage with Sir Charles! 
( aside. J 

Lady Bab. I want to ask your advice upon a 
grand literary 'scheme I have in view. 

Miss S. Heav'n be praised ! Even her literature 
is a relief (aside). 

Lady Bab. You must know I have been, for some 
time past, employed in writing a chemical Poem upon 
Sal Ammoniac. 

Miss S. Upon sal ammoniac ? 

Lady Bab. Yes, my dear, a poem upon sal am 
moniac in which, under the name of the Loves of 
Ammonia, I have personified this interesting alkali, 
and described very tenderly all the various experiments 
that have been tried on her. 

Miss S. This is what has been called ' enlisting 
Poetry under the banners of Science,' dear aunt. 

Lady Bab. Exactly so And now look on that 
venerable Chamberlain of the Muses there. 

Leath. What the devil are they staring at 
for ? (aside.) 


Lady Bab. That man, humble as he stands there 
unconscious, as yet, of the glory that is intended 
him that man shall I select for the high honour of 
introducing my Ammonia to the literary world. 

A'liss S. Happy man ! 

Lady Bab. And I will go home this instant and 
write him such an epistle on the subject, as will elec- 
trify him. 

J\/iss S. I have no doubt it will. 

Lady Lab. Sir Charles 1 had nearly forgot but 
there is a paper, which 1 have had in my pocket for 
you all day (giving him a letter) It concerns the 
subject nearest your heart. Farewell we meet at 
Miss Harrington's assembly. 

Leath. Give me leave, my Lady (shewing her out). 

Lady Bab. (To Leath.) Man ! man ! thou little 
knowest the honour and glory to which thou wilt be 
sublimated. [Exit Lady Bab, Leather/lead showing' 
her of.-] 

Sir C. Let's see what the old lady has given me 
here ( reads J ' Most scientific Madam T Hey-day ! 
'tis a letter, addressed to herself, and signed Corne- 
lius O'Jargon, Professor of Chemistry ' Most scien- 
tific Madam ! I need not tell your Ladyship that my 
illustrious countryman, the Honourable Mr. Boyle, 
was the father of Chemistry, and brother to the Earl 
of Cork. 3 What the devil have I to do with the father 
and uncles of Chemistry ? I, that am in such a hope- 
ful genealogical way myself! and this, she said, was 
* the subject nearest my heart !' (tearing the letter. J 
What's to be done? If my brother is arrived, 
and Madame De Rosier should find out that my 



threats against her son were mere bluster, 'tis all over 
with me. What shall I do? I'll try bribery I will 
They are poor, and a bribe will certainly stop their 
mouths " besides, it will keep my hand in, and 
" make me a more saleable article myself in future*" 
for nothing breaks a man in for taking bribes so 
effectually as giving them. [Exit* 

Miss S. (Who had btcn occupied among the bo 
at the back of the stage.) Alas ! who can wonder at 
the choice I have made ?. Even had Capt. Canvas no 
other qualities to adorn him, the very fame of his he- 
roism would be sufficient to interest me For we 
women, the simplest and tenderest of us, love to fly 
about a blaze of celebrity, even tho' we receive but 
little warmth from it; and the sage and the hero are. 
sure of us, whenever they condescend to be our suitors. 
Not that we have much concern with either their 
valour or their wisdom, for our pride is to produce 
the very reverse of those qualities which we admire 
in them to see the orator mute, the hero humbled, 
and the philosopher bewildered. 

SONG. Miss Selwyn. 

Oh ! think, when a hero is sighing, 

What danger in such an adorer ! 
What woman can dream of denying 

The hand that lays laurels before her ? 
No heart is so guarded around, 

But the smile of a victor will take it ; 
No bosom can slumber so sound, 

But the trumpet of glory will wake it, 

* I forget the words that are substituted for these in represen- 


Love sometimes is given to sleeping, 

And woe to the heart that allows him ! 
For, ah ! neither smiling nor weeping 

Have pow'r, at those moments, to rouse him. 
But, tho' he were sleeping so fast, 

That the life almost seern'd to forsake him, 
Believe me, one soul-thrilling blast 

From the trumpet of glory would wake him ! 

SCENE II. The Outside of the Circulating Library. 

Enter LEATHERHEAD (bowing off, as if returned 
from seeing the Ladies to their Carriage J. 

Leath. Charming notion she has of books! and 
of booksellers too, I flatter myself She would'nt 
have been half so civil to me tho/ if my fine French 
shopman had been in the way That fellow's young 
impudent face took off all the attention of the women 
from me But I've got rid of him pack'd him off 
" and he may now starve like a wit and a gentleman, 
" as he pretends to be" (takes out the letter Lady Bab 
gave him) Ha ! ha ! ha ! Bless her old tasty heart ! 
Only think of her giving me a letter from an Irish 
chemist and druggist, to amuse myself with Let's 
see (putting on his spectacles J. 

SUSAN enters from behind. 

Susan. I can't think what is become of Mr. De 
R US y My poor mistress was quite in a fright at 
not seeing him here Oh ! there's the old grampus 

Leath. (Reads J * / am determined that you 
shall marry my niece. 9 Eh ! what ! Impossible 

K 2 


it's a mistake. * / am determined that you shall 
marry my niece The girl's heart is set against it' 
Oh ! of course ' but, like the copper and zinc in a 
voltaic battery, the more negative she becomes, the 
more positive she'll Jind me Come early this em n- 
ing to Miss Harrington's, and ail shall be settled.' 
Oh! 'tis a mistake a mistake She gave me the 
wrong letter, 

Susan. Pray, Sir, may Mr. De Rosy he in the 
shop ? 

Leath. No young woman he's pack'd off 
gone to (turning away from her, wholly occupied with 
the subject of the tetter} Marry Miss Selvvyn, a rich 
heiress i Oh, it's a hoax a mere hoax. 

Susan. So it is a hoax indeed, if he told you he 
was going to marry any such thing La ! Sir he is 
not one of your marrying sort. 

Leath. And yet she said something about honour 
and glory that were in store for me 

Susan. But in earnest, good Mr. Leatherbead, 
what is become of the young man ? 

Leath. Gone to the dogs, I tell you kick'd into 
the streets Don't perplex me about him. 

Susan. Ah ! you hard-hearted old monster ! 
But I will pester you Kick'd into the streets! 
Well, in spite of the crockery Duchess, I declare I 
could almost cry for him And has the poor dear 
young man, then, nothing to live upon ? 

Leath. (Reading.) ' Copper and zinc.' 

Susan. Copper! Mercy on me! I'll go tell my 
mistress this instant Who would have thought it ? 

[Going out, is met by Davy. 


Davy. Why Susan, how plump you come up 
again a body ! I say (apart to her), just wait a 
minute or two here Now, do'ee I ha 5 gotten a 
letter to gie to the old book-chap here, and then I 
have something you know (cunningly) I have, 

indeed Come now do'ee wait, good girl 1 say, 

Mr. Leatherhead, here be a letter for you from Lady 
Bab Blue. 

Leath. What ! another letter ! (anxiously.) 

Davy. Ah ! you may well say another and an- 
other Nothing but write, write, and them pistles 
(as she calls them) going off from morning till night 
Ecod, she spells such a power of words in the day, 
that I only wonder how the poor old alphabet holds 
out with her. 

Leath. Bless me ! I'm in such a fluster, I can 
hardly read a line (reads) ' Dear Sir! I have made 
up my mind completely since I saw you, and my 
Ammonia, that treasure, for which so many proposals 
have been made, shall be put immediately into your 
hands.' Ammonia her niece's name 1 shall go 
wild. ' Her beauties have hitherto been the delight 
only of a private circle; but I have no doubt, that, 
upon her appearance in public, she will draw the 
whole world to your shop.' Oh ! damn the shop- 
I'll shut that up immediately I'll throw my wig at 
the stars I'll (capering about). 

Davy. Why the old chap is beside himself, for 


Leath. ' You, doubtless, are well acquainted 
with the history of this volatile creature' - Volatile! 


oh I no matter for that c this volatile creature, Am- 
monia, vulgarly called Sal by fAe apothecaries.' -Her 
niece called Sal by the apothecaries! What the 
devil does she mean ? Oh ! I suppose a pet name, 
which her friend, the Irish druggist, has for her 
but Pll always call her Ammonia Ammonia my 
dear Ammonia (throws his arms round Susan). 

Susan. La ! Mr. Bookseller one would think 
you want me for an apprentice you bind me so fast 
to you 

Leath. Let me see what .more ' As I can ima- 
gine your impatience to possess this treasure, call upon 
me this evening at Miss Hartingt&n's, and it shall 
be made your own.' Just what she said in the other 
note Yes yes Fll go I'll go (parades the stage 
consequentially) Oh, Leatherhead ! Leatherhead ! 
thou wert born under a lucky asterisk ! Shew me a 
brother-type out of Paternoster-row, that could 
smuggle himself into the copy-right of an heiress of 
two-and~twenty so neatly ! 

Davy. Well I'll be shot if there isn't something 
in this laming that turns every parson's head that's 
at all concarn'd with it, and I believe what the politi- 
cian at the ale-house said was true, that the war, and 
the taxes, and the rest of the mischief, all comes of 
your devilish Greek and Latin. I say, Mr. Leather- 
head, what answer am I to take back to my Lady ? 

Leath. Answer? Tell her that I'm ail rapture 
and astonishment that I am stark staring with won- 
der, like three notes of admiration and that I'll 
marry her niece, in the twinkling of a semi-colon. 


Davy. Marry her what ? 

Leath. Marry her what ? Her niece, puppy 
my volatile, but valuable Ammonia ! (half aside.) 

Davy. What ! you ? 

Susan. What! you? (both laughing at him. ) 

Leath. Yes, I, Sir yes, I, Ma'am- What the 
devil are you laughing at? (Strutting from one to the 
other. J 


Susan, Davy, and Leatherhead. 

Leath. Girl, dost thou know me ? 

Sus. Sf Dav. Oh 1 what a wooer ! 
Leath. Slave ! thou'rt below me ! 

Sus. Sf Dav. This wig will undo her. 
Leath. Oh! curse your grinning! 

Sus. Sf Dav. This lock so winning ! 
Leatk. Ma'am, if you giggle thus, 

And treat my wig ill thus, 

I'll let you shortly know who am I. 
Sus. Sf Dav. A handsome lover this ! 
Leath. You sha'nt get over this ; 

Sus. Sf Dav. This laugh will end me quite : 
Leath. Pray heaven send it might ! 

Sus. f Dav. Ha, ha, ha, hah ! hah, ha ! 

How the fool makes me laugh ! 

Oh! I shall die! 
Leath. But you shall weep for this fun by-and-by. 

[Exeunt severally. 


SCENE III. Madame De Rosier^ Cottage. 


La Fosse. Ah! tie barbare ! vat! he turn you 
out vidout one penny ! 

De Ros. Yes La Fosse dismissed me from his 
paltry service, without even a hint at the remunera- 
tion which he agreed to give me and 1 would st 
sooner than ask him. 

La Fosse. Ah ! oui starve yourself a la bonne 
heure But your poor moder ! 

De Ros. Yes, yes my mother ! Something 
must be done instantly the little sum we brought 
with us hither is exhausted, and J leaven only knous 
whither I shall now turn for a supply. 

La Fosse. (Looking at his sntiff-box.J Ah you 
little snuff-box ! I have hold fast by y^\\ lon^ ti 
when all my oder little articles wer.- pivsscd into de 
service of dis grumbling tyran here (hand on the 
stomach) I did tink de conscription would come to 
you at last. 

De Ros. What do you say, La Fosse ? 

La Fosse. Indeed, I vas cracking joke bad enough, 
Monsieur, upon my poor old tabatiere here and I 
vil go dis moment to the jeweller's, and try what 
I can make of him. 

De Ros. To the jeweller's ? 

La Fosse. Oui, Sare to sell this little box, which 


your good father gave me, and make the best use of 
his present by comforting his vife and child. 

De Ros. My kind old man ! I have never treated 
you as you deserved and so it is, alas ! with many 
humble hearts, neglected, perhaps slighted, during 
our prosperous moments, but which, when the 
darkness of adversity arrives, come forth like the 
sweet night-plant, and reproach us only by the fra- 
grance they breathe over our path, for the rudeness, 
with which we have, perhaps, trodden down their 
leaves in the sunshine. Keep my father's present, 
old man ; I will not hear of your parting with it. 

La Fosse. Pardon Monsieur but if I continue 
taking snuff out of silver, while my friend is in want 
of von shilling, may my gentleman-like rappee be 
turn into blackguard, and every pinch go the wrong 

De Ros. My faithful La Fosse ! But here comes 
my mother she must not know the extent of our 
distresses Women should be like those temples of 
old, from which words of ill omen were carefully 
kept away, 

Enter Madame De ROSIER. 

Mad. De Ros. My dear Henry ! what is to be- 
come of us ? 

De Ros. Become of us? oh ! every thing that is 
good and happy. 

Mad. De Ros. You are always so sanguine, 

Henry ! 

De Ros. And why should I not, dearest mother? 



I have hitherto steered so safely by the star of Hea- 
ven's providence, that, even while 'tis clouded, I trust 
to its guidance cheerfully ! 

La Fosse. Ah ! dat is brave boy ! and here is to 
your good health (taking a pinch of snuff ') A votre 
sante, mon petit bon homme! 

Mad. De Ros. But what is your present plan? 

De Ros. The money I am to receive from old 
Leatherhead will support us during my short in- 
terval of idleness, and I know a thousand situa- 
tions, in which willing industry, like mine, is sure to 
meet with employment In a soil like this, which 
liberty has fertilized, the very weakest shoots of 
talent thrive and flourish ! 

SONG.- De Rosier. 

Tho' sacred the tie that our country entuineth, 

And dear to the heart her remembrance remains, 
Yet dark are the ties where no liberty shineth, 

And sad the remembrance that slavery stains. 
Oh thou ! who wert born in the cot of the peasant, 

But diest of languor in Luxury's dome, 
Our vision, when absent our glory, when present, 

Where thou art, O Liberty ! there is my home. 

Farewell to the land where in childhood I wander'd 1 

In vain is she mighty, in vain is she brave ! 
Unblest is the blood that for tyrants is squandered, 

And Fame has no wreaths for the brow of the slave. 
But hail to thee, Albion ! who meet'st the commotion 

Of Europe, as calm as thy cliffs meet the foam ; 
With no bonds but the law, and no slave but the ocean, 

Hail, Temple of Liberty ! thou art my home. 



Mad. De Ros. Alas! La Fosse, he little knows 
the cruel perplexity in which I am placed the in- 
jured son of Lady Canvas is, I find, his friend ; and 
if my Henry were aware of our powers of righting 
him, his generous nature would forget every personal 
consideration, and expose him to all the enmity with 
which that unfeeling Sir Charles threatened him. 

La Fosse. (Who has been all this time in a reverie 
about his snuff-box, and not attending to her.) I do 
not like to lose my good rapp6e, either. 

Mad. De Hos. Oh ! that we had the means ot 
flying from this unlucky place, where every thing 
conspires to perplex and agitate me. 

La Fosse. If I could find de little someting to put 
it in ( aside ). 

Mad. De Ros. What are you meditating, La 
Fosse ? Does any thing occur to you ? 

La Fosse. Oui my Lady it occur to me that 
my rappee have not de true relish out of silver. 

Mad. De Ros. (Turning away.) Trifling old 
man ! 

La Fosse. And if I could find something (look- 
ing- round) A\\ ! I have de thought My Lady ! 
where did you put that little bag the old beggarman 
did give you to-day ? 

Mad. De Ros. I know not where I threw it 
and I must say, La Fosse, that painfully occupied as 
my mind is, it is cruel to trifle with me thus (sits 
down, much agitated) . 

La Fosse. (Still looking about.) Pardon, my 

L 2 


Lady Ah ! le voila (finds it) Come here you 
little bag I vil do you an honneur you little dream 
of (starts, and lets the bag fall) Diable ! vat is I 

Mad. De Ros. Why do you start, La Fosse ? 

La Fosse. Start ? Pardi I have seen de ghost of 
a fifty-pound note, looking as fresh and alive as if he 
just walk out of Threadneedle-street. 

Mad. De Ros. What do you mean ? 

La Fosse. It cannot be real mais I will touch 
(takes up the note) By gar, it is as substantial a fifty 
as ever Monsieur Henri Hase stood godfather for 
(shews it to her). 

Mad. De Ros. All-blessing Providence ! this is 
thy agency Fly, La Fosse, seek your master, and 
tell him what kind Heaven has sent us. 

La Fosse. I will, my Lady ; and I will pray by 
the way, that every poor and honest fellow may find 
as lucky a bag to put his tabac in. [Exit. 

Mad. De Ros. Mysterious stranger ! Now I feel 
the meaning of his words Thou art, indeed, a 
medicine for many ills (addressing the money) 
blest, if thou wert not the cause of still more But 
oh ! how many a heart thou corruptest, for the very 
few to which thou givest comfort ! [Exit. 


SCENE IV. The Street. 

Enter Sir CHARLES CANVAS, dressed for the 

Sir C. 'Tis too true this brother of mine is ar- 
rived Yes yes he thinks to throw me out 
comes to petition against the sitting Member but 
it won't do he'll find me as sedentary as the Long 
Parliament (looking out). Isn't that my ragged 
friend coming this way ? the very fellow to manage 
the bribery-business for me Nothing like an agent, 
a middle-man upon these occasions for your bribe 
ought never descend from too great a height, but be 
let down easily into the pocket. 


Ah ! how do you do, old boy ? how d'ye do ? The 
very man 1 wanted to meet. 

Mr. Hart. This everlasting fool (aside J. 

Sir C. I dare say now, my friend, old Hartington 
has so often employed you, as a sort of journeyman 
in his works of charity, that your hand falls as 
naturally into a giving attitude as that of a physician 
into a taking one. 

Mr. Hart. The art of giving, Sir, is not so very 
easily learned. It requires so much less exertion of 
thought to throw away than to give, that no wonder 


this short cut to a reputation for generosity should 
be generally preferred by the indolent and fashionable. 

Sir C. A pla;ue on this fellow's moral tongue 
What an excellent dinner-bell 'twould make in the 
House! (aside.) But, I say, my old fellow, my 
reason for asking is, that I have a little charitable job 
upon hands myself, which must be managed, you 
know, in a delicate way, and in which I mean to 
employ you as my proxy. 

Mr. Hart. I have wrong'd him then, and cox- 
combs may have hearts (aside). 

Sir C. You know the cottage where I met you 
to-day fine woman that rather passce, to be sure 
and so is her purse, 1 fear Exchequer low t you 
understand me. 

Mr. Hart. She is poor, Sir, but evidently has 
been otherwise ; and of all the garbs in Poverty's 
wardrobe, the faded mantle of former prosperity is the 
most melancholy ! 

Sir C. So it is quite like a collar of last year's 
cut exactly and I have therefore resolved to settle * 
small annuity upon that lady for her life. 

Mr. Hart. Generous young man ! what disinte- 
rested benevolence ! 

Sir C. You shall go this instant and settle the 
matter with her all I ask in return is that she will 
(to-night, if possible) pack up all her moveables, not 
forgetting the old black -muzzled Frenchman and be 
off to some remote corner of the island, where even 
the Speaker's warrant can't reach her. 


Mr. Hart. But wherefore this strange condition, 
Sir Charles ? 

Sir C. Why, you must know that respectable lady 
has a little secret of mine in her custody ; and as wo- 
men make but tender-hearted gaolers, I am afraid she 
might let it escape some fine morning or other. 

Mr. Hart. Ha! all is not right here (aside). Cer- 
tainly Sir Charles I shall, with all my heart, ne- 
gotiate this business for you but it is necessary, 
of course, that I should be better acquainted with the 

Sir C. True and the fact is (remember the 
Gangers' List, old boy,) the fact is, I have just come 
into a large fortune, which my eldest brother most 
inconveniently thinks he has a right to, and this lady 
and her servant are in possession of certain circum- 
stances, which um in short they must begot out 
of the way you understand me. 

Mr. Hart. I understand you now (warmly) 
tho' weak enough, at first, to believe that Selfishness 
could, for an instant, turn from her own monstrous 
idol, to let fall, even by chance, one pure offering on 
the altar of Benevolence ! 

Sir C. Heyday ! here are heroics ! why, what 
the devil do you mean, my old speechifier? 

Mr. Hart. I mean, fool ! that your own weak 
tongue has betrayed to me the whole trumpery tissue 
of your base, unnatural machinations, which if I do 
not unravel to their last thread before I sleep, may 
my pillow never be blessed with the bright conscious- 


ness of having done what is right before man and 
Heaven ! 

Sir C. Mr. Hartington, fellow, shall know of this 

Mr. Hart. Mr. Hartington, Sir, despises, as /do, 
the man, however highly placed, who depends upon 
the venality of others for the support of his own in- 
justice, and whose purse, like packages from an in- 
fected country, is never opened but to spread con- 
tamination around it ! 

Sir C. Why, thou pauper! thou old ragamuffin ! 
that look'st like a torn-up Act of Insolvency ^ how 
darest thou speak thus to a man of family and a Se- 
nator? Venture but to breathe another syllable in this 
style, and Til shew you such a specimen of the ac- 
complishments of a gentleman as shall (adraii, 
close to M)\ Hurling ton in a boxing attitude, when 
De Rosier, who has entered behind during tins last 
speech^ steps between them, and turns away Sir C.'s 

De Ros. Hold, Sir ! Is this your bravery? 'Twas 
but just now I found you insulting a woman, and 
now I find your valour up in arms against a poor de- 
fenceless old man ! Go go I said that you should 
account to me for your conduct; but there are per- 
sons, Sir Charles, who, like insects that lose their 
sting in wounding, become too contemptible for our 
resentment even in the very act of offending us. 

Sir C. Was there ever an M. P. so treated ? If 
this is not a breach uf privilege, then is the Lex Fur- 


liamenti a mere flourish a flim-flam ! Damme I'll 
send them both to the Tower ( aside J. 

Mr. Hart. Your pretensions, Sir 

Sir C. Order ! order ! spoke twice spoke twice 
Curse me if I stay any longer to be harangued by 
this brace of orators Better get off with a whole 
skin, tho' (aside J. Gentlemen my sedan-chair is in 
waiting to take me to Miss Harrington's, where if 
you, Sir, have any thing further to say to me (ad- 
vancing stoutly to De Rosier}, you will find me all 
the evening Safe enough in that dare'nt shew his 
nose there (aside J. 

Mr. Hart. One word before 

Sir C. No no you'll excuse me your attacks 
upon me already have been so very much out of 
order that they force me to throw myself on the pro- 
tection of the Chairman Chair \ Chair ! Chair ! 

[Exit, calling his chair. 

Mr. Hart. This conspiracy must be sifted to the 
bottom The lady of the cottage shall come to my 
house this evening Young gentleman, I thank you 
for your interference; and I pray you, let me know to 
whom I am indebted for it. 

De Ros. To one as pennyless as yourself, old 
man ! 

Miss Hart. Another claim upon me! Kind Hea- 
ven ! what luck thou hast thrown in my heart's way 
since morning! (aside.) And may I ask, Sir, whither 
you were'now going? 

])e JRos. To any place but home" there povertj 



" awaits me, and the forced smile, which those we 
" love put on, when they would hide their wants 
" and sorrows from us." 

Mr. Hart. Come then with me, and share tw// 
humble meal. 

De Ron. What, thine, poor man ! no no 

False pride ! thou strugglest now but I will 

tame thee ( ' aside). Yes, willingly, my friend, most 
willingly, and the more rude our fare, the truer fore- 
taste it may give of the hard lot that Heaven ] 
for me. 

Mr. Hart. Come, then, and the first toast over 
our scanty beverage shall be, ' May the blessing sent 
from the poor man's meal be always the sweetener 
of the cup at the rich man's banquet !' [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. An Antichanibcr at Mr. Har ting t oti 9 $, 


Lcath. Not corne yet how my old heart beats ! 
1 think this suit of my friend the Poet's does charm- 
ingly (admiring his dress) binding remarkably neat 
frontispiece (putting liis hand to his face) rather 
worn out, 1 confess but, when well gilt by the 
heiress's gold, why, a tolerable good family copy of 
6 the Whole Duty of Man.' Hist! here comes the 
old lady. What shall 1 be doing? looking over the 
books ? no curse it that's too much of the shop 
She shall find me in raptures over the last letter she 
sent me (reads it with ridiculous gesticulations J. 

Enter Lady BAB. 

Lady Bab. Ay there he is happy man ! quite 
saturated with the idea of getting my MS. into his 
hands. I perceive, Mr. Leatherhead, that you are 
pleased with the thoughts of possessing my Ammonia. 

Leath. Pleased, Ma'am ? I am astonished, Ma'am 
it has made me wild, Ma'am turned me upside 
down, like a Hebrew Spelling-Book, Ma'am. 

Lady Bab. I knew the effect it would have upon 
him (aside ) You will find, I trust, Sir, that not- 
withstanding the volatility of my subject, and the 
various philosophic amours in which Ammonia is 
engaged (he starts J, I have taken care that no im- 
proper warmth should appear upon the surface, but 
that the little of that nature, which does exist, should 
be what we chemists call latent heat. 

Leath. Ay true your Ladyship mentioned in 
your letter that she was a little volatile but, bless 
your heart ! that is of no sort of consequence it will 
only make herself and me the more fashionable. 

Lady Bab. You are not perhaps aware, Mr. Lea- 
therhead, of the discoveries that have lately been made 
respecting Ammonia. 

Leath. Discoveries ! oh ho here comes the se- 
cret of my getting her some faux-pas of Miss's, I 
suppose (aside) Why no my Lady, I am not 
tho j I confess, when you said the philosophers were 
about her, 1 did feel a little alarm for your phi- 
losopher, my Lady, is a devilish dangerous sort of 

M 9 


Lady Bab. Oh ! not at all dangerous, except when 
an explosion takes place. 

Lcath. Mercy on me! the morals of your women 
of quality ! (aside) But, with submission, my Lady, 
what may the discoveries be that have lately I 
made about Miss Ammonia ? 

Lady Bab. J\liss Ammonia! how well he keeps 
up the personification ! (aside) It has been found 
that a lively, electric spark 

Lcath. A spark ! ay I guess VI how it 

Lady Bab. Has produced a very interesting effect 
upon Ammonia. 

Lcath. I don't doubt it (aside) And pray, my 
Lady, where did this lively spark come i'rum ? 

Lady Bab. From the balltry, Sir. 

Lcath. From the battery ! av some young 
tillery Officer, I suppose but it can't be helped- 
second-hand book a blot or tuo on the cover but 
high-priced in the catalogue so better for me than 
a new one (aside). 

Lady Bab. What do you think the world will 
say of it ? 

Leath. Say of it, my Lady ! ah ! I dare say 
they'll be severe enough upon it. 

Lad i/ Bab. Nay there I differ with you To 
expose any thing so delicately brilliant to the rigours 
of criticism, would be what is called putting a rainbow 
into a crucible ! 

Leath. Well I hope not but I say, my Lady, 
1 think I have some reason to exMorj that, in the 
money arrangements betweeai us 


Lady Bub. Well, Sir? 

Leath. Why that some additional consideration 
will be made to me for the little flaw in Miss's cha- 

Lady Bab. Flaw, Sir! give me leave to tell vou, 
Sir, that the character of Ammonia has been kept up 
from beginning to end 

Leaf h. Oh ! I dare say pains enough taken to 
keep it up but patching seldom does and you con- 
fess yourself that your niece is rather you know 
(putiing his finger to his nose). 

Lady Bab. My niece, man what do you mean ? 

Leath. Oh ! I don't mean to say that it makes anj 
difference but you own that your niece has been ra- 
ther a comical sort of a young lady 

Lady Bab. My niece comical ! I am thunder-struck 
explain yourself, dotard, this instant 

Leath. Lord bless your Ladyship's heart, don't 
be in a passion for, notwithstanding all this, I'll 
marry her in a jiffey. 

Lady Bab. Marry her ! 

Leath. Yes without saying one word more of 
her flaws or her comicalness. 

Lady Bab. I see how it is his brain is turned 
with the thoughts of being my publisher ( aside J. 
Kxplain, idiot, if you can, the meaning of all this 

Leath. The meaning ! -Oh ! for shame, my Lady 
isn't here the letter you gave me in the shop soslily, 
pretending it came from a great Irish druggist ? (si* 
watches it from him and reads it} and here the other, 
brought to me not an hour ago, in which you tell m 


that I am to have Miss this very evening and that 
her name is Ammonia, tho' she is vulgarly called Sal 
by the apothecaries Oh, my Lady ! 

Lady Bab. 1 understand the blunder now ; and 
this is the cause of the brute's raptures after all, in- 
stead of triumphing, as I fondly imagined, in the 
possession of my glorious manuscript L>ut I'll be 
revenged of him Here, Davy, kick that impertinent 
bookseller out of the house. 

Davy. I wool, my Lady. 

Lady B. And teach the vulgar bibliopolist to 
know how superior is the love of the nine Muses, to 
that which is felt for mere mortal young women 
the former being a pure, empyreal gas the latter (to 
say no worse of it) mere inflammable phlogiston 


Davy. I wool, my Lady I'll teach him all that 
in no time (gets between Lcatherhcad and the door). 

Leath. I'm all in a panic! (aside ) By your 
leave, young man. 

Davy. Noa you don't go in such a hurry 

you come here, you know, to marry the young Lady, 

and it's I, you see, that's to perform the ceremony 

only, instead of Miss's hand^ you arc to have my 

joot, you understand me. 

Leat/i. One word before you proceed I don't 
much mind for myself, but I have got on a poor 
poet's best blue breeches. 

Davy. Don't tell me of a poet's blue breeches 
I must do as mistress bid me But come, you shall 


have a fair chance at starting too there now (glees 
.room for him to run past him). 

Leath. Bless me! bless me! that a bookseller 
should be obliged to carry a large impression of Footed 
Works behind him ! 

[Runs off, and Davy after him. 

SCENE VI. Lighted'Up Apartmenls, with folding 
Doors , within which are discovered Lady BAB, Sir 
CHARLES, Miss SELWYN, and Capt. CANVAS, at 
Cards Miss HARTINGTON standing by them. 


De Ros. Where am I ? It seems to me like a 
dream of enchantment, and as if this strange old man 
were the magician that called it up. He bid me 
wander fearlessly thro* these splendid apartments, and 
he would soon be with me I have seen nothing, 
as I passed along, but rich sparkling lamps and vases 
breathing with flowers; and I have heard, at a dis- 
tance, the sounds of sweet voices, that recall to me the 
times when I was gayest and happiest (During this 
speech Miss Hartington has come forward^ and is now 
close behind him, unobserved.) Yes, Emily Harting- 
ton ! 'twas in scenes like these I first beheld that en- 
dearing smile ; first listened to the tones of that gen- 
tle voice, which must never again charm my ear 

Miss Hart. Mr. De Rosier ! 

De Ros. (Starting ) Heavens! do I dream, or is 


it indeed Miss Hartington: Pardon this intrusion, 
Madam, but- 

Miss Hart. Oh ! call it not intrusion there is 
not, in this world, one more welcome (takes fits 
hand) Yet my father coming, and this company 
assembled how can I ask him to remain? (aside.} 

DC Ros. Allow me to retire, Madam ; I have 
been led into this awkwardness by a poor, but venera- 
ble old man, who is, I suppose, a menial of this house, 
and who invited me (Hesitating). 

Miss Hart. He has come with my father How 
strange, but oh! how happy! (aside. ) Then, you 
must stay I insist upon your staying 

De Rosier. (Turning aicnn, Init affected by her 
kindncsn.) No no r/a/r Miss Hartington! 

Sir C. C/FAo, daring fhe /</.' /itsf wfW.v, has cowf 
forward De Rosier stili let cps /tin htad turned tih-< 
What! Miss Ilartington, can any one be so stoical 
as to resist your solicitations ? Perhaps the gentle- 
man is going to another party a change of parly is 
f*ften very refreshing. " I rat sometimes in that \vay 
- myself." 

IMiss Hart. I must not let him perceive my agi- 
tation (aside). Perhaps, Sir Charles, yon will be 
more successful in prevailing upon him. [AY//Y<.v. 

Sir C. Ma'am, I'll second your motion with all 
my heart tho', after you, 1 can hardly hope to 
Pray (tapping De Rosier on the shoulder, who I urns 

De Ros. Well, Sir! 


Sir C. The devil ! this hectoring young emigrant 
>h my nerves ! (aside J Ah I took the hint, 1 see, 
and came after me but, you observe, there are ladies 
here, and Pd rather put it off till to-morrow morning, 
if you please, or the morning after, or any time in 
the course of the winter. 

De Res. Make your mind easy, Sir, there is not 
the least danger, I assure you ; of our ever being an- 
tagonists, unless by some fatality 7 should grow so 
feeble and defenceless as to tempt you to become the 
aggressor. [Turns away, and retires. 

Sir C. Thank you, Sir, very kind indeed What 
the devil right has this vapouring shopman to be here? 
must turn him out must turn him out enforce the 
Standing Order for the exclusion of strangers (Turns 
round to look at Captain Canvas and Miss Schei/H, 
who have been all this time employed in an explanation 
about the miniature, which appears to end amicably.) 
What ! my brother so close with Miss Selwyn ! urn 

this won't do (advances to them, and seems anxious 

to get him away from herjl say, my dear Captain- 
most happy, of course, to see you back from sea, but 
t;-ivc me leave to tell you that, in this quarter, / am 

the duly elected Representative, while you are 

'h contempt.) 

Capt. C. What, Sir? (firmly. J^ 

Sir C. Oh! simply the Returning Officer and 
a word in your ear (apart)** you have been so 
unlucky here, I think you had better try Old Sarum 
yonder (pointing to Lad// Bab). 


Capt. C. Brother ! you have robbed me of every 
worldly advantage, and Heaven, for its own wise pur- 
pose, seems to favour your usurpation but here I 
have a claim (taking Miss Selwyn's hand J, acknow- 
ledged warmly and faithfully, which never, never, 
while I have life, will I resign. 

Lady Bab. Why, niece, are you mad ? or can 
you seriously mean, Miss, to degrade the standard 
blood of the Blues by this base allot/ of illegitimacy 
and poverty ? 

AJiss S. You know already, Madam, what I think 
of the claims of Sir Charles (Sir C. advances smirk- 
ing towards her) that they are surpassed in hollow- 
ness only by his heart (Sir C. returns to his fornur 
place, disappointed} Capt. Canvas has been, in- 
deed, unfortunate ; but tho' Love is often as blind as 
Fortune, and sometimes even puts on the bandage of 
that goddess, in this instance he sees with his own 
warm unerring- eyes, and turns from the a 
changeling of Fortune, to acknowledge the l 
inline inheritor of his soul (giving her hand to Capt. 

Miss Hart. IIo\v perfectly my own feel ings ; if 
I could but dare to utter them ! (aside.} Hut, see, 
my father ! 

Sir C. Odso I'm quite happy have long wished 

to know your father, Miss Harrington ! Throicn 

out in the oilier must canra.i Jure (aside). 

JMiss Hart. I shall have much pleasure in intro- 
ducing you to him. 


Enter Mr. HARTIXGTON, in his own Dress. 

Mr. Hart. Now for the crowning of this sweet 
day's task ! (aside.) 

Miss Hart. (Leading Sir C. to him.) Father! 
Sir Charles Canvas. 

Mr. Hart. (Turning round. J Your humble ser- 
vant, Sir (Sir C. starts, and sneaks offMr. II. fol- 
lowing him) What! do you turn away from me? 
the c old pensioner* your ' gauger-that-is-to-be ?' 
Go, go, weak man When fools turn engineers of mis- 
chief, the recoil of their own artillery is the best and 
surest punishment or their temerity Capt. Canvas ! 
you are welcome we must soon call you by another 
title ; tho' heraldry can furnish none so honourable 
as that which the brave man earns for himself 
Mr. De Rosier, forgive me for the embarrassment I 
niust have caused you, by so unprepared an introduc- 
tion among strangers. And, daughter ! I have two 
more guests for your assembly, whom this gentleman 
(pointing to Sir C.J, I have no doubt, will recognise 
with no less pleasure than he exhibited upon being 
presented to me. Come, Madam (leads in Madame 
De Rosier and La Fosse J. 

Sir C. So, so I see 'tis all over with ma 
( aside J. 

Mr. Hart. This lady and her servant were pre- 
sent at the marriage of the late Lady Canvas, and 
will have much satisfaction, I doubt not, in being in- 
troduced to the rightful heir of the family, Captain 
Sir William Canvas. 

N 2 


Mad. De Ros. {'Addressing herself to dipt. C.J 
1 am happy, Sir, that it is in my power to pay a tri- 
bute to the memory of my friend, by doing justice 
to the rights of a son, whom, I know, she loved most 

La Fosse. (Running up to Capt. C.J Ah ! den it is 
your ear 1 have pincrTd so often Got bless my soul ! 

Lady Bab. So then, I find you are not Sir Charles 
Canvas after all ? 

Sir C. No Ma'am nothing but plain Charly 
Canvas, Esq. ; to which you may add M. P. till the 
next dissolution, 

Lady Bab. I declare that alters the result mate- 
rially ; and I begin to think it would not be alto 
ther wise to trust my niece's fortune to you : for 
tho' you are a lively, mercurial fellow, yet we che- 
mists know that gold, when amalgamated with 
quicksilver, becomes very brittle, and soon flies. 

Sir C. So then there's an end to all mij digni- 
ties ; and now that I am decidedly out, it is high time 
for me to resign Brother, I wish you joy and my 
Lords and Gentlemen (Ladies and Gentlemen I 
mean) for any other little delinquencies I have been 
guilty of, I must only throw mystlj on the mercy of 
the House. 

Mr, Hart. (Coming forward Kith a miniature, 
which has, since his last speech, been given to him, with 
some dumb-show explanation, by JMiss Sclwun and 
Copt. Canvas.} Daughter ! (with assumed severity) 
here is a circumstance, which requires serious ex- 


AJlss Hart. My father ! 

Mr. Hart. You gave this miniature, of yourself, 
to Mr. De Rosier ? 

Miss Hart. What! 1? Oh! never. Mr. De Ro- 
sier (appealing to hhnj. 

De Ros. No Madam you did not give it. I 
confess with shame 

Mr. Hart. Come, children your friends here have 
let me into a secret about you you love each other, 
and I rejoice, Sir, that my daughter's heart has anti- 
cipated mine in doing justice to your merits. Take 
her, and be happy ; and may the events of this day be 
long remembered as a source of hope to the injured, 
and of warning to the unjust of kindly omen to the 
faithful in love, and of sweet solace to the patient 
jn adversity! 


De Rosier. Capt. Canvas, Miss Selwyn> Miss Hart- 
ington, and Chorus. 

De Rosier. 

How sweet the day hath ended ! 
Ne'er yet has sun descended 
Leaving bliss 
So dear as this 
To gild the dreams of night. 
Chorus. Ho'.v sweet thedav hath ended ' c. 

Captain Canvas and Uliss Schcyn. 
The bright star yonder 
As soon can wander 

As J from tlice, 

A> thou from me. 

r//ori/5. How sweet the day, &c. 


Hope's rose had nearly peri-hM, 
No breath its budding cherish'd ; 
Hut one liour 
Ilatli \vak'd the flow'r 
In Love's own tenderest lij;ht ! 

Chorus. How sweet the day, &o. 


Printed by W. CLOW*.S, 
JSwrthumberlaud-cuurt, Strand, Lou Jan. 


TO ^ 202 Main Library 








Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. 

Books may be Renewed by calling 642-3405. 




3dt ^ wtf 

flirrn pi^r 

MAP o ? innn 

ww b I99U 



YB 72912 


M 5003