954 M824 cose IRLF SB 33b 062 " ^r OR THE BLUE-STOCKING, A CO.M/C OPERA, IN THREE ACTS, First performed at the ENGLISH OPERA, THEATRE ROYAL, LYCEUM, 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 : PRINTED BY W. CLOWES, NORTHUMBERLAND-COURT, FOR J. POWER, 34, STRAND; Of whom may be had the Whole of the Music. 1811. Entered at Stationers' Hall. Price 2*. 6d. PREFACE. 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 IV PREFACE. 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. PREFACE. V 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. \$. VI PREFACE. 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 equalled. THOMAS MOORE. ilury-strect, St. James\*> Oct. 9, IfJU. DRAMATIS PERSONS. 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. OB, THE BLUE-STOCKING. ACT I. SCENE I. The Beach Boats coming to Land. BOAT-GLEE. 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, B 2 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 out? 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 spare. 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 Newcastle. 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 6 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 3 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 Canvas. 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 vote. 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 9 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- wyn. 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. 10 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! 11 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 within! DUET. Miss SELWYN and Miss HARTINGTOK, '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 ! [Exeunt, Sir Charles (speaking without). Miss Selwyn ! your aunt has despatched me to say that (Enters} Miss Selwyn ! Miss Selwyn! This saucy heiress C 9 12 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? Enter Mr. HARTINGTON. 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 turning. 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- terly. Mr. Hart. It is true, Sir* I am dependent upon the master of this house for all the comfort and happi- ness I enjoy. 13 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 interests. 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 14 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 15 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. Enter Miss HARTINOTON. 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 ! 36 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, and 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 17 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 9 18 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/ SONG. 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 ! [Exit, SCENE IV. A Circulating Library. Enter LEATHERHEAD. 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 ! 'JO 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 me? 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 22 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 another. 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* 23 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. Enter Miss HARTINGTON and SUSAN. 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 Rosier 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. 24 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 misfortunes. 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 25 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/ 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. 31 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- 32 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- 33 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. Enter SUSAN and DE ROSIER. Susan. (Looking at a bank-note. ) Well, I pur- 35 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 mistress. 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 impatience). 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 36 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. Enter LEATHERHEAD. 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. 37 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. 38 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, 39 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 ? 40 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* 41 your conversation give me appetite enough widoutde walk. 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 G 42 r 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). 53 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 always rigid in my public duties, yet when so fair a petitioner humbly shcwcth, I am as 54 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 counter. 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. Enter DE ROSIER. 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 55 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 Canvas! 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. 57 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 Thoughtless! 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 ! 58 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. FINALE TO THE .SECOND ACT. 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 how, 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 59 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 END OF THE SECOND ACT. I 9 ACT III. SCENE. The Circulating Library. Lady BAB BLUE, Sir CHARLES CANVAS, Miss SEL- \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, RECITATIVE, DUET, CHORUS, &c. 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. 61 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. AIR. 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. CHQRUS. 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 62 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 you. 63 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 formerly. 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. 64 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.) 65 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 K 66 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- tation. 67 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 ! {Exit. 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 himself Leath. (Reads J * / am determined that you shall marry my niece. 9 Eh ! what ! Impossible K 2 68 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. 69 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 sartain. Leath. ' You, doubtless, are well acquainted with the history of this volatile creature' - Volatile! 70 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. 71 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 LAUGHING TRIO. 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. 72 SCENE III. Madame De Rosier^ Cottage. Enter DE ROSIER and LA FOSSE. 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 73 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 way. 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? L 74 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. \_Etit. 75 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 76 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 see? 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. 77 SCENE IV. The Street. Enter Sir CHARLES CANVAS, dressed for the Evening. 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. Enter Mr. HARTINGTON. 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 78 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. 79 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 particulars 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- 80 ness of having done what is right before man and Heaven ! Sir C. Mr. Hartington, fellow, shall know of this insolence. 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 arm.} 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- 81 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 M 82 " 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 $, Enter LEATIIERIIEAD. 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 fellow. M 9 84 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 (.aside). 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 85 Lady Bub. Well, Sir? Leath. Why that some additional consideration will be made to me for the little flaw in Miss's cha- racter 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 86 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 [Exit. 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 87 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. Enter DE ROSIER. 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 88 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 /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). 90 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. Canvas). 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. 91 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 93 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 tenderly. 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- planation. 93 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! FINALE. 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. Hartington. 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. I. NO OP THE OPERA. Printed by W. CLOW*.S, JSwrthumberlaud-cuurt, Strand, Lou Jan. 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