Front Cover
 Title Page
 Answers to charades
 Charade the first: In three syllables,...
 Charade the second: In two syllables...
 Charade the third: In two syllables...
 Charade the fourth: In two syllables,...
 Charade the fifth: In two syllables...
 Charade the sixth: In two syllables...
 Charade the seventh: In two syllables...
 Back Cover

Title: Joy, or, New dramatical charades for home performance
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015591/00001
 Material Information
Title: Joy, or, New dramatical charades for home performance
Alternate Title: New dramatical charades for home performance
Physical Description: vi, 1, 190, 1 p., 8 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: De Younge, Annemina ( Author, Primary )
James Blackwood & Co ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: James Blackwood & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: c1875
Subject: Charades -- Juvenile drama   ( lcsh )
Children's plays   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1875
Genre: drama   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Annemina de Younge.
General Note: "Fourth thousand"--T.p.
General Note: Illustrations engraved and signed by Dalziel.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015591
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002220278
oclc - 25193734
notis - ALG0467

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Answers to charades
        Page vii
    Charade the first: In three syllables, and four acts
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 8a
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Charade the second: In two syllables and three acts
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Charade the third: In two syllables and three connected acts
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 52a
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Charade the fourth: In two syllables, and three acts
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
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        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    Charade the fifth: In two syllables and three acts
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 106a
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
    Charade the sixth: In two syllables and three acts
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
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        Page 151
        Page 152
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        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Charade the seventh: In two syllables and three acts
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 166a
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
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        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

E RAI[ 6 Gi
~~ :E~~R~Ai.6;R

'' J~.Ci:'
r ~ -_g
~p~~-~ I








)ome tPerformanue.









Affectionatetv fonrribetr.


THESE Charades were originally written to enliven the
winter evenings of a residence in the country. So much
amusement was derived from learning and rehearsing the
parts, and preparing the dresses, and the representation
being very successful, the authoress was induced to think of
sending forth her various characters to seek their fortunes in
the world, hoping they might cause similar amusement in
other families of charade-loving boys and girls.

The authoress is aware that her scenes are longer than
those generally acted for Charades-this was by the special
desire of her company-" make it nice and long" being the
often reiterated request; nevertheless, it is supposed that the
"Words" are sufficiently prominent, as those which have
been performed were guessed at the original representation.

The scraps of songs introduced are upon well-known airs,
and will be found to have a good effect-some retain the


original words, and others are slightly altered to suit the
purpose of the scene.

As so much depends upon costume, it was thought that a
few hints might be acceptable. These may easily be varied
or improved upon by the taste and ingenuity of the per-

In conclusion, it is hoped that this little book will please
those for whom it is intended, and help to pass pleasantly
away a few hours of Merry Christmas time.









. Mis(s)-for-tune.

. For-give.

. Ring-let.

S. Com(e)-fort.

S. .Plain-tiff.

. Off-ice.

.. Mess-age.






LADY I3IOGENE.. ... daughters of a JIaron.
SIR ALONZO, surnamned THE
BRAVE . .. in love wit/. Ilogen2e.
COUNT LONGnow .... .. his rival.

THE two Ladies might be dressed in the old style; dresses
opening down the front to display a stomacher and under-
skirt-elbow-sleeves, rich lace, jewels, and a light, graceful-
looking mantle would also be appropriate for the garden
scene. For the Count, cavalier styl e-short cloak, hat and
feathers, ruffles &c., as gay as possible, and Alonzo must
look as much like a gallant knight as he can. Both should
have a moustache, either put on or corked. Very good
feathers may be cut in paper and curled with the scissors.
The colours worn by the different performers should contrast
as much as possible.

OVERTURE.-" When the Swallows Homeward Go."


SCENE.-Supposed to be in the garden of an ancient castle,
rustic chairs or a rout seat in the recess of the window,
or conservatory. Target at one end of the room. Enter
handkerchief to her face, appears in a stale of distress.

Ros. My dear sister, do not despair, you know I have
great influence with papa, I will go directly and try to
persuade him out of this whim,-depend upon it I shall soon
return with good tidings. [Kisses her, and exit.

Alon. Imogene my fairest !-Rosabel told me I should
find you here,-but tears why, how is this?
Imo. Alonzo we must part!
Alon. Part! Oh never! Tell me, what obstacle can have
arisen to stop the course of our true love?
Imo. You know Count Longbow?
Alon. I have seen him,-a frippery fellow, all feathers and
finery-who talks very big, and looks very small,-what of
Imo. Nothing less than this. The Baron, my dear, but
now very unkind papa, is, as you know, laid up with the gout,
and this Count Longbow has been very much with him,
amusing him with all sorts of marvellous tales about his own
exploits in foreign countries (of which Rosabel and I do not
believe one half), and having unhappily taken a great fancy
to me, he has demanded my hand of papa, who declares that
I shall marry no one but this same Count, and I am not to see
you any more i [The handkerchief again in requisition.


Alon. I will go directly to the Baron, and expostulate
with him,-how dare that fellow think of you !
[Is about to rush off, but is restrained by IMOGENE,
Ino. Alonzo, stay,-pray do not go now-the gout has
made papa so very irritable. Rosabel is with him, trying
what she can do-but I am afraid it will be of no use, I
entreated and implored, declared I would never marry any one
but you.
Alon. And what did he reply ?
Imo. (Sings).
AI..-" Villikins and his Dinah."
Go, go, boldest daughter," my father replied;
If you don't consent to be Count Longbow's bride,
I'll leave all my fortune away from my kin,
And you shan't reap the benefit of one single pin."
Alon. And not one single pin do we care for the fortune.
I have enough for both. We'll still be faithful-still be
Imo. I feel 'tis hard to say Adieu-but I cannot
disobey papa.
Alon. I know what I will do-find out this Count Long-
bow-quarrel with him-fight him-and put an end to him.
Imo. Oh Alonzo! pray do not talk so horribly-you
might be killed yourself.
Alon. No fear-I am more than a match for him.
Enter LONnGOW, advancing to IMOGENE.
Count. Light of my eyes! charming creature! fairest
Imogene [Sings.


AI.--" Lucy Long."
I 've just now asked your pap-a,
He says that you must wed,
And that to me, Count Longbow,
You shall be mar-ri-ed.
1.:c. (Sgs9.)
Indeed sir, I '11 not marry,
I think I am too young,
So please, sir, you must tarry,
For a long time, yes, very long.

Alon. (to CovNT.) Approach that lady at your peril, sir
Count-draw and defend yourself. [Draws his own sword.
Imo. (Rushing between them.) Alonzo, for my sake forbear.
Count. (To ALON.) Sir, I do not fight in the presence of
ladies, you shall hear from me at a more fitting time.
[Exit, bowing gracefully to IMOGENE.
Alon. (Sheathing his sword.) I don't believe the fellow
can fight.
Imo. Oh Here comes Rosabel.
Ros." Well, I think you will say I have used my persuasive
powers with success. Let us sit down, and I will tell you all
about it.
[IMOGENE and ROSABEL sit. ALONZO stands beside them.
Alon. Thanks, dear Rosabel, a thousand times.
Ros. Thanks Nonsense, do not think I could bear to see


my sister Imogene married to that ridiculous Count ? besides,
what would-you know who-say when he comes back, if he
found that she was not to have his dear friend Alonzo ? I should
have him fighting Count Longbow on your behalf.
Alon. Well then, tell us what you have done in order to
avert such a catastrophe.
Ros. I need not repeat all the arguments I used, but this
is the result. You know papa is very fond of archery, we
trace our pedigree from one of our ancestors who was knighted
after the battle of Cressy for his skill in using the crossbow.
Well, Count Longbow boasts that he can hit any mark, at
any distance, either standing, kneeling, running, or, Parthian
like, retreating, three times successively. Now papa has con-
sented that he shall be made to prove his skill here on the
terrace, the mark to be a left-hand glove belonging to
Imogene (Exhibits a glove she has in her hand), which
he is to shoot in the third finger, three times success-
ively; if he does that, papa declares that she shall marry him
to-morrow, but if he should miss once out of the three, he
is to wait one year,-if twice, two years,-and if he does
not hit the mark at all, he is to consider himself dismissed,
(To IMOGENE) and papa will then consent to your marriage
with Alonzo.
Imo. Oh suppose he should succeed !
Alon. I do not fear the result. I am sure he is only a
boaster. (To Ros.) When is the trial to take place?
Ros. Now, directly, and the prize being a lady's favour,
our wonderful archer is to take his position on one knee;
the Baron will be witness from the window of his room.
Ah there he is. (Looks upwards and waves her hand.) He is


quite ready, and here comes the Count, prepared with his bow
and arrows.

[Enter COUNT LONGBOW. Bows profoundly to the ladies,
but takes no notice of ALONZO.

Ros. Alor.zo, fasten this glove to the centre of the target,
and then measure the ground.

[ALoNZO obeys, indicates to the Count, the spot where he
is to take his position, and then retires to the side of
the ladies.

Ros. Before you begin, Count Longbow, I will repeat to
you the conditions, of which the Baron my papa, has already
informed you. The mark is yonder glove, which if your
arrows pierce in the third finger, three times successively,
the hand that glove belongs to, will be the prize you
win-if you miss once, the Baron decrees that you shall
wait one year, if twice, two years, and if you should miss
it every time, you are to resign all pretensions to the
hand of my sister the Lady Imogene. You will take your
position on one knee.
Count (bows). I quite understand. (Addresses IMOGENE.)
And, fairest lady, if I should fail, I pray you to believe that
only my great anxiety to win the prize could cause my hand
to tremble and my aim to be unsteady.
Alon. (Aside.) Ha! he knows he cannot do it.

[The COUNT then proceeds to lay his scented, lace cambric
handkerchief on the ground, drops gracefully upon
one knee, and aims the first arrow-it misses the


Ist Ch.rad,.


glove entirely-then ROSABEL, IMOG;::N;E, a(
ALONzo exchange delighted looks, and sing .'oc/k;-
AIR.-" Sin gig Lesson."
Bravo, bravo, well done indeed,
We thought if you tried you would not succeed.

[The COUNT frowns and stamps his feet,-aims the second
arrow with no more success than the first. ROSABEL,
IMOGENE, and ALONZO, again Sing:-" Bravo,
&;c.," and the third shot being likewise unsuccessful,
they exultingly sing:-

The trial is over, you have done indeed,
Count Longbow, we find that you cannot succeed.
Count (in a rage). I have been treated most unfairly,
but this at least I will have.
[Quickly advances to seize the glove, but is intercepted
by ALoxzo, who takes possession of it.
Count (to ALONzo, significantly). We shall meet again !
Alon. Yes, in new characters, I hope.
[Turns to IMOOGENE, and sings:-

Air.-"My Pretty Jane."
My Imogene, my Imogene,
Your tears I now can dry;
And smiles your face adorning
Will again enchant mine eye.


Then name the day, the wedding day,
And I will buy the ring,
The lads and maids in favors white
And the village bells, the village bells shall ring.
[Merry peal of bells heard, from the piano.

Ros. Hark the bells are ringing now, and papa beckons.
(Looking upwards to an imaginary window.) Come, let us
go into the Castle.
[Exunet Omnes.




MRS. NEEDLE . milliner, who lets apartments.
Miss JULIA SMITH first-floor lodger.
Miss ARABELLA SMITH ., second-floor lodger.
BARNABY e e .. errand-boy to Mrs. Needle.


OVERTUE.--"I love my love in the norn;iiy."

ScENE.-Interior of a milliner's shop, represented by various
bonnets and caps upon stands.
Enter lRs. NEEDLE.
Mrs. N. (Arranges the bonnets.) I think both my lodgers
must be expecting some Valentines this morning, they are
stationed at the windows, evidently watching for the post-
man, with their doors wide open, ready to rush down when
he comes in. He is very late. (Looks out of the window.)
I don't see him any where-can he have passed? I wonder
whether either of them will have a Valentine. (Takes up a
bonnet, surveys it admiringly, and whilst speaking puts it care-
fully in a band-box.) Well, though I say it, that shouldn't,
this is a remarkably sweet bonnet. Take it for all in all,
I ne'er have looked upon its like before." It must raise my
reputation; any one can see it has been formed by the hand
of taste. I do hope Miss Wiggins's face will become it,-it
will be a thousand pities if she does not shew it off to
advantage. That boy of mine has not come back yet, of
course, just because I want him. (Goes. to the window.)
Why, there he is playing at marbles, as usual, whenever he
can get an opportunity.
[Goes to the door, and calls BARNABY.
Mrs. N. You tiresome boy, why didn't you say you had
come back? You ikow I told you I had plenty for you to
do to-day.


Bar. Please, mum, you said as how I mustn't be more than
Lalf an hour gone, and I run all the way, so I wasn't no
pore than a quarter of a half, and I thought I might have
the other quarter to myself for a little reckerryation.
Mrs. N. Recreation, indeed What next, I wonder ? You
know very well it is more than an hour since I sent you
to Rosemary Villa. Take this band-box and carry it care-
fully to No. 37; say it is for Miss Wiggins.
Bar. (Taking the box). Yes, mum, I'll carry it very care-
fully,just as how I always does.
Mrs. N. Now mind, you are not to run with it and knock
it about.
Bar. All right mum, only I must run back, 'cos as how
"I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls" last night, and
didn't it just give me a chill. I aint got warm yet. [Exit.
Mrs. N. That boy has had too much education; he'll
either rise in the world, or go down in it, or be nothing better
than an errand boy all his life, as sure as my name is Mrs.
Matilda Muslin Needle. Recreation, indeed that comes
of teaching the lower class to read and write, for as that
sensible old lady, Mrs. Darning Needle very rightly observes,
it fills their heads up with ideas that would not otherwise
have got into them. Oh gracious there's that cap for
Mrs. Jones. (Sits down hastily and takes qup an flihl d
cap.) Must be done by twelve o'clock-that is, it must if it
can, and I don't see how it can, so it can't. (Puts the cap down
again, and goes to the window.) How is it possible for one's
fingers to be working, when one's eyes are required to look for
the postman, and one's thoughts are all about letters, and those
kind of things. Oh, here he comes at last! And singing, posi-


tively as if it was of no consequence to him whether people
were in a hurry or not. [A voice heard, singing.
AIR.-" We won't go home till morning."
I shan't get home this morning,
I shan't get home this morning,
I shan't get home this morning,
It plainly doth appear.

Enter POSTMAN, with a bag, and a large packet of letters.
Post. I am an hour behind time already, and not half
done. (Reads.) "Miss Smith, at Mrs. Needle's, 24, Para-
dise Row."
Mrs. N. Give it to me-make haste, there's a good post-
Post. Stop a bit, Mrs. Needle. Does Miss Smith lodge
Mrs. N. Oh yes! I've two Miss Smiths, one in the first-
floor, and one in the second,-and very nice apartments they
are for single ladies. (Quickly, without a stop.) Fine open
airy situation beautiful view of the sky on a clear day nice
clean pavement in front and a large drying ground at the
back-terms moderate no extra charge for any thing every
thing being included in everything.
Post. (Impatiently.) Never mind the apartments. Did you
say two Miss Smiths?
Mrs. N. Yes, the first-floor is Miss Julia, and the second-
floor is Miss Arabella,-which of them is it for?
Post. That is more than I can tell you; it only says,
"Miss Smith, at Mrs. Needle's." Now you know one Miss
Smith is just as much Miss Smith as the other Miss Smith,


and one Miss Smith is just as much at Mrs. Needle's as the
other Miss Smith is at Mrs. Needle's.
Mrs. N. No, not nearly as much-the-first-floor goes out
a great deal oftener than the second.
Post. (Rubbing his forehead.) It's a puzzler.
Mrs. N. I wonder if it is a Valentine-give it to me.
[Holds her hand to take it.
Post. (Withholding it from her.) Mrs. Needle, you are a
specimen of feminine curiosity; if I had known you wished
so much for a Valentine, I would have sent you one, and
brought it myself.
Mrs. N. Mr. Postman, you are impertinent this morning !
As if I cared for such trumpery things as Valentines-as if I
hadn't got heaps and heaps of beauties piled up in a cupboard,
that I had sent to me before I married my poor, dear,
departed Peter Packing Needle! (Heaves a sigh.) I am
sure there is nothing half so sweet and flowery in your bag
as one I had sent me, about-

The Rose is red, the Violet's blue,
Carnation's sweet and-

Enter BARNABY, interrUpts her.
Bar. Please mum, Miss Wiggins wants to know what the
postman is stopping here so long for-she has been watching
for him these two hours.
Post. Tell her, I'm detained by "urgent private affairs,"
but I was just a-coming. [Exit BARNABY.
Post. Well Mrs. Needle, they must settle it between


Mrs. N. I don't want to touch it. (:'..- ,. away.) Here
comes my first-floor-I dare say it is for her.

Miss J. S. (To POSTMAx.) I am Miss Smith. Is there a
letter for me ?
Post. Well, ma'am, there is a letter, but I can't tell
whether it is for you, as I understand there are two Miss
Smiths in the house.
Miss J. S. Oh I have no doubt it is for me, I-expected
a letter this morning. [Holds out her hand for it.

Miss A. S. And so do I. (To POSTMAN.) I am Miss Smith.
Is there not a letter for me ?
Post. (To Miss J. S.) Do you know the writing, ma'am?
[Shews her the letter.
Miss J. S. Certainly I do, it is my cousin's hand, dis-
Miss A. S. (To Miss J. S.) And pray ma'am, how do
you know it if it is disguised ?
Miss J S. I know it by the curl of the "M."
Post. (To Miss A. S.) Do you know the writing ma'am ?
[Shews her the letter.
Miss A. S. Of course I do, it is for me, from-Adolphus; I
should know his S's" amongst a thousand.

Bar. Postman, Miss Wiggins says, if you don't go on
delivering the letters directly, she '11 report you !


Post. Report me-will she? Then I must be off like a
shot, or there will be a blow-up. [Exit BARNABY.
Post. Well, ladies, I must leave this letter between you; I
can't do any fairer.
[Holds forth the letter. Miss A. and Miss J. each seize
an end. [Exit POSTMAN, singing, I shan't get
home this morning," &c.
Miss J. (To Miss A.) Will you have the goodness to
deliver up my property, ma'am, [ Gives the letter a tug.
Miss A. (To Miss J.) Will you be so kind as to leave go
my property, ma'am? [Also gives the letter a tug.
Mrs. N. Ladies, will you allow me to be umpire ? I shall be
most happy to open the letter and tell you what name is inside.
Both (Indignantly). Certainly not ma'am, no one shall
open my letters but myself.
[Each give another tug, which tears the letter in half, to
their mutual consternation.
Miss J. (To Miss A.) Mostunlady-like behaviour !
[Unfolds the piece left in her hand.
Miss A. (To Miss J.) There are such things as actions for
damages, remember, ma'am! [Unfolds her piece.
[As soon as they see the inside, they each throw their
piece indignantly to the other, exclaiming.
Both. Take your rubbish, ma'am, I am sure it was never
meant for me. [Exit one after the other, singing.

AIR.-" Cavalier."
For that Valentine, that Valentine, it never was meant
for me.


Mrs. N. Now I can have a peep. (Picks up the pieces
andputs them together.) Oh What an ugly thing-a com-
mon penny Valentine-yellow bonnet, green dress-with
one, two, three, seven flounces, and such a crinoline-no
wonder they would neither of them own it. I wonder wlich
of them it was really meant for. Well, that's over; now to
business. [Exit, calling BARNABY.




ADA . .... Two lady friends living
IDA . 5 together.

The Spirit may be represented by either a girl or young
boy. The dress should be of flowing white tarlatan, muslin,
or net, over azure blue, or blue over white, confined at the
waist with a silver band or girdle, arms bare, silver wand, a
silver circlet round the head, with a bright star on the fore-


OVERTURE.-" We have lived and loved together."

SCENE.-Table with books and fancy-work-two lounging
chairs-a flower-stand filled with plants, a parrot and
canary in cages, a cai upon the hearth-rug.

Enter ADA and IDA together.
Ida. My dearest friend, let's make a vow,
Always to live as we do now,
With no one but ourselves to please,
No one to trouble us, or tease.
Our birds and plants-your dog-my cat,
Ada. Which, by the by is very much too fat.
Ida. I'm sure she's not, so beg you won't say that
I wish we always could agree,
We then should live in perfect harmony.
Ada. Instead of standing, let us sit at ease, [They sit.
And think about our dinner, if you please.
We nothing in the house have got,
And so to day we must have something hot.
Ida. A pair of soles I think, our dinner might begin,
And after that, rump-steak, cut delicately thin.
Ada. Cut thick, you mean, with onions, or perhaps with
oyster sauce,
The soles with egg and bread crumbs must be
fried, of course.
Ida. Fried fish, you know I really can't endure,
We'll have them boiled, that will be better far, I 'm


Ada. Boiled soles! Absurd! We'll have them fried, I
Ida. No, no, I am-resolved they shall be cooked my way.
Ada (Rising). Then you may dine alone, you're contrary
to-day. [Exit.
Ida. There,-now I' ve quarrelled with my dearest
But still, it was her fault, however it may end.
I wish I knew some charm to keep all discord out,
But I may wish in vain, I've not the slightest
The most harmonious instruments don't always
keep in tune.
And no one thinks of wondering at a thunder-storm
in June.
[Rises, walks up and down in a disturbed manner.

My thoughts I can't control,
Myself I can't console,
I 'i pass the matter by.
My sorrows to assuage,
I'll dip into a page
Of true philosophy.

[Seats herself, takes up a book.

Shakespeare! My friend! to thee, to thee, I fly,
I'll read, I 11 read,-Oh This will just apply:
To boil or not to boil, that is the question."
[After a short pause, closes the book.
19 c 2


My attention to fix, I endeavour in vain,
I fear this dispute has disordered my brain.
Concord Oh Concord come to us again.

[Soft music heard. Ain.-"Auld Lang Syne," frIo
the piano.
Ida (Looking round astonished). What sounds are those
I hear-from whence that soothing strain ?

[Spirit of Concord appears from behind the wu'dow-
curtains, or from a conservatory, having been pre-
viously hidden from the audience. Stands before her.

Ida (Starting). A vision surely I am dreaming now-
Speak, I implore thee Who and what art thou?
Spirit. At thy call I quickly came,
Spirit of Concord is my name.
Harmony I can restore,
List to the tune you heard before.

[Music again heard. Spirit makes gentle movements
with wand.
Ida. Exquisite air it soothes me more than I can tell.
Spirit. Then safely in thy memory let it dwell,
And when disputes arise-remember what I say,
You've but to sing that tune-they'll gently die
away. [Vanishes.
Enter ADA.
Ada. I hard a voice, what stranger has been here?
[I-. is in a meditative attitude, and does not answer.


I think you might answer me, and not sit silent there.

[Takes up a book, and seats herself with her back to her

Ida (Aside). That magic tune I hope I recollect,
Its wondrous powers to shew, I'll try direct;
I hope with all my heart 'twill take effect.
[Sings softly a few bars of any tune but the right one.
Ada (Looking round). Singing indeed excessively polite,
I think you've taken leave of manners quite.
Ida. In vain, in vain !
I'll try again.
[Sings a few bars of another tune.

Ada (Starting up). I will not stay here, to be treated so
What would you do without me, I should like to know?
[Resumes her seat, with handkerchief to her eyes.

Ida. All wrong, all wrong,
Twas only my new song,
Good Spirit, help me, help me, pray,
Your magic tune has flown away.

[Spirit appears between them. Music heard as before.
ADA slowly rises and advances to IDA.
Ada. We are not going to quarrel, are we, dear?
Twas something very like it though, I fear,
I'11 say no more my love about the fish,
They shall be cooked exactly as you wish.


Ida. No, no, indeed, I will not selfish be,
One shall be fried for you, the other boiled for me.
The sole and only cause of our dispute is o'er-
In Harmony and Peace we'll live henceforth for

[They join hands and sing, accompanied by the paino,
the first verse of Auld Lang Syne."
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind,
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne.
We 'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my friends,
For auld lang syne,"




MADAME MELPOMENE directress of a theatre and
advocate for the rights
of women.
PENSOROSO .. prima donna.
TRTLLO .... .page to Madame.

Madame Melpomene, full dress, opera cloak and fan. The
Prima Donna according to taste, rather n6glig6. The Signora
might have a black veil on her head, in the Spanish style.
Monsieur, black suit and white waistcoat, moustache and
imperial. Page in fancy dress livery. A Footman might be
substituted for the Page.
OVERTURE.-" Oh no we never mention her," and "All is
lost now."

ScENE.-Drawing-room, easy-chair or couch, table with sheets
of manuscript music, opera glass, and bouquet of flowers.


Madame. I am really ready-the hour draws nigh-the
great event of my life is at hand-be still, my heart-I wdzl
be calm. (Sinks ito an easy-chair, and fans herself.) One
quiet half hour 1 may have-and then-(Rings a bell. Page
appears.) Trillo, order the carriage to be at the door precisely
at seven, and remember I am at home to no one-on no
account will I be disturbed.
Trillo (Bowing low). Madame, your commands shall be
obeyed. [Exit TRILLO.
[MADAME rises, paces the room, speaks thoughtfully,
and gradually emvhaticallv.

Madame. Yes-the hour draws nigh. To-night it will be
known that I, Madame Melpomene, Directress of the Royal
Imperial Anglais Frangais Theatre, am also the author and
composer of the most sublime opera of the season! A
proud and responsible position for an unprotected female !-
but why should not women write operas ?-why should not
they play their part on the world's stage? Why should
not I rank with Balfe, with Rossini, with Donizetti, with
Verdi? Why should not my opera be as well known as
Traviata, Trovatore, or Sakanella ? In Satanella, is depicted
the Power of Love."-I shew Love conquered by the Power
of Ambition. There are lady Doctors of Medicine,-why
should we not, by degrees, take degrees in all the Arts and
Sciences ? Courage, "faint heart never won fair lady," name,
fame, and fortune. (Resumes her seat.) Let me imagine the
scene,-the curtain falls amid thunders of applause, loud


cries for "The Author," are heard. I appear before the
curtain, a shower of bouquets cover the stage, and from
henceforth I am known as the celebrated Madame Melpo-
mene! I am warm, the room seems unusually small and
close. (Fans herself violently, and rings a bell.) Enter
TRILLO. Some water, Trillo, bring me a glass of water.
Trillo. Yes, Madame, instantly.

[Quickly brings a glass of water on a silver salver, and
presents it to her, then exit. MADAME drinks a little,
and proceeds in a disturbed manner.

Madame. I have but one cause for uneasiness,-thatfemale
who has hitherto so continually persecuted me, but I think I
am too near the height of my ambition, for her to cast me down
now. (Takes up the music and turns it over.) It must be
successful! My Prima Donna, Mademoiselle Rosalinda
Penseroso, has a most splendid voice; I only wish she was a
little more amiable; she gives herself more airs off the stage
than I have given her upon it. My tenor is faultless, he will not
disappoint me-I flatter myself that my firstviolin, Monsieur
Scr6piscrapp6, will astonish the public, and throw Wieniawiski
completely into the shade. I am glad I engaged Signora
Varsoviana, her appearance will be very effective in the
last scene. (Piano suddenly strikes up Old dog Tray," or
some such tune. MADAME puts her hands to her ears, and
exclaims). Oh that horrid street organ, my nerves will not
bear it. (Rings violently. TBILLO appears.) A smelling bottle,
Trillo, quick, or I shall be ill. (TRILLO rushes to the mantel-
piece for a smelling bottle. MADAME takes it hastily from him :


exclaiming.) Run and give that man a halfpenny to go in the
next street-directly, mind, or I shall be distracted.
Trillo. I will, Madame, directly-I'll give him one, or
two, or even three half-pence, if he won't go without. [Exit.
Madame. Oh! if I was but in parliament, my first bill
should be to abolish this nuisance-Oh my poor head.
(Music stops abruptly, then in i e next street-that is to say,
softly plays-" Still so gently o'er me stealing.") "IMemo'ry
does bring back the feeling," indeed that horrid organ
has quite upset all my organs, unstrung my nerves, and shaken
my firmness; I feel as if I were about to have another visit
from that female. I wish I could say to her the dagger or the
bowl;" she always puts an end to everything I undertake, and
now, even now, I fear-(Tap at the door. MADAME in a startled
tone.) Ha Who is that knocking at the door ?

Trillo. If it please you, Madame, there is a lady down stairs
who says she must see you.
Madame (Angrily). It does not please me-did I not tell
you to admit no one?
Trillo. Yes, Madame, but the lady said she was sure you
would see her when you heard her name.
Madame. Her name what is it ?-Trillo, quickly tell.
Trillo (Putting his hand to his forehead). Indeed, Madame,
it is such a long one, that I think I must have left a
syllable on every stair as I came up,-it was something about
roses and posies, and the First Primer-shall I go and ask her
again, Madame?
Madame. No, stay-" Roses, posies, Primer"-I believe it


is Rosalinda Penseroso, that tiresome Prima Donna-what
can she want! (In a resigned tone.) Shew her up, Trillo.
(Exit TRILLO. MADAME, in a tone of despair.) It is of no use
struggling against destiny, my star will never be in the
ascendant; wherever I go, misfortune follows me. (Enter
meet her.) Excuse me, mademoiselle, if I am rather alarmed
by your visiting me at this hour, I thought you would be
dressing for the theatre, but pray take a seat. [They sit.
Madmle. R. P. (In a die-away tone.) I came to tell you,
Madame, that I find I have a very bad cold coming on. (Gets
up a small cough.) 1 could not therefore do such, injustice to
my voice as to attempt to sing this evening, consequently the
performance must be put off, unless, indeed, you can provide
yourself with another Prima Donna.
Madame. Put the performance off! why the doors will be
open in half an hour! Provide myself with another Prima
Donna at a moment's notice Mademoiselle, you must be
mad! !
Mladmle. R. P. (Quietly.) Pray don't excite yoursdf
Madame; what cannot be cured must be endured.
Madame. I must be strong minded indeed to endure this;
but I thought what was coming. That horrid street organ
played the Overture to new misfortunes, and the Finale to all
my hopes. (Another tap at the door. MADAME sinks back
in her chair.) Come in.

Trillo. Please Madame, here's a gentleman who would
come up stairs; he says he scrapes a prime violin. (Voice


heard). Me say Monsieur Screpescrappe, sir, Premier
Madame. Shew him in.
found flourishing bows to both ladies; has one finger con-
spzcuously tied up.

Monsieur (With much gesture). Madame, votre tres humble
serviteur. Mademoiselle, je suis charm de vous voir.
Madame. Qu'est ce que c'est, Monsieur, parlez, vite !
Monsieur. Madame, me vare sorry to tell to you-me
exceedingly accidentally cut,-me coupe, vare big, me little
fingare,-me no play me violin ce soir, c'est impossible! Vat
small me do? me fly for madame-me run here, dere, every-
vere for madame, but me no play, c'est impossible.
Madame (In an ironical tone.) Pray don't distress yourself,
Monsieur; your cut is not of the slightest consequence I
assure you; be seated, I beg. (MONSIEUR takes a seat.)
Another tap at the door. TRILLO throws it open to admit
SIGNORA VARSOVIANA. Announces her as "Sing-o'er-her
something, Madame." Ah this is the climax. (The SIGNORA
enters the room limping.) You seem lame, Signora-a foot-
stool, Trillo. (He places one-the SIGNORA seats herself, and
with one or two wry faces, puts her feet carefully upon the
stool.) To that circumstance I suppose I may attribute the
honour of this visit ?
Signora (In a lively tone). Yes, indeed you may, madame,
but do not be alarmed, it will only prevent my dancing for a
few nights. I made a great exertion to come to you at once.
It being so near the time for the performance, I would not


trust a messenger. I certainly am very disappointed. I
thought I should make quite a sensation in the Opera to-
night. I was practising my steps in order to be quite perfect,
when I "tripped the light fantastic toe" in reality, I fell,
and on recovering my equilibrium found I had sprained my
ankle. I consoled myself, however, with the hope that you
would not be able to get any one to supply my place.
Madame. Oh! certainly not, it would be in vain to try.
My enemy has found me out!
Monsieur. (Starting up.) Madame's enemie! vere ? me
vill find him out, and shoot him.
Madame. (Waving her hand.) Your valour is not needed,
Monsieur, my enemy is only visible in the ruin she causes.

Trillo. It is seven o'clock, Madame, and the carriage is at
the door.
Madame. (Rises.) Carriage waiting to take me to the
Royal Imperial Anglais Frangais Theatre, at the doors of
which large placards announce-" This Evening, for the
First time, an Entirely New Opera, with new performers, new
scenery, new dresses, new everything! And here are the
principal performers, like Chelsea .Pensioners, all disabled !
Fine news for the public Am I not visited by-
Omnes. What ? Who ?
Madame. Ask those ladies and gentlemen, who, and what
I mean.

[Piano plays, Ai.-" Oh, no, we never mention her."
All rise and sing to audience.


Oh yes you now can mention Lhr,
Her name you 've often heard;
Our play is o 'er-we bid you speak,
And say, what is "The Word."


PETER -41:. .11:;

LOOK at that melancholy youth,
With pallid cheek and brow of care;
Of him it may be said in truth,
He sits in silent sorrow there."
His sad and mournful owre true tale,"
To listening ears I will unfold,
Nor marvel if the check grow pale,
While such a tale of woe is told.
Young Peter Simple wooed a maid-
But think not she was earthly fair;
No, he implored the powerful aid
Of Poetry's Muse beyond compare.
His nights of vigil-days of thought-
Were recompensed, tho' not too soon,
And when he inspiration caught,
He wrote "A Sonnet to the Moon."
"And now for fame and high renown,
My Sonnet it must published be,
That all my friends in this great town,
My name and poem in print may see."


Thus Peter hoped-but sad to tell -
When sent unto a magazine,
The ruthless Editor thought well
To doom his verse to blush unseen.'
Unconscious of this cause for grief,
A month to Peter seemed an age,
It passed.-He quickly turned each leaf,
And eagerly he scanned each page.
"Not here! Not there Not anywhere !
Some grand mistake must surely be;
What's this ?" he cried, midst doubt and fear,
P.S.-Declined with thanks.'-Oh, me "
This short, politely-killing line,
Brought Peter Simple very low,
And thought he does not loud repine,
His head's affected by the blow.
His friends around him come and try
To cheer him with their noisy pranks,
Still he repeats with mournful cry,
Declined with thanks, declined with thanks

List, all young men from far and nigh,
Be modest in your several ranks,
For all vain hopes, when placed too high,
May chance to be-" Declined with thauhs "



NANETTA . .. )
SLA ETTA. .. two country maidens.
JOHXNIE .. a young farmer.

Rustic and picturesque-coloured or black boddices or
jackets trimmed with ribbons, white skirts, short enough to
display rosettes upon the shoes; for Johnnie-a light jacket
and gay waistcoat, wide-awake, or straw hat.
OVERTURE.-" Oh dear what can the matter be ?"

Sus. Not come home yet! how long he is. I am getting
quite impatient-I cannot sit still any longer.
[Walks about singing,
"Oh, dear what can the matter be,
Oh, dear! what can the matter be,
Oh, dear! what can the matter be,
Johnnie's so long at the fair.
He promised to buy me a bonnie blue ribbon
To tie up my bonnie brown hair."


(Looks at herself.) I almost wish, though, that I had
chosen pink; I think it would have been more becoming.
Never mind, I can have pink next time. I hope Johnnie
will come soon, or we shall be late at our dance on the green
to-night. (Looks out of window in a listening attitude.) I
hear some one; it must be him-he shall not see me waiting.
I '11 hide. [Hides herself behind one of the window-curtains.
Nan. I wish Johnnie would come, I have been watching
for him this half hour. (Walks about singing the same as
SUSETTA.) Oh, dear what can the matter be," &c., &c. (At
the conclusion of her song, surveys her dress admiringly.)
I was very undecided between blue and rose-colour; rose-
colour would have looked more striking, but I think
blue suits me best.
[A voice heard singing "Wait for the waggon," and
the smacking of a whip heard outside.
Nan. (Joyfidly.) Here he is Now I'11 hide, to punish him
for being so long. (Hides behind the other window-curtain.
Enter JOHNNIE, whip in hand.
John. Well, here I am, back at last,-rather behind time
I expect, but there are many, I'm sure, who know how hard
it is to tear themselves away from the fair, the charming, charm-
ing fair. (Sings, with a whip accompaniment, Air, last part of
" Oh, charming May," "Oh, charming fair," &c., &c., and
concludes with a bow, intended for the lady part of the
audience.) Now I'll look at the fairings I've bought. (Lays
down the whip, and takes from his pocket, carefully folded in
paper, a long piece of blue ribbon-holds it up and examines it.
SUSETTA and NANETTA each peeping from behind her curtain.)


Well I really think it is a very handsome piece of ribbon; I
told him to give me the best, as it was for a handsome young
[SUSETTA and NANETTA slip from their hiding places,
and without heeding JOHNNIE'S surprise, exclaim,
both together.
Both. Oh! Johnnie dear, what a beautiful blue ribbon!
And did you say I was a handsome young maiden?
Nan. It is not for you, Susetta, .it is for me.
Sus. It is not for you, Nanetta, it is for me.
Nan. Johnnie, dear, didn't you buy that ribbon for me?
Sus. Johnnie, dear, didn't you buy it for me ?
[JOHNNIE holds the ribbon in one hand, andputs the other
to his ear.
Joh. Susetta, Nanetta, be quiet, I pray,
To neither together, a word can I say.
Nan. Well, Johnnie, say which of us it is for.
Sus. Yes, Johnnie, you might say who it is for.
Joh. Why, it is certainly for one of you, but I am sure I
don't mind which.
Sus. (proudly turning away). Then I am sure I shall not
have it.
Nan. (beginning to cry). Oh, Johnnie, how unkind! when
you know you promised-
Joh. Hush, you silly little thing; I know I promised, and
I have kept my promise, and brought you each a piece of
ribbon; but as you both chose the same colour it does not
matter who has this piece, because I have another exactly like
it in my pocket. (Brings forth another piece of foldedpaper,
from which he takes a similar ribbon, and presents one to each.


Both. Oh, thank you, Johnnie-how kind It was very
silly of us, we might have known you would not forget.
Jol. Well, now the important point of Who is it for ?"
is settled, so kiss and be friends. (The two girls embrace.)
Sus. And now, in return for the ribbon, I must give you a
flower, which I picked on purpose for you.
[Detaches a flower from her dress, and puts it in his
Nan. And I also have a flower for Johnnie. [Presenting it.
John. Ah that's right; fasten it here-that will make both
sides even. And now you have adorned me, I advise you to
go and try the effect of the ribbon on your pretty little heads;
remember the dance on the green to-night. I expect you
both will be Blue Belles."
All sing, AIR.-" Blue Bells of Scotland."
0, yes, and O yes we [you] both will Blue Belles be,
And we will dance and pass the hours away so merrily,
For now, and O now, I am sure we all agree.
[Exeunt Omnes.





MRS. FITZJENKINS lady of the house.
HORATIO .. her son.
LADY HANDITOVER ... a visitor.
THOMAS . footman.

Very fashionable attire for the ladies-home and morn-
ing-visiting dress; for the footman, full livery-a red or blue
waistcoat may easily be managed by tacking something the
colour over the one to be worn by the performer; a cambric
handkerchief, trimmed with lace, will make a good neck-tie;
silk stockings, and large rosettes in the shoes.

OVERTURE.-" Such a Getting Up Stairs."
SCENE.-Breakfast Room.
Enter HonATIo. A pencil and note-book in his hand-appears
very meditative-pushes his hair off his forehead-taps it
with his pencil, and looks up to the ceiling.
Hor. How can I write, with such a disturbance in the
house driven first-from one room and then from another, my
ideas have become quite scattered; all the house seems to be
wanted for the party to-night. (Seats himself at a small table.)
Let me see, shall I wear stick-ups, or turn-downs, or all-
rounders? Why, turn-downs, of course, B la Byron; ah!
some day, perhaps the name of Horatio Fitzjenkins will give


style to a shirt-collar I wish I could find a nice rhyme to
"moon," (taps his forehead)-" moon---" moon"-ah !
"noon," of course, will do beautifully; let me see (writes).
The lady moon
Looks pale at noon;
From glaring day
She shrinks away,
And hides her lovely face."
Hor. Bravo! I really think that transcends anything I have
ever written.
Enter MRs. FITZJENKINS. (Seats herself with an air of
Mrs. F. Well, at last all the preparations for my soirde are
finished, and I feel quite ready for a chop. I am glad I told
Mr. Fitzjenkins that I could not have him home to dinner to-
day. [Rings a bell.
Enter FooTMAN, hurriedly putting on his gloves.
Mrs. F. Thomas, have you cleaned the candelabra ?
Thomas. Yes, ma'am; I've polished 'em well-used plenty
of elbow-grease.
Mrs. F. (In a horrified tone.) Grease! Thomas, grease !
to my silver candelabra!
Thomas. Yes, ma'am, elbow-grease-nothing like it, ma'am.
Mrs. F. Really, Thomas, you are too vulgar to live in a
genteel family; I cannot be supposed to understand such
coarse, countrified expressions-remember, I give a soirde to-
night, and expect regular footman-like behaviour-do try and
behave as if you had lived somewhere with somebody.
Thomas. Yes, ma'am, so I did, ma'am-I'm sure I didn't
live nowhere with nobody.


Mrs. F. There, hold your tongue-I hope you have a clean
pair of gloves ready.
Thomas. Certainly, ma'am, spotless as the driven snow,"
as Master Horatio said one day, so I am sure that must be
very genteel.
Mrs. F. You may go, Thomas, and bring up the chops
directly. [Exit THo.MAs.
Mrs. F. Well, I don't think I shall very often give soiries ;
they are a great deal of trouble, especially with such an awk-
ward footman-I shall be obliged to give him warning
although his wages are so low. Oh, dear! I think I had
better have kept to my little boy in buttons; but I don't see
why I should not have a footman as well as Mrs. Simp-
Thomas. Please, ma'am, what will you have your dinner
on; all the best crockery is laid out for supper ?
Mrs. F. Crockery, indeed! can't you say china," or the
dinner service;" did I not give you a lesson about using such
common words? bring it in anything, any plates out of the
kitchen will do. [Exit THOMAS.
Mrs. F. Horatio, what are you tapping your forehead so for?
Hor. To let my ideas run out, to be sure, mamma; please
don't interrupt me, I want to finish my poem on Moon-
light." (Continues writing.)
Mrs. F. Well, remember I shall expect you to recite to-
night; it is not every one who has a genius for their son.
Mrs. Simpkinson cannot vie with me there.
[Enter THOMAS, with a tray, upon which is a covered dish,
plates, knives and forks, c.; sets it upon a small


table. Loud knock and ring heard-Tno-ms rushes
out, and returns with a visiting card upon a silver
Thomas. Please, ma'am, are you at home ? Lady in a car-
riage waiting at the door.
Mrs. F. Good gracious, Thomas, no, I don't think I can
possibly be at home-yet, stay-I should like Mrs. Sim!i-
kinson to see her Ladyship's carriage standing at my door.
But what can we do with these dinner-things, there is no
room but this to show her into-the drawing-room is cleared
out for dancing, and supper is laid in the dining-room. Oh,
I know! put them behind the curtains. Come, Horatio,
[They scramble dish, 8fc., off the table, and hide them be-
hind the curtains. THOMAS exits, and, returning,
Lady H. (Aside.) What a smell of mutton chops !
[The usual civilities pass between the Ladies; then
Lady H. (opens the conversation by saying)-Is that your
son, Mrs. Fitzjenkins?
Mrs. F. Yes, he is my only child; and although very young,
I can assure your ladyship he is a genius.
Lady H. Indeed! in what way does his genius show
itself ?
Mrs. F. Poetry, your ladyship. Horatio, stand up and
give her ladyship a specimen-repeat those pretty lines you
composed "On a Dead Caterpillar."
Hor. (Stands up.)
I saw a Caterpillar lay
Upon the gravel path one day-
[Hesitates, and looks up to the


Upon the gravel path one day,
I saw-a Caterpillar lay.
Lady H. Poor boy, he has forgotten it-never mind, most
men of genius are absent-we will excuse him the rest,
(Aside) with a great deal of pleasure.
Lady H. And now, my dear Mrs. Fitzjenkins, you are, no
doubt, aware that I am President of the Society for the Ex-
tension of the Knowledge of the Art of Making Pastry
amongst the Rising Generation of Young Ladies in Great
Britain, Ireland, and all the Colonies; I very much wish for
your influential name in my list of subscribers; I hope you
will not refuse to give me a subscription. There is a list of
names with amounts already subscribed (hands her a paper);
if your name appears I am sure we shall have all the fashion-
able people in the place.
Mrs. F. Well, really, I cannot say-I will speak to Mr.
Lady H. Excuse me, I should not think there was any
need of that. I am sure Mr. Fitzjenkins thinks all that you
do the "wisest, discreetest, and best;" besides, you are a
Mirs. F. Yes, but not of a young lady-only of an only son,
my own and only darling one.
[Looking affectionately at HORATIO.
Lady H. Yes; but consider, your son may one day marry
one of the young ladies of Great Britain, Ireland, or the
Colonies, then think what a satisfaction it will be to your
feelings to know that you have subscribed liberally to the
Society for the Extension of the Knowledge of the art of
Making Pastry amongst the Rising Generation of Young
Ladies in Great Britain, Ireland, and all the Colonies; if
your daughter-in-law should not know how to make pastry,
you will have nothing to reproach yourself with.
Mrs. F. Does pastry-making include cakes? Horatio is
very fond of cake.


Lady H. Yes, of every description; in fact, this art has
become so extremely fashionable that it has entirely super-
seded potichomanie and leather work, even embroidery will
soon be a secondary consideration; and, in a little time, none
but good, plain cooks will be needed, as all the fancy work
will be done by the ladies.
Mrs. F. I think I heard that the Society intended found-
ing a College.
Lady H. Yes, I am now collecting funds for that purpose,
and with your valuable assistance hope to raise sufficient; we
shall then have professors to instruct young ladies in all the
various branches of the art.
Mrs. F. Well, it is certainly a very useful thing to sub-
scribe to; I think I must give two guineas. (Takes out her
purse, hands LADY HANDITOVER the money, and puts her name
on the paper.)
Lady H. Oh, thank you; but I expected no less from your
well-known liberality. (Rises and takes her leave.)
Hor. Oh, ma what a lot of money to give away.
Mrs. F. I had my reasons, Horatio; I saw that Mrs.
Simpkinson was down for two pounds, so, of course, I made
it guineas. I could not think of giving less.
THOMAus rushes in.
Thomas. Oh, if you please, ma'am, the kitchen chimney's
on fire; cook upset all the fat in it. Shall I run for the
Mrs. F. (In dismay.) Oh dear, dear, dear, what shall we
do! engines! no, I will have no engines here, why they'll
deluge the place with water; cook must put it out herself.
Hor. Oh, ma, don't you smell the soot? I do. I shall go
and see. (Throws down his note-book and runs out.)
[MRS. F. and THOMAS follow. Mns. F. exclaiming-If
she does not put it out directly I will give her




ROSE DROP . .. .queen of Toffee Land.
LADY CARRAWAY COMFIT maid of honour.
LADY BARLEY SUGAR-STICK first lord in waiting.

The Queen must be very richly dressed, and look as royal
as possible, with a train or long sweeping dress-rose colour
being predominant. Lady Carraway Comfit's attire should
be principally white; for Lord Barley Sugar Stick, as near
an approach to a court dress as can be contrived, and instead
of a sword a dagger, twisted with yellow silk to represent a
barley sugar stick; for the Page, a boy's tunic, trimmed with
scarlet, ruffles and a falling collar of lace, white gloves, and
rosettes on the shoes.

OVERTURE.- Mourir pour la patrie."
SCENE.-Room in a castle on Almond Rock, marble side-table
with refreshments on silver.
CoMFIT. QUEEN seats I'/*r languidly in a large
easy chair; LADY C. places a footstool, and then
hands her some refreshment.
Lady C. C. Let me beseech your Majesty to take some
refreshment; I fear your health will suffer, it is so very long
since you have eaten anything.
Queen. (WIith a royal wacc of the hand.) Take it away-I


cannot eat; and why do you call me "Majesty ?" Princess
Rose Drop is now my only title; thanks to my -ungrateful
subjects, who have driven me from my rich kingdom of Toffee
Land, and placed that odious, vulgar, proud Princess Pepper-
mint on my throne, only because they were cowardly enough
to be frightened at her large army of Black Jacks with their
strong Clove sticks. You, py sweet Lady Carraway, are the
only comfort I have left. /
Lady C. C. Ah gracious madam, it makes me weep to
think of what you have suffered. I will never forgive Lord
Barley Sugar Stick for deserting you in the hour of danger;
forced to fly by night for our lives, until we were safe in this
strong castle on Almond Rock-with only one attendant, the
faithful Page, young Candied Peel. But let me beseech you,
most gracious Princess, to take comfort; the Page told me
just now that he had something of importance to communi-
cate to your Highness, will you allow me to summon him to
your presence ?
Queen. As you please, dear Lady Carraway.
[LADY C. C. rings a bell, the PAGE appears, bows lowly,
and stands before her Majesty.
Queen. Lady Carraway Comfit informs me that you have
something of importance to tell me; what is it, my faithful
Page? Speak, and conceal nothing.
Page. (Bowing.) May it please your Royal Highness, I
went into the village this morning, to get in the supplies of
provisions we require, and I heard it rumoured that the
people had risen by Hundreds and Thousands in several parts
of Toffee Land, and that proud Queen Peppermint would
soon be dethroned, and our rightful Queen Rose Drop re-
instated on the throne of her ancestors.
Queen (vehemently). Never They may rise in my favour
-they may kneel in supplication-but never will I be their
Queen again. I cannot forgive my ungrateful subjects for
the cruel manner in which they deserted me. Let them keep


their Queen Peppermint! I will live and die in my castle on
Almond Rock.
[A great noise and loud cheers heard outside. "Hurrah !
hurrah! for QUEEN ROSE DROP, down with QUEEN
Queen. Hark what is that ? My pretty Page, look out,
look out, afar." [Exit PAGE, backwards.
Lady C. C. (clasping her hands in terror). "Hear you the
thunder of the war, the thunder of the war ?" (Both listen
Enter PAGE.
Page. May it please your Highness, a deputation from the
nobles of Toffee Land waits without.
Queen. I will not see them.
Lady C. C. Let me beseech your Highness not to decide
hastily, consider; suppose Queen Peppermint should really be
dethroned, what a state Toffee Land would be in without a
Queen at least, hear what they have to say.
Queen. Who heads the deputation ?
Page. Lord Barley Sugar Stick and General Bull's Eye,
may it please your Highness.
Queen. I will see Lord Sugar Stick, but no other noble
shall enter my presence. [PAGE bows and exits backwards.
Lady C. C. Lord Barley Sugar Stick returned to his duty
at last nevertheless I will not forgive him, if I can help it.
[Enter PAGE, ushering in LORD SUGAR STICK, who bows'
lowly, and drops upon one knee before her Majesty ;
PAGE retreats to a little distance.
Queen. You may speak, most loyal Lord Barley Sugar
Lord B. S. S. Most gracious and royal Lady, will you of
your infinite goodness and unmerited condescension forgive
me, and all your unhappy subjects, our disloydlty-of which


we bitterly repent-and return to reign over us; the whole
kingdom of Toffee Land, and the population of All Sorts,
have united in expelling proud Queen Peppermint and her
army of Black Jacks. It was a glorious conflict-your
Majesty's own regiment of Bull's Eyes particularly distin-
guished themselves, and our Brandy Balls did great execu-
tion; the enemy's Clove Sticks were broken to shivers, and
we drove them across the Lemonade Seas to their own little
Floating Island. We are all now anxiously waiting and
hoping for our gentle Queen Rose Drop, and if she will only
forgive us this once, we will serve her faithfully for ever-
[The QUEEN puts her handkerchief to her face, but does
not answer.
Lord B. S. S. Sweet Lady Carraway, plead for us.
Lady C. C. May it please your Majesty-I will answer for
the sincerity of Lord Barley Sugar Stick's repentance.
Queen. You, Lady Carraway, have been my only friend,
my only comfort-if you wish it, I yield-to you Toffee Land
owes its Queen. Rise, Lord Sugar Stick, your petition is
granted, I forgive you.
[QUEEN extends her hand, which he kisses-then rises;
the PAGE exits hastily and returns immediately, bear-
ing the royal crown upon a cushion; LORD B. S. S.
places it on the QUEEN'S head; then taking LADY C.
COMFIT'S hand, they stand on one side of her MAJESTY
and the PAGE on the other, and sing, accompanied by
music from the piano, and a chorus of distant
AIR.-" God Save the Queen."
Long live Rose Drop, our Queen,
Long live our gentle Queen,
Once more to reign.


Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
Rose Drop our Queen."





CURLINE .. his daughter.
LOUISE ...... her attendant.

OVERTURE.-" Through the Wood," changing to Come
where my Love lies Dreaming."
SCENE.-Fairy dell in a wood on the domain of BARON GRIM-
BERG; green baize spread over the drawing-room carpet


to represent turf; cushions underneath to form il1locks;
fir-trees in pots, and orange-trees in tubs, oleanders, lSc.,
ad libitum, ranged against the walls; rustic seat on one
side; the end of the room must lead into a conservatory,
the entrance to which should be draped with green curtains.
[CURLINE discovered reclining in a shady nook in the
fairy dell. Seated in the conservatory amongst the
plants she appears to have fallen asleep with a book
in her hand; two little fairies watch over her, sing-
ing softly-
AIa.-" Come where my love lies dreaming."
1st Fairy. Soft be thy slumber-thoughts bright and free,
Dance thro' thy dreams like gushing melody."
2nd Fairy. "Light is her young heart, light may it be,
Curline of Love lies Dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours away."
1st Fairy. Hush I hear the step of mortal man,
He seeks Curline, let's hide her if we can.
[They draw the curtains across the entrance.
Enter COUNT ADOLPHE-he looks anxiously round-appears to
be searching for some one.
Adolphe. Curline Curline !
Where art thou?
Curline! Curline !
I call thee now,
But still hear no reply,
Save the soft breezes' murmuring sigh,
Which seems to say, Curline, Curline !
I seek thee in this fairy dell,
Where first I felt the magic spell
That binds me unto thee.
Where first thine eyes were raised to mine,


Where first my hand felt touch of thine,
Beneath this spreading tree.
Sings :-
AIR.-" Gentle Troubadour."
Maiden, most enchanting,
Thy loved name I'm calling,
See, the sunbeams slanting
O'er yon lordly tower;
'Neath this shady linden tree,
At the well-known hour,
I will sing love's song to thee,
Maiden, I adore."
[The two fairies appear at the entrance of the conservatory.
1st Fairy. Hush, hush the maiden sleeps.
2nd Fairy. Wake her not!
[They wave him back with their wands.
Adolphe (stepping back astonished).
And who are you? and whence come you?
Ethereal little beings two!
1st Fairy. We are the fairies of this dell.
2nd Fairy. Here in cool grot and mossy cell,
WTe rural fays and fairies dwell."
1st Fairy. We guard the slumbers of Curline;
2nd Fairy. We watch by her, ourselves unseen;
1st Fairy. Let her sleep, she will wake to sorrow,
2nd Fairy. Your love will keep, come again to-morrow.
Adolphe (in wonder).
I've heard that fairies haunt this dell.
2nd Fairy. Be not afraid, we wish you well.
1st Fairy. The course of true love never did run smooth,
2nd Fairy. And Curline's father will not you approve.
Adolphe. How know you that?
1st Fairy. We know more than mortals know,
Be advised and straightway go.


Adolphe (advancing).
I cannot, no, I will not go.
[Voices heard in the distance singing.
AIR.-" The Elfin Call."
Come away, Elves, where the dew is sweet,
Come to the dingles where the fairies meet."
2nd Fairy. Hark we are called, we must attend our Queen.
1st Fairy (to ADOLPHE).
We wish much to befriend you and Curline,
If you won't take advice, perhaps you'll take
this ring. [Holds up a glittering ring.
[Voices singing :-
Now that the lilies have spread their bells,
Over the woods and the forest dells,
Come, come away."
2nd Fairy. Quick, quick, we must depart, our sisters for us
Adolphe (taking the ring).
How can this help me ? for you seem to say,
There will be difficulty in my way.
1st Fairy. Worn on your finger when you wish to be un-
'T will render you invisible-you thus may help
(Voices singing).-Come, come away.
Adolphe. Stay, take my thanks.
[Fairies disappear into the conservatory.
Adolphe (curiously examining the ring).
This fairy ring may prove indeed a prize,
'Tis bright-almost as bright as Curline's eyes.
[Looks into the conservatory, exclaims-


Ah! she is there! she sleeps! Those beauteous
eyes are closed to light of day,
She smiles! she dreams of me, perhaps, the
breezes with her tresses play,
And waft the tendrils of her hair,
Shading cheek and brow so fair.
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours away,
In visions bright redeeming
The fleeting joys of day.
Dreaming the happy hours,
Dreaming the happy hours away;
Come where my love is dreaming so sweetly,
Dreaming the happy hours away."
She moves-she comes-now I will try the ring.
[Puts the ring on his finger.
CURLINE appears at the entrance of the conservatory-
looks round with a bewildered air-does not seem to
Curline. I thought I heard his voice, it was a dream, I
And yet-the beating of my heart tells me that
he is near.
[ADOLPHE takes off the ring.
Curline. Adolphe!
Adolphe. Curline (advancing towards her).
Enter LOUISE, who rushes in between them, and appears
out of breath.
Louise. Oh, lady, dearest lady, oh, how I have Leen
The Baron, my master, your papa, is coming, oh,
he's coming,
1 E 2


And he is so cross, and he wants you directly,
and he looks and speaks like thunder;
And who has done anything to make him so, I'm
sure I don't know.
Curline. What can be the matter, I wonder?
Pray go, Adolphe, some other time I'll introduce
you to papa,
A stranger now might anger him.
Adolphe. I go (aside), but I'll not go far.
[Rumbling music, descriptive of a storm, gradually in-
creasing in sound.
[CURLINE and LOUISE retire into the conservatory.




SCENE.-The same.
[Enter BARON GRIMBERG-he walks with a stick, and
appears very hot and angry.
Baron (calling loudly).
Louise! Louise!
I saw her come this way,
Louise Louise! I say.
[LOUISE appears from the conservatory, drops a frightened
Baron (shaking his stick at her).



p. 52.


For this you shall pay,
Take warning to-day,
In a month you shall go, go,
Yes, you shall go !
[Knocks his stick violently on the ground.
Louise (clasping her hands).
What have I done, my lord?
What have I done ?
Baron. What have you not done ? Have you not neglected
your mistress, the Lady Curline, my daughter,
the Baron Grimberg's daughter; have you not
allowed her to walk forth alone, and unattended,
despite my express commands ? for this you shall
go; yes, you shall go, go, go!
Louise (in distress). Oh, no oh, no oh, no !
Baron. Where is Curline? find her instantly!
Curline (appearsfrom the conservatory).
Here am I, my father.
Louise is not in fault, I came here with my book,
And overcome with heat, slept in this shady nook.
[LOUisE sings.
AIR.-" My pretty Page."
Pray let me stay,
(Don't send me away.
Baron (seating himself). You shall go away.
Curline Pray let her stay.
Baron. (She shall go away.
Louise. IDon't send me away,
I shall weep if you do.
To CURLBNE. For I love you as well as you know who.
Curline. As I know who?
Louise. Yes, yes, as you know who I
Curline. As I ?
Louise. As you! &c.


Curline. I?
Louise. You &c.
Baron. You shall go away.
Louise & Curline. Oh, pray let he stay.
Baron. Go, go, away.
Louise CurHine. Must { i }go, do let h{me stay, &c.

[Exit LoUIsE in tears.
[CURLINE sits upon a grassy mound.
Baron. Curline, I'm very much displeased with you.
Curline. With me, my father, why? oh, tell me, do!
SEnter ADOLPHE, wrapped in a dark cloak-he wears the
fairy ring, consequently glides in unperceived, and
stations himself behind the BARON.
Baron (emphatically).
Some time ago I told you that we were very poor,
That poverty would very soon be' knocking at our
That once let in our ancient house would crumble
to decay,
Our house that has for centuries so proudly held its
I told you that Count Philip much wished you for
his bride,
And that his wealth would prop our house, and save
from fall my pride.
But you, most disobedient child, think nought of
house or land,
And now, Count Philip tells me plain, he does
refuse your hand!
Curline (delighted). Refuse my hand !
Adolphe (delighted and surprised). Refuse her hand! I


Baron (turning round).
What's that, I heard a voice, and yet no one I see.
Curline (looking anxiously round).
I heard it, too, but see no one,
An Echo it must be.
Baron (continues).
He says you treat him with disdain, that he has
changed his mind,
That he has found a lady both more lovely and
more kind.
Adolphe. I am rejoiced to hear it!
Baron. Rejoiced to hear it, did you say ? unkind, ungrate-
ful child,
Take care, Curline, you'll drive me wild; yes, you
will drive me wild.
Curline. I did not say it, though it was an echo to my
I could not love Count Philip, and I wish he'd never
To marry me.
Baron. Then farewell house and land,
All, all must go.
Adolphe (in a deep sepulchral voice).
Man wouldst thou sell thy daughter's hand?
Baron (jumping up).
Eh, what, some spy is here-come out, come out, I
say. [Beats about the trees with his stick.
ADOLPHE is obliged to dodge to avoid being
Curline. The wood seems to be haunted, father dear, we'd
better come away.
Baron. These woods must go,
I money owe,
Our ancient house must fall, if money I can't get,
I cannot keep it up-


Adolphe. Then put it up "To Let."
Baron (indignantly).
To Let! our house to Let! you mocking fiend,
avaunt [Fights in the air with his stick.
A goblin for some purpose bad I'm sure this place
must haunt.
To Let! The House of Grimberg up to Let! !
Adolphe. 'Twould fetch a tidy rent.
Baron. And rend my heart to pieces-to that I'll ne'er
My castle up to Let!
Adolphe (echoes). To Let to Let! !
[BARON turns round quickly, ADOLPHE slips behind him.
Baron. Whoe'er you are, avaunt! I've not come to that
'Tis very strange, I like it not-
If I could only find him,
I'd strike his head off on the spot,
Or-to keep the peace-I'd bind him
Hand and foot, and spare his crown,
For ransom rich, in money down.
That thought is somewhat good,
I'll call my vassals and we'll search the wood.
Curline, unto your chamber at once you will retire,
And when the next rich suitor comes, remember
my desire. [Exit BARON.
[ADOLPHE remains still, looking at CURLINE, but does not
discover himself.
Curline. How strange, could it have been a sprite ?
Oh, where art thou, Adolphe ?
Alas I know not thy abode,
Or whether thou hast wealth;
I only know that thou art noble
Noble in heart and rank,
And think thou lovest me.


[ADOLPHE takes off the ring, throws off his cloak, and
Curline. Adolphe! thou hast been here, and thou hast
Adolphe. I have been here unseen-I wore a fairy ring
Which rendered me invisible-wilt thou forgive me
That I played the spy? I hoped to hear
How I might win thee. I have heard all,
And I must think upon it-wilt thou meet me here
In this loved spot to-morrow, at the self-same
Curline (hesitatingly).
Louise and I perhaps may wander hither.
It is my favourite walk-
But thou must see my father, he must know thee,
Or I know thee no more.
Adolphe. He shall know me as Count-Adolphe,
Not as the goblin who did so torment him;
I felt so angry that I could not help it,
But if he knew I was the daring man who did
To put his old baronial castle up to let,
He would not let me speak to thee again-
E'en if I saved my head.
Dearest and fairest, I will leave thee now,
When next we meet I pray it may be happily.
Curline. Farewell.
Adolphe. Until to-morrow, fare thee well. [Exit ADOLPHE.
Curline (gazing anxiously after him).
Did he believe that I was rich ?
And will he change?
No, no, I will not think it.
[Exit to slow music-" The Tempest of the Heart."




OVERTURE.--" Good bye, Sweetheart, Good bye."
SCENE.-The same-twenty-four hours must be supposed to
have elapsed since the Second Act.
[Enter CURLINE attended by LOUISE-she seats herself
Curline. How hot it is! I scarcely thought that I could reach
the dell,
I seem to have no strength.
Louise. Dearest lady, you are not well.
Shall I fan you, shall I bring
Cooling water from the spring.
Or to please you shall I sing?
I know a new and pretty song.
Curline. Sing it, then, if not too long.
[LOUISE seats herself at a little distance from her mistress,
and displays some Berlin wool work, upon which she
employs herself whilst singing.
AIR.-" Gaily the Troubadour." [Sings.
Gaily the gold-digger shouldered his spade,
Gaily he thought on the fortune he'd made,
Singing, 'From Australia hither I come,
Laden with gold, lady love, welcome me home.'
She for the gold-digger hopelessly wept,
Sadly she thought of him whilst others slept,
Singing, In search of gold, only didst thou roam,
Gold-digger, gold-digger, come to thy home.'
Under the balcony softly he came,
Under the balcony breathing her name,


Singing, 'From Australia hither I've come,
Laden with gold, lady love, welcome me home.'"
And they were married and lived happy for ever after.
Curline. It would have been much happier for them if he
had not gone.
Louise. But then, my lady, don't you see, there would have
been no song.
Do you feel better now
Curline. But little.
[Rises, walks about in an agitated manner.
I cannot sit, I cannot rest,
Louise, art sure my father's stranger guest
Was Count Adolphe?
Louise. My lady, as I said before, I say,
It was the Count Adolphe, I saw him ride away.
And here he comes !
[Takes up her work and retires into the conservatory.
Curline (resuming her seat and looking towards the door).
He comes! his look is downcast, and his step is
He sees me, and he hastens-ah, now I all shall
Enter ADOLPHE-he advances quickly, and takes her hand.
Adolphe. Curline, I've sued for this dear hand-
Thy father-
Curline. He says-
Adolphe. No (seats himself near her.)
But I'll not give thee up-say thou wilt not
Forget me, though, unhappily, we should
Be parted for a time.
Curline. What said my father-why did he object?
Adolphe. He plainly said that he had debts, large debts,
That none should woo his daughter who did lack


The will or power to lend him gold to pay.
Lend was the word he used-and said thus more
That at his death the lands of Grimberg would
Amply repay a loan from Grimberg's son-in-law.
Curline. And thou?
Adolphe. I am not poor-
My rank I can support--but still, alas !
I have no hoard, I have no gold to lend.
But I will win thee yet, I'll not despair.
Of me it was predicted long ago,
That I should owe my fortune to my sword.
I will unto the wars, do deeds of might,
Gain honour and renown, and wealth and thee.
(Sings), AIR.-" I'll hang my harp on a willow tree."
"I'll leave my heart behind me with thee,
And I'll off to the wars again;
A peaceful home hath great charms for me,
But the battle-field no pain.
And the lady I love shall soon be my bride
With a diadem on her brow;
Oh, how can I tear myself from her side?
Oh, how can I leave her now?"
Thou, wilt be true to me, Curline,
Thou wilt not forget me?
Curline. Nay, it is thou who may forget-
Amid new scenes thou wilt new faces see,
And then, perhaps-
Adolphe. Speak it not. I were not worthy of thy love
If I could change.
Give me some token, something that I may cherish
When far away from thee.
Dare I ask for one of these ringlets ?
Curline (calls). Louise! Louise! Enter LOUISE.
Louise. My lady, I am here.


Curline. Your scissors, quick!
[Takes them from her. Soft music. AIR.-" Take this
cup of sparkling wine." CURLINE cuts off a ringlet,
which, of course, must be a false one, placed for the
purpose amongst her own, and gives it to ADOLPHE,
Take this ringlet, it is thine.
Adolphe. Round my heart it shall entwine,
Ne'er with life will I resign
This token of unchanging love.
(Continues, changing to The Standard Bearer."
The lady of my love I will not name,
But still I guard her ringlet as a token;
And never shall expire bright honour's flame,
Nor ever shall my knightly vow be broken.
Curline. But thou, perhaps, on some far-off battle-field
Wilt lie amongst the slain.
Can wealth be won no other way ?
Thy life will be endangered for my sake-
Oh no, it must not be!
Adolphe. Fear not; I could not go if I had not strong hope
I should return.
[CURLINE buries her face in her hands. Fairy voices are
heard from the conservatory, singing-
"Away with melancholy,
No doleful changes ring
On life and human folly,
But merrily, merrily, sing, fa, la."
Enter LovIss.
Louise. My lady, do you hear those voices strange ?
Adolphc. Hush! be silent.
Curline. Listen.


Voices continue.
"Come on, ye rosy hours,
Gay smiling moments bring;
We'll strew the way with flowers,
Then merrily, merrily, sing, fa, la."
[A shower of rose leaves fall upon the turf, and the two
fairies appear. LouISE starts with astonishment,
and retreats to a respectful distance.
Adolphe. You little elfish sprites,
Come you to mock us?
Both. No, no, no.
Have we not said that we are friends.
1st Fairy, to CURLINE.
Lady, dry those tears,
Night gives place to day;
Rosy morn appears,
Clouds all roll away.
2nd Fairy, to ADOLPHE.
Treasure for treasure
Is measure for measure.
In Curline you'll have treasure as long as you live,
For her we will help you rich treasure to give.
Adolphe. Oh, tell me how, and when, and where.
Curline. Must he leave me?
1st Fairy, to ADOLPHE, pointing with her wand.
Dig deep, dig deep
At the foot of that tree;
Bo,-h Fairies. Dig deep, dig deep,
And a treasure you'll see.
Adolphe. How can I dig, I have not got a spade?
1st Fairy. But by your sword your fortune can be made.
Adolphe (starting) Ha the prediction !


Yes, my sword can cut the turf,
And turn the earth,
At least, I'll try.
Curline. Oh yes, do try.
[ADOLPHE appears to dig, and after a little time his
sword strikes upon something hard. He stoops and
brings forth a box.
Fairies. Open, open, lift the lid,
You will find a treasure hid.
[ADOLPHE opens the box, and it appears to be filled with
gold coins and jewels. They all utter exclamations
of pleasure and astonishment.
Adolphe (to Fairies). And is this mine?
1st Fairy. It fairly is, and all is good and real, you need not
An ancestor of yours one day was put to rout,
And coming through this wood, with enemies
Buried his riches here, in hopes no one would find;
And here they've lain secure for many and many
a day,
The Count was killed-so take the gold and use it
as ye may.
Enter BARON. He stares from one to the other, and
speaks angrily.
You hold a court, it seems, Curline;
Tell me, what does all this mean?
To Adolphe. And you, young sir, what have you there?
A ringlet of my daughter's hair?
Of my vengeance pray beware.
Adolphe. Baron, do you see this treasure?
I give it you with greatest pleasure.


Baron (examining the contents of the box).
Ah jewels rich and rare-
Oh you may keep her hair-
Gold in plenty, what delight!
It is a charming, charming sight.
I will accept this as a loan, and at some future day,
Unto my noble son-in-law the value will repay.
Your hand, Curline. Take her, Count Adolphe, she's yours.
[Joins their hands.
And now I think we'd better come in-doors.
[Music, Where the Bee Sucks." Fairies sing.
Fairies. "Merrily, merrily, shall we live now,
Under the blossom that hangs from the bough."
[All join in chorus.
All. Merrily, merrily, do we end now,
Merrily, merrily, make we our bow.







SUSAN ... .... .. .chambermaid.
BETTY . . cook.
TIMOTHY . ... .waiter.

OVERTURE.-" The Syren and Friar."

SCENE.-Parlour oj an Inn. Sideboard, with glasses
decanters, 8fc. Small table, with inkstand and account

Enter SUSAN.
Susan. What a shame to make me rub these glasses all
over again. I am sure they look bright enough. (Takes up
a glass and wipes it with a cloth she has in her hand.) Let
me see, I have been chambermaid now for just a week; it is,
67 F 2


certainly, more lively than a private house, but there is a
good bit to do. (Loud ring heard.) My goodness, what
a peal! [Exit hastily.

Enter LANDLADY, with key basket in her hand. Seats herself
by the table.

Land. Well, I have got a full house now. Oh, dear! no
one knows the cares and responsibilities that weigh down the
shoulders of the landlady of an inn like this-charmingly
situated by the sea side, and much frequented in summer
time. Beds to let, good accommodation for man and horse.
It is almost too much for a single woman. I think I shall
be obliged to take a partner. There's that Timothy, who has
been with me so long, and been such a good waiter, and
always given such satisfaction, he thinks of nothing now but
talking to the new chambermaid, and I am in agonies every
day for fear my cook should give warning. I know they
want her at "The Red Cow," but I am determined they
shall not have her, even if I have to double her wages.
(Looks over the account books.)

Enter SUSAN.

Susan. Oh! if you please, ma'am, Number Eight is in
such a passion, he declares there is a whole cart-load of
cayenne pepper in his soup, and a sack of chilis. He says
he is as near choked as he can be. He did cough and
splutter so, ma'am, you've no idea, and he says he will have
us all taken up in a bundle and carried before the magistrate
for conspiracy.


Land. 0 dear, 0 dear, unfortunate woman that I am!
I would not have had Number Eight offended for ever so
much; he pays so well, and now I dare say he will go over
to "The Red Cow!" It must be cook's fault; tell her to
come here immediately. [Exit CHAMBERMAID.
Land. What can she have been thinking of? she knows
Number Eight is so very particular.

Enter SUSAN.
Susan. Please, ma'am, cook says she is in the middle of
a pudding, so she can't come.
Land. Am I mistress, or am I not? if she can't leave her
pudding, she must bring it with her. [Exit SUSAN.
Land. Can't come, indeed! she is getting mighty inde-
pendent. I see I must be master as well as mistress.

Enter COOK, with sleeves tucked up, marks of flour on her
hands and arms, brown holland or large white apron.
Has a pan and wooden spoon, with which she stirs
vigorously all the time she is in the room.

Cook. Did you want me, ma'am?
Land. Yes, cook, I do. Number Eight is making great
complaints about there being too much pepper in his soup.
Cook. (Leaves off stirring in surprise.) Too much pepper!
well, I never!! what an insult! (stirs again, quickly) as if
I did not always put the right quantities of everything into
everything; my Mulligatawney soup, too, which has always
been considered unapproachable by anybody.
Land. I should think so, if you make it too hot.


Cook. (dIiglyfnantly.) Too hot, indeed! too good, more
likely; if Number Eight can't eat Mulligatawney, he
shouldn't order it. It was only yesterday that the India
gentleman, in Number One, declared it was perfection, and
I should think he ought to know; but it is of no conse-
quence-I make no more soup in this house-I give warning
-I go without warning-I leave this very night. Perhaps
you'll get my wages ready, ma'am?
[Exit COOK, in a passion.

Land. (Rising.) 0 dear! I must pacify her, or she will go to
"The Red Cow." Don't stand staring there, Susan; haven't
you got anything to do?
Susan. Shall I finish rubbing up these glasses, ma'am?
Land. Yes; and be quick about it. [Exit LANDLADY.

Enter TIMOTHY, napkin in hand.

Tim. Ah! my charming Susy, you here! where is Missis?
Susan. Just gone into the kitchen, she'll be back directly.
[Cry of "Waiter" heard.
Tim. (Aloud.) Yes, sir; coming, sir. (In a lower tene) Oh
yes, I'm a coming, but not until I have rested my poor legs
a bit, in Missis's easy-chair. (Seats himself.) It has been
nothing but "Wai-ter," "Wai-ter," "Wai-ter," all day
long; and there's Missis, just because the house is full of com-
pany-(another cry of Waiter" heard)-yes, sir; coming,
sir;-thinks she must be ordering me about, and it's-
[Sings. Am.--" FigPr;:'


Timothy here, Timothy there,
Timothy what, Timothy where;
Timothy high, Timothy low,
Timothy come, Timothy go;
Thus, like a shuttlecock, struck to and fro,
Between Missis and customers flying I go.

Susan. And I think you had better go too, or Missis will
come back and catch you here.

[Cry of Wai-ter" again heard.

Timothy. (Getting up lazily). Yes, sir; coming, sir. (To
SUSAN.) Got a glass of sherry to give a fellow? Do, there's
a dear.
Susan. Oh no, I dare not; it will be missed
Timothy. No, it won't; fill it up with water. Here, I'll
take the sherry-(pours out a glass and drinks it off)-and
you put in the water. (Cry of Wai-ter," in an impatient
tone.) Oh, I'm a coming, coming, coming; I'm coming with
the flowers. [Runs out hastily.

[SUSAN puts some water into the sherry, and then
appears to be busy with the glasses.


Land. Susan, don't you hear the blue-room bell ringing?
(Exit SUSAN. LANDLADY seats herself and appears to be
making out a bill, speaking the items aloud.) One dinner,
two teas, wax candles," &c., &c.


Enter SUSAN.
Susan. Please, ma'am, the India gentleman, in Number
One, wants a feather-bed.
Land. Hasn't he got one?
Susan. Yes, ma'am, he has got one to lay upon, but he
wants another to put upon top.
Land. Well, Number One seems determined to take care
of himself. I am sure I have given out no less than seven
blankets for him already.
Susan. Yes, ma'am, but he says they must be made of
oilcloth, he is so cold at night.
Land. And this is Midsummer Eve! Well, he may be
able to bear it, but are we able to spare it? that is the
question-every bed in the house is made up.
Susan. And I think we shall have another customer soon,
ma'am; I saw a nice-looking gentleman walking past just
now, with a knapsack on his back. I shouldn't wonder if he
was to come for a night's lodging.
Land. And what business had you at the window, when
there is so much to do?
Susan. I was only wiping some splashes off a pane of
glass, ma'am.
Land. I dare say. Well, we must take him in and do for
him if he does come. I would rather give up my own room
than send a customer to "The Red Cow."


Waiter. A gentleman, ma'am, wants to know if he can
have a supper and bed here.


Land. Certainly, ask him in. (To SUSAN, quickly.) Susan,
is my cap straight?
Susan. Oh, yes, ma'am, beautiful.

Enter ROMANTIC TRAVELLER, with knapsack-removes
his cap.
Tra. Good evening, ma'am, can I have supper and a bed
here ?
Land. (Curtseying.) Certainly, sir, as many suppers and as
many beds as you please to order, sir. Will you take a seat?
I have no other room disengaged at present.
Tra. Oh, thank you, I can make myself very comfortable
here. (Aside.) What a pretty chambermaid!
Land. Susan, take the gentleman's knapsack. (To TRA-
VELLER.) You look tired, sir; take this easy-chair.
Tra. Oh, no, I could not think of depriving you of it, pray
oblige me by resuming your seat-it is such a warm evening,
I would rather be near the window. (Seats himself by win-
dow.) I am rather tired, I have been making a pedestrian
tour through this beautiful part of the country, but, most
unfortunately, have not met with one adventure.
Land. Are you fond of adventures, sir?
Tra. Yes, passionately fond; in fact, I left home on pur-
pose to seek for some; by-the-by, I hope you have got a
haunted room.
Land. hesitatingg.) Haunted room, sir-did you wish for
one, sir?
Tra. I should be delighted.
Land. (To CHAMBERMAID.) We have got a haunted room, I
think, Susan?


Susan. Oh, lor! ma'am, good gracious no, I hope not; I
have heard people speak of one at "The Red Cow."
Land. (Frowning and shaking her head.) That will do,
Susan, you can go. [Exit CHAMBERMAID.
Land. (To TRAVELLER). Of course we have got one, sir, and
you shall sleep in it, sir; and I will tell you the whole tale
about it, sir-rattling chains, apparitions, and all-as soon as
you have ordered your supper, sir; what will you be pleased
to have ?
Tra. What have you got?
Land. Anything you please to order, sir.
Tra. Well, let me see, I should like some cold duck, and a
Cambridge pudding.
Land. Cold duck-yes, sir-(rings a bell-waiter appears)
-tell cook I want her.

Enter Coox.

Cook. Did you want me, ma'am?
Tra. (Aside.) What a nice-looking cook!
Land. We have plenty of cold duck in the house, I sup-
pose, cook?
Cook. No, ma'am, not any at all-Number Two picked the
last bone at dinner to-day.
Land. Dear me, I am very sorry, I have plenty alive;
would you like to wait, sir, until one is killed, cooked, and
cold ?
Tra. No, certainly not; I am excessively hungry, I must
have something else.
Land. Cook, can you make a Cambridge pudding?


Cook. I should be very sorry, ma'am, if there was any
pudding I couldn't make.
Tra. And I am sure from your hands it will be delicious-
only mind and put in plenty of currants.
Cook. Currants, sir, in a Yorkshire pudding !
Tra. I said Cambridge.
Cook. Well, Cambridge or Yorkshire, it is all the same; you
call it Cambridge and I call it Yorkshire.
Land. There, Cook, you can go-I see you know nothing
at all about it.
Cook. Yes, I will go-to "The Red Cow." [Exit.
Tra. Eggs and ham I suppose you have got?
Land. Oh, yes, sir-some beautiful eggs, new laid the
beginning of last week; and you never saw finer, fatter
Tra. Ah that will do-and, in the mean time, I will take
a glass of sherry. (Helps himself.)
Land. That sherry I can recommend, sir, as being very
good; I keep it for my best customers.
Tra. (Tastes it-looks rather doubtful-holds it up.) Has it
crossed the line?
Land. Oh, yes, sir, over it many times.
Tra. Ah! I thought it rather tasted of the watei ; but
what a lovely night (Looks out of window); how beautifully
the moon shines over the sea! I am so fond of the moon-
Land. Are you, sir? So am I.
Tra. There is something about the moon's ray
That is sweet unto you and to me."
It is Midsummer Eve, the fairies ought to be abroad now.


Land. Ah! that reminds me, sir, if you like romantic tales,
I can tell you one about this place that people say is quite
Tra. Oh, pray tell me.
Land. They say that every Midsummer Eve, a lady all in
white walks the seashore, singing in a voice of most ravishing
sweetness, to entice the unwary traveller; but woe to the
unfortunate man who listens to her-he feels compelled to
follow her, and she leads him, like a Will-o'-the-Wisp, to the
water's edge, and he is sure to be drowned.
Tra. How very interesting! I wish I could hear her to-
Land. Oh pray, sir, do not wish any such thing; you would
be found a cold corpse, drowned by the morning.
Tra. (Looking out.) Hush do not you hear a sound of soft
music ?
Land. Oh no, sir, it is only the sad sea-waves that you
Tra. (Excited.) It is not! it is the white lady. I see her!
she beckons to me, hush !
Land. (Alarmed.) Oh, pray, sir, don't listen.
Tra. Hush! be quiet.

[Voice heard singing from a little distance outside.

AiM.-" Syren and Friar."

Come hither with me,
'Neath the bounding sea,
And merry and blythe
Our wedding shall be. [Repeat.


Tra. I come, I come, I come.
Land. (Seizing him by the arm.) Oh, no, sir, pray don't go.
(Calls.) Timothy, Susan, cook-help--(they rush in)-hold
him, don't let him go (They hold him by the coat-he
makes vehement efforts to free himself.)
(Voice again.) "Come hither with me."
Tra. I come, I come.
(They all pull him back, crying out). No, no, no.
Voice. "'Neath the bounding sea."
Tra. I come, I come.
Omnes. Oh, pray, sir, don't go.
Voice. Come hither, come hither, come hither with me."
Tra. I come, I come, I will come.
[He breaks from them and rushes out. They all follow.




COLONEL FIZZBALL. commanding at Bilbury Fort.
KITTY . .. .her maid.


The Colonel must, of course, wear epaulettes, sash and
sword-a cocked hat with a handsome plume cut in paper,
has a good effect. The stripes down the trousers may easily
be managed by tacking on a row of military braid. Mous-
tache indispensable. The Corporal might be decorated with
a Crimean medal. Mrs. Colonel Fizzball should appear in a
hat and feathers of the latest fashion, and a scarf thrown
over her dress.

OVERTURE.-" The Campbells are coming."

SCENE.-Supposed to be part of the exterior of Bilbury Fort.
Some chairs turned upside down upon a table will make
the battlements of a wall-surmounted by a large Union
Enter CORPORAL, with a telescope; seems to survey a
considerable distance.

Corp. The river's pretty clear, both up and down.
There seems a great commotion in the town.
We're ready for you, Mounseers; you'll be caught,
As sure as ever you come near this fine old Bilbury
[Sings; slowly pacing up and down.

AIR-" Fine Old English Gentleman."

This fine old Bilbury Fort, my men,
One of the olden time.


Enter COLONEL FIZZBALL. CORPORAL gives military salute.

Col. Well, Corporal, what news? You've kept a good
look out ?
Corp. Yes, sir, I don't see no suspicious, wicious, foreign
craft about.
Col. The people fly from Graverstown, they're so extremely
I think 'tis but a false alarm, but still, we'll be pre-
Corp. They're well protected too, sir, I wonder at their
When guarded right and left by their gallant Volun-
Col. Artillery and Rifle Corps-and opposite are we.
Between us both the French will wish they'd never put
to sea.
Let no one pass without the word I whisper in your
ear. [Whispers to CORP.
Corp. I'll keep a strict and faithful watch; your honour need
not fear.
[COLONEL sings. AIR-" Death of Nelson."
"England expects that every man this day will do his duty."
[CORPORAL takes another survey.
Enter KITTY, with bundle and bandbox, seemingly in great
Kitty. Oh! Corporal, good Corporal. Oh, pray do let me pass ;
I am so frightened, I must go, I cannot stay, alas !


Corp. What! Mrs. Colonel Fizzball's maid! and all in such
a flutter !
You look as if you'd quarrelled, Kitty, with your
Kitty. They say the French are coming,-
Corp. Well, and suppose they do.
You don't think they would meddle with a nobody
like you!
Kitty. (Indignantly.) Nobody, sir, was somebody, sir, once to
I know who.
Corp. Does your Lady know you're out?
Kitty. Not unless she has been told.
Corp. (Turning away.) Go back and curl her hair.
Kitty. (Reproachfully.) You know she wears it rolled.
(Trying to pass him.)
Do let me go; those dreadful guns look so extremely
And I can get to London at the cost of just one
Corp. The fare is raised, my dear, to twopence more.
Kitty. What then, sir ? I can pay it-I 'm not so very poor.
Corp. My orders are, let no one pass, unless they give the
Kitty. The word what is it? Tell me; for, indeed, I have
not heard.
Corp. You'd best go quickly back; the Colonel is severe.
He '11 try you for deserting,-
Kitty. What shall I do; O dear !
Good Corporal, remember this, you asked me once to


Corp. And you said, "No, not I, indeed! You though ht
to get young Harry.
Kitty. Well, let me go; I promise then, I really will --
consider -
Corp. Too late for that, sweet Kitty, dear; I've wooed a
charming widder,
With lots of tin, which is not tin, but bright and
shining gold;
And so you see (in vulgar tongue) that you, Mam'selle,
are sold.

[KITTY makes a sudden dart to pass him, but he again
stops her.
Kitty. You barbarous man, how would you like to see me die
of fright?
I know I shall, unless, indeed, the Frenchmen kill me
Corp. Oh, no, not quite, they're too polite, to kill my lady's
They'll treat you, p'raps, with half.and-half, of true
Imperial measure.
(Aside.) That seems to shock her.
Kitty. You cruel, cruel mocker,
You know you treat me as you shouldn't ought,
I only wish that I could leave the Fort,
SAnd never see your face again,
And never hear you speak,
[Shrill whistle heard
O dear, 0 dear, I've lost the train,
I hear the engine shriek.


[Takces up her things, hastily, a bonnet falls out of the
box. CORPORAL catches it up.

Corp. Hulloa-a prize,
Let's feast our eyes (inspects it).
Kitty. ( T'. :y to get it from him.) Oh, my best bonnet!
How dare you put your hand upon it?
Corp. (Holding it out of her reach.)
A bonnet blue all round the border,
Very little out of order,
Scarcely has been worn.
(To AUDIENCE) Who bids for this becoming bonnet ?
Pray some one put a price upon it,
Going, going, gone.

[Makes pretence of throwing it over the wall.

Kitty. A pretty sentinel you are;
I'd make a better one by far,
I'd scorn to tease a woman then;
I'd keep MY eyes and tongue for men.
Corp. Ha! here comes the Colonel, quick, march away.

[Tosses her the bonnet.

Kitty. (Looking round.) My lady too Oh dear, what will
she say ?

[Gathers up her things hastily and hides behind a



Mrs. F. (To COLONEL.)
Now really is there need of all this fuss ?
Has not Napoleon shaken hands with us?
Are we not friends ? heed not the idle tale,
To fear a French invasion is so very stale.
Col. For anything, and everything, for nothing I am
For peace or war I live or die.
Mrs. F. My own, my gallant Teddy.
Colonel. (Sings.) "England expects that every man this day
will do his duty." Now, Corporal, give me the glass.
[CORPORAL hands it to him and retreats to a respectful
Mrs. F. Nay, dearest, give it me.
[Takes it from COLONEL.
I will mount guard and tell you when the enemy
I see.
Col. You'd better keep within, indeed, my love.
Mrs. F. Not I, I'm not afraid.
Corp. (Aside.) Rather a contrast here between the mistress
and the maid.
Mrs. F. I'm sure I have no cause for fear from such a
gallant nation.
Col. You'd strike the man who came near you.
Mrs. F. (Interrupting him astonished.) I'd strike him,
love ?
Col. You'd strike him, love-with admiration !
Mrs. F. (Bows to the compliment.) [COLONEL sings.


Am.-" My Mary Ann."
Glance those bright eyes o'er the water, love,
And tell me who is coming if you can;
Be they here or there, not a man shall dare
To do harm or hurt to my Mary Ann.

Mrs. F. (Looking through the telescope.)
I see a steamer, and yacht, a fishing boat or two,
The river looks so calmly, deeply, beautifully blue;
Ah! now I see-
Col. What! what!
Mrs. F. I see-a little smoke.
Col. (Gravely.) Those who mount guard in Bilbury Fort
are not allowed to joke.
Mrs. F. What's that! look there !
Col. and Corp. Oh where, where, where ?

[Both look eagerly into the distance.

Mrs. F. I see them on their winding way,
About their sails the sunbeams play,
I see, a fleet !
Col. and Corp. A fleet! a fleet! !!
Mrs. F. (Turning round.) Why, Corporal, you're white as
any sheet !
Corp. (Indignantly.) Excuse me, ma'am.
Col. Nonsense, my dear; for courage he don't don't lack.
Mrs. F. I beg your pardon, Corporal Dick, I see you now
look black.

[COLONEL, in a state of excitement to CORPORAL, who is


so anxious to hear that he repeats the last word of
every line after him, each taking a step nearer the
door at the same time.

Col. Oh, then, if it's true (Corp. repeats) true,
The first thing to do (Corp.) do,
Is to see every man at his post (Corp.) post.
We will pepper them well (Corp.) well,
None shall go back to tell (Corp.) tell,
Unless it is somebody's ghost (Corp.) ghost.

[Smothered scream from KITTY

[COLONEL and CORPORAL are about to rush off when,
MRS. F. exclaims: Stay, stay, you are too quick,
you did not let me finish; I think, for men of war,
these ships are rather thinnish; look for yourself.
(Gives the telescope to COLONEL, and tries to conceal
a smile.)

Col. (taking a survey.)
Well, Mrs. Colonel Fizzball, you have played a pretty
A fleet indeed! a fleet it is, but only colliers, Corporal
Colliers in plenty coming up, with sails all set.
Mrs. F. Coals instead of cannon, then I need not tremble
Kitty (emerges from her concealment.)
Oh, pray, ma'am, do you think we're safe? Oh
won't you go away ?


Mrs. F. (Surprised.) What, Kitty! if you wish to leave me,
go,-within the Fort I stay;
A soldier's wife can own no fear, she scorns to run
Kitty. And if I was a soldier's wife, should I? I almost
wish I was.
Corp. Then why did you refuse me, Kitty?
Kitty. Oh, why, because,
The widow-
Corp. Is all flummery-to my first love I'll stick,
If she will only promise to be Mrs. Corporal Dick.
[Music heard at a distance, piano, a march, softly.
Col. Hark, to the band! it's nine o'clock, your guard
shall be relieved,
And Kitty then can tell you if your vows can be
Mrs. F. And as our looked-for enemies so linger on their
I vote we go to breakfast, with what appetite we

[COLONEL gives his arm to MRS. F. The CORPORAL, in
imitation, offers his to KITTY, and all exit to the
sound of martial music.




COUNT FERDINAND . brother to Clarabella.

Ball-dress for the Ladies; officer's uniform for Lord
Ferdinand, not forgetting moustache; the Robber must make
himself look as ferocious as possible with the aid of a false,
rough-looking beard, whiskers, and some black patches-he
must carry pistols in his belt, also a dirk or dagger. The
Spirit of Comfort should appear in floating white and rose-
colour drapery-a gold circlet round the head, with a long
veil of rose-colour tarletan over a white dress, has a good
effect-gold wand in her hand.

OVERTURE.-" Sunshine after Rain."


SCEE.-Prison in a robber's fortress.-(This may be managed
by spreading a sheet over the carpet to represent a stone
floor, a wooden bench and couple of stools or kitchen chairs;
if the room is lit with gas, it should be turned very low
until the Spirit of Comfort appears- then simultaneously
with her appearance turned up to a brilliant light.)

BELLA CHERRYLIPS, followed by ROBBER, carrying a
Ara. (Clasping her hands.) Oh, what a desolate-looking
[CLARABELLA clings to her, seemingly in great distress.

Robber. Well, ladies, I hope you will make yourselves as
comfortable as you can under the circumstances; our noble
Captain will soon be here, and he will no doubt give you a
better lodging.
Cla. (In despairing accents.) Your captain Oh, what does
he want with us ? Good man, do have pity upon us !
Robber. Good man! come, that is rather rich; I don't
think the priest would say that a bold freebooter like myself
could possess much goodness, ha, ha!
Ara. The more reason you should do a good deed for once
in your life. See, here-we will give you all our ornaments
-(begins to unfasten them)-our brooches, our bracelets, our
rings-we will give you them all, if you will only let us go
before your dreadful Captain comes.
Rob. Ha, ha, bless your sweet innocence do you really
think we should wait for your gracious permission to enrich


ourselves with all these pretty things-they shan't encumber
you much longer, only we dare not touch them until the Cap-
tain comes; but you need not look so terrified-he won't
murder you, or do you any harm, beyond (here the following
sentence is to be said in a very gallant manner, bowing, in sup-
posed imitation of the CAPTAIN) requesting you to grace his
poor dwelling with your presence whilst he negotiates with
your friends for a ransom worthy of your beauty and rank
(in his natural tone) ; he's very polite to ladies, the Captain is.
It is not very brilliantly lit here, so I'll leave this lantern.
(Sets it down, and leaves them-makes a noise of locking the
door after him.)
Cla. Oh, my dear Araminta, where are we? we must be a
great distance from home-who could have dreamt of such a
termination to my birthnight party, to which we had been
looking forward with so much pleasure. I shall not live long,
I am sure, if we are not soon rescued from the power of these
wretches of robbers-I shall never dance again with Sir
Ara. Who would have thought when we just walked to the
end of the grove to look at the moon-
Cla. And to make our partners wonder at our disappear-
Ara. Who would have thought that we should have been
seized and forced into a close carriage ?
Cla. Gags stuffed into our mouths to prevent us from
Ara. I should not be surprised if the shape of mine was
spoiled for ever.
Cla. I wonder our dresses are not ruined !

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