Mrs. C. Well, but this may be all a mistake. You know, Sir Benjamin, very trifling circumstances often give rise to the most injurious tales.

Crab. That they do, I'll be sworn, ma'am. O lud! Mr. Surface, pray, is it true that your uncle, Sir Oliver, is coming home?

Joseph S. Not that I know of, indeed, sir.

Crab. He has been in the East Indies a long time. You can scarcely remember him, I believe? Sad comfort whenever he returns, to hear how your brother has

gone on.

Joseph S. Charles has been imprudent, sir, to be sure; but I hope no busy people have already prejudiced Sir Oliver against him. He may reform.

Sir B. To be sure he may; for my part, I never believed him to be so utterly void of principle as people say; and though he has lost all his friends, I am told nobody is better spoken of by the Jews.

Crab. That's true, egad, nephew. If the Old Jewry was a ward, I believe Charles would be an alderman : no man more popular there! I hear he pays as many annuities as the Irish tontine; and that, whenever he is sick, they have prayers for the recovery of his health in all the synagogues.

Sir B. Yet no man lives in greater splendor. They tell me, when he entertains his friends, he will sit down to dinner with a dozen of his own securities; have a score of tradesmen waiting in the antechamber, and an officer behind every guest's chair.

Joseph S. This may be entertainment to you, gentlemen; but you pay very little regard to the feelings of a brother.

Maria. Their malice is intolerable. Lady Sneerwell, I must wish you a good-morning: I'm not very

well.

[Exit Maria. Mrs C. O dear! she changes color very much. Lady S. Do, Mrs. Candour, follow her: she may want your assistance.

Mrs. C. That I will, with all my soul, ma'am. Poor, dear girl, who knows what her situation may be ! [Exit Mrs. Candour. Lady S. 'Twas nothing but that she could not bear to hear Charles reflected on, notwithstanding their difference.

Sir B. The young lady's penchant is obvious. Crab. But, Benjamin, you must not give up the pursuit for that: follow her, and put her into good humor. Repeat her some of your own ver-es. Come, I'll assist you.

looked, and the family pictures, which I believe are framed in the wainscots.

Sir B. And I'm very sorry, also, to hear some bad stories against him.

Crab. Oh! he has done many mean things, that's
certain.
Sir B.
Crab.

But, however, as he is your brother-
We'll tell you all another opportunity.

[Exeunt Crabtree and Sir Benjamin. Lady S. Ha, ha! 'tis very hard for them to leave a subject they have not quite run down. Joseph S. And I believe the abuse was no more acceptable to your ladyship than Maria.

Lady S. I doubt her affections are further engaged than we imagine. But the family are to be here this evening, so you may as well dine where you are, and we shall have an opportunity of observing further; in the meantime, I'll go and plot mischief, and you shall study sentiment. [Exeunt. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

AETER DEATH, WHAT?

CATO alone; in his hand Plato's book on the Immortality of the Soul.

A drawn sword on the table by him.

T must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well-
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter; And intimates eternity to man :

Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,
Through what new scenes and changes must we pass?
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me,
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a power above
(And that there is all nature cries aloud
Through all her works), he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy.
But when! or where!-this world was made for Cæsar.
I'm weary of conjectures—this must end 'em

Sir B. Mr. Surface, I did not mean to hurt you; but, depend on't, your brother is utterly undone. Crab. O lud, ay! undone as ever man was. raise a guinea!

Can't

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

A DAGGER OF THE MIND.

FROM "MACBETH." [MACBETH before the murder of Duncan, meditating alone, sees the image of a dagger in the air, and thus soliloquizes:]

'S this a dagger which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressèd brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.-There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business, which informs

Thus to mine eyes.-Now o'er the one half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtained sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and withered murder,
Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost.-Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
The very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. --Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
(A bell rings.)

I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

were, the snowy beauty of Greece in the coal-smoke atmosphere of London; in a word, my lord—but as yet 'tis a profound secret-it is to paint St. Paul's! To give it a virgin outside-to make it so truly respectable.

Lord Skin. A gigantic effort!

Sir P. The fancy fair will be on a most comprehensive and philanthropic scale. Every alderman takes a stall, and to give you an idea of the enthusiasm of the city-but this also is a secret-the Lady Mayoress has been up three nights making pincushions.

Lord Skin. But you don't want me to take a stall -to sell pincushions?

Sir P. Certainly not, my lord. And yet your philanthropic speeches in the House, my lord, convince me that, to obtain a certain good, you would sell anything.

Lord Skin. Well, well; command me in any way; benevolence is my foible.

[COMPANIES For leasing Mount Vesuvius, FOR MAKING A TRIP ALL AROUND THE World, for BUYING THE SERPENTINE RIVER, ETC.]

Captain Smoke. We are about to start a company to take on lease Mount Vesuvius for the manufacture of lucifer matches.

Sir P. A stupendous speculation! I should say that, when its countless advantages are duly numbered, it will be found a certain wheel of fortune to the enlightened capitalist.

Smoke. Now, sir, if you would but take the chair at the first meeting—(Aside to Chatham: We shall make it all right about the shares)—if you would but speak for two or three hours on the social improvement conferred by the lucifer-match, with the monopoly of sulphur secured in the company-a monopoly which will suffer no man, woman, or child to strike a light without our permission.

Chatham. Truly, sir, in such a cause, to such an auditory-I fear my eloquence.

Smoke. Sir, if you would speak well anywhere, there's nothing like first grinding your eloquence on a mixed meeting. Depend on 't, if you can only manage a little humbug with a mob, it gives you great confidence for another place.

Lord Skin. Smoke, never say humbug; its coarse. Sir P. And not respectable.

world. We propose to hire a three-decker of the Lords of the Admiralty, and fit her up with every accommodation for families. We've already advertised for wet-nurses and maids of all work.

Sir P. A magnificent project! And then the fittings-up will be so respectable. A delightful billiardtable in the ward-room; with, for the humbler classes, skittles on the orlop-deck. Swings and archery for the ladies, trap-ball and cricket for the children, whilst the marine sportsman will find the stock of gulls unlimited. Weippert's quadrille band is engaged, and—

carry a parson.

Chat. And the object?

Smoke. Pleasure and education. At every new country we shall drop anchor for at least a week, that the children may go to school and learn the language. The trip must answer: 'twill occupy only three years, and we've forgotten nothing to make it delightfulnothing from hot rolls to cork jackets.

Brown. And now, sir, the third venture? Smoke. That, sir, is a company to buy the Serpentine River for a Grand Junction Temperance Cemetery. Brown. What! so many watery graves? Smoke. Yes, sir, with floating tombstones. Here's the prospectus. Look here; surmounted by a hyacinth-the very emblem of temperance-a hyacinth flowering in the limpid flood. Now, if you don't feel equal to the lucifers-I know his lordship's goodnessWe'll give you up the cemetery. (Aside to Chatham: A family vault as a bonus to the chairman.)

Sir P. What a beautiful subject for a speech! Water lilies and aquatic plants gemming the translucent crystal, shells of rainbow brightness, a constant supply of gold and silver fish, with the right of angling secured to shareholders. The extent of the river being necessarily limited, will render lying there so select, so very respectable.

DREAMS.

Douglas Jerrold.

FROM ROMEO AND JULIET."

ERCUTIO.-O then, I see, queen Mab hath
been with you.

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes,
In shape no bigger than an agate stone

On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film;
Her waggoner, a small gray-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm,
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,

Tickling a parson's nose as he lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice :
Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And, being thus frightened, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which, once entangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she-

Romeo. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talkest of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams : Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain phantasy ; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes E'en now the frozen bosom of the North, And, being angered, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

LOVE'S ECSTACY.

FROM THE FALCON."

REDERICK.-GIANA! my Giana! we will have
Nothing but halcyon days: Oh! we will live
As happily as the bees that hive their sweets,
And gaily as the summer fly, but wiser :

I'll be thy servant ever; yet not so.
Oh! my own love, divinest, best, I'll be
Thy sun of life, faithful through every season,
And thou shalt be my flower perennial,
My bud of beauty, my imperial rose,
My passion flower, and I will wear thee on
My heart, and thou shalt never, never fade.
I'll love thee mightily, my queen, and in
The sultry hours I'll sing thee to thy rest
With music sweeter than the wild birds' song:
And I will swear thine eyes are like the stars,
(They are, they are, but softer) and thy shape

Fred. I'll be a miser of thee; watch thee ever:
At morn, at noon, at eve, and all the night.
We will have clocks that with their silver chime
Shall measure out the moments: and I'll mark
The time, and keep love's pleasant calendar.
To-day I'll note a smile: to morrow how
Your bright eyes spoke-how saucily; and then
Record a kiss plucked from your currant lip,
And say how long 'twas taking; then, thy voice
As rich as stringed harp swept by the winds
In autumn, gentle as the touch that falls
On serenader's moonlit instrument-
Nothing shall pass unheeded. Thou shalt be
My household goddess-nay, smile not, nor shake
Backwards thy clustering curls, incredulous:

I swear it shall be so: it shall, my love.
Gia. Why thou'rt mad indeed: mad.
Fred. Oh! not so.

There was a statuary once who loved

And worshipped the white marble that he shaped;
Till, as the story goes, the Cyprus' queen,
Or some such fine kind-hearted deity,
Touched the pale stone with life, and it became
At last Pygmalion's bride: but thee, on whom
Nature had lavished all her wealth before,
Now love has touched with beauty: doubly fit
For human worship thou, thou-let me pause,
My breath is gone.

Gia. With talking.

-Oh! ever while those floating orbs look bright,
Shalt thou to me be a sweet guiding light.
Once, the Chaldean from the topmost tower
Did watch the stars, and then assert their power
Throughout the world: so, dear Giana, I
Will vindicate my own idolatry.

And in the beauty and the spell that lies
In the dark azure of thy love-lit eyes;
In the clear veins that wind thy neck beside,
'Till in the white depths of thy breast they hide,
And in thy polished forehead, and thy hair
Heaped in thick tresses on thy shoulders fair;
In thy calm dignity; thy modest sense;
In thy most soft and winning eloquence;
In woman's gentleness and love (now bent
On me, so poor) shall lie my argument.
BRYAN WALLer Procter (Barry Cornwall).

FROM "OTHELLO."

REPUTATION.

OOD name, in man and woman, dear iny lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis some

thing, nothing;

'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands. But he that filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

JEALOUSY. Trifles light as air

Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong
As proofs of holy writ.

OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF.
That handkerchief

Did an Egyptian to my mother give;

She was a charmer and could almost read

The thoughts of people; she told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father Entirely to her love; but if she lost it,

Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wived,
To give it her. I did so; and take heed of't,
Make it a darling, like your precious eye;
To lose 't or give 't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.-

There's magic in the web of it:
A sibyl, that had numbered in the world
The sun to make two hundred compasses,

In her prophetic fury sewed the work:
The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk;
And it was dyed in mummy, which the skilful
Conserved of maidens' hearts.

OTHELLO'S PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF HIS WIFE.

Desdemona. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?