THE song, that lightens the languid way, And faint with rowing, Is like the spell of Hope's airy lay, As we row along thro' waves so clear, Nothing is lost on him, who sees With an eye that Feeling gave; For him there's a story in ev'ry breeze, Then sing, to lighten the languid way; And faint with rowing: "Tis like the spell of Hope's airy lay, To whose sound thro' life we stray. Sir Charles Canvas, Lady Bab Blue, Miss Hartington, Miss Selwyn, and Davy, Lady B. land from the Boat. What a charming clear morning! I protest we might almost see the coast of France. Run, Davy, and fetch my telescope. Davy. I wool, my Lady. [Exit Davy to Boat.] Sir Charles. Ay, do, Davy the French coast is a favourite view of mine. Miss Selwyn. I thought, Sir Charles, your views lay nearer home. Sir C. Hem a hit at me for staying at home, while my brother is abroad fighting the enemy (aside). Why, really, Madam, if all the brains of country were to be exported through the Admiralty and the War-Office, you would have none left for home consumption. No no a few of us must stick to Old England, or her politics and fashions would be entirely neglected, and the devil would get amongst the ministers and the tailors. Miss Hartington. You suppose then, Sir Charles, that our politics and our fashions may be safely intrusted to the same hands. Sir C. Certainly, Madam there is nothing like us for leading either the ton or the Opposition for turning out either an equipage or an Administration; and equally knowing on the turf and the hustings, if a favourite horse breaks down, or a new patriot bolts, we can start you fresh ones at the shortest notice. Miss S. Your brother, however, seems to think, Sir Charles, that on the quarter-deck of a British man of war, he may make himself at least as useful to his country, as if he passed all his time between a barouche-box and the Treasury Bench. Sir C. That plaguy brother of mine is never out of her head (aside). Why, as to my brother Miss Selwyn my brother in short, Madam, if my brother had not been in such a hurry to come into the world, but had waited decently like me till his mother was married, he would not only have saved the family some blushes, but would have possessed, of course, the title, the fortune, and all those cogent little reasons which I now have for keeping this head of mine out of gun-shot, and employing it in the home department at your service. Miss. S. His want of feeling upon this misfortune of his family is quite odious. We must not stay to listen to him (To Miss Hartington.) Believe me, Sir Charles, you mistake the mode of recommending yourself, if you think to amuse by this display of levity upon a subject in which a parent's honour and a brother's interests are so very deeply and delicately concerned. The rude hand of the world will be ready enough to lift the veil, without requiring your aid in the [Exeunt Miss Hart. and Miss Selwyn. exposure. Sir C. Ay this now comes of talking facetiously upon grave subjects. "Tis the way in the House, tho', always — Adam Smith and Joe Miller well mixed, that's your Parliamentary style of eloquence. But what's our old Polyhymnia about here? [Turning to Lady Bab, who, during this time, has got the telescope, and is looking towards the sea.] Lady B. Well — positively there he is again. this is a most miraculous telescope - There moving on the coast of the great French the black must be Sir C. May I ask what your Ladyship has found out? Lady B. Something black and red, Sir Charles, that is opposite, which, my fond fancy persuades me, may be one chemists. There, there he goes again, the dear man! his face, and the red his night-cap What wonderful discoveries he may be making at this moment! Sir C. Not more wonderful than you are making yourself, I think, old lady! Lady B. Come here, Davy, and try what you can observe Your eyes have not suffered in the cause of science, like mine. Davy. Why, noa and, ecod! sometimes, of an evening, I can Like your Highland witches, I have a sight - not much see twice as much as other folk. to spare. - Sir C. (Aside.) I never yet knew a learned lady, that did not delight in having a booby to shew off upon. Whether it be in the shape of servant, lover, or husband, these curious copies of Sappho generally have a calf-skin at their backs. Davy. (Looking through the glass.) What colour did you say a chemist was, my Lady? Lady B. (Smiling.) Why, rather of the sober, tinge of the laboratory. As my friend Dr. ignorant people, Madam, have an objection to posed of, and am perfectly reconciled to it.' it like a philosopher. dingy than otherwise the dark, O‘Jargon often says to me 'Your dirt - but I know what it is comAnd so he is, good man! he bears Davy. By gum! I see it now, sailing away to windward like smoke. Lady B. Sailing! you blockhead! Davy. Ees and if you had not tould me 'twas a chemist, I could have sworn 'twas a great collier from Newcastle. Lady B. Ha! plenty of the carbonic, however! But, pray, Sir Charles, what has become of my niece and Miss Hartington? Sir C. Just pair'd off, Madam, as we say at St. Stephen's, and left me in silent admiration of the ease with which your Ladyship's vision can travel to the coast of France, while the eyes of this unlettered rustic can reach no farther than the middle of the Channel. to be half seas over is quite enough for any mo Lady B. Hold your familiar tongue, and follow me Sir Charles, shall we try and find the young ladies? Sir C. With all my heart though, I assure your Ladyship, the humour in which Miss Selwyn adjourned the debate made me rather fear that I was put off till this day six months. stances - -- Lady B. There are some of my sex, Sir Charles, like certain chemical subit is impossible to melt them, because they fly off in vapour during the process. My niece, I confess, is of this fly-away nature; while I, alas! am but too fusible. Come, Davy, bring the telescope safely after me. [Exeunt Sir C. and Lady B. Davy. I wool, my Lady (looking after her). What a comical thing your larning is! Now, here am I, as a body may say, in the very thick on't. Nothing but knowledge, genus, and what not, from morning till night, and yet, dang it, somehow, none of it sticks to me. It wouldn't be so in other concarns - Now, in a public house for instance, I think I could hardly be among the liquors all day, without some of them finding their way into my mouth here's this larning thof I be made a kind of accomplice in it by my lady, I am as innocent of it all as the Parson of our parish. "Tis bekase I'm a poet,, you see, "That I kiver my head with green baize!' Sir. To bother themselves and the nation! There's Dick, who sold wine in the lane, And a place he call'd Constantinople. But he thought of poor Turkey, he said, Sir; And swore, while he tippled his wine, That the Porte was ne'er out of his head, Sir. The grocer, Will Fig, who so fast Thro' his cyphers and figures could run ye, By gum! he has nothing, at last, But the cyphers to show for his money. The barber, a scollard, well known At the sign of the wig hanging from a tree, Makes ev'ry head like his own, For he cuts them all up into geometry! Oh this writing and reading! &c. SCENE II. An Apartment at Mr. HARTINGTON'S. Enter Miss SELWYN and Miss HARTINGTON. Miss Hart. My dear Miss Selwyn - I am so happy for once to have you quietly in my father's house. We never should have got so intimate in London. Miss S. In London! oh, never. What with being at home to nobody in the morning, and being at home to every body in the evening, there is no such thing as intimacy amongst us. We are like those ladies of Bagdad, in "The Arabian Nights,' who entertained strangers in their illuminated apartments, upon condition that they would not ask to know any thing further about them. Miss Hart. But I had almost forgot Sir Charles Canvas. Miss S. Nothing so likely to slip out of one's memory, my dear. Miss Hart. I am quite happy to hear you say so, as I rather feared Sir Charles was a lover of yours. Miss S. And so he unfortunately is He loves me with a sort of electioneering regard for the influence which my fortune would give him among the freeholders. In short, he canvasses my heart and the county together, and for every vow expects a vote. Miss Hart. I had always supposed till now that Captain Canvas was the elder of the two. Miss S. You were right, my dear: he is older by a year than Sir Charles But their father, the late Baronet, having married his lady privately in France, Captain Canvas was born before their marriage was avowed, and before the second solemnization of it, which took place publicly in England. Though no one doubts the validity of the first union, yet the difficulty, indeed the impossibility, of proving it, from the total want of witness or document, has been taken advantage of by Sir Charles to usurp the title and fortune, while his brave and admirable brother is carelessly wandering over the ocean, with no fortune but his sword, no title but his glory! Miss Hart. I am not at all surprised at the warmth with which you speak of Captain Canvas I knew him once very well (sighs). -- Miss S. Very well, did you say, Miss Hartington? Miss Hart. Oh! no- not indeed scarcely at all. seen him. He was the friend of poor De Rosier (aside). Miss S. That sigh him too (aside). that confusion I meant merely that I had You yes yes I see it plain she loves [Mr. Hartington's voice heard without. Miss Hart. My father's voice! what a lucky relief! I am so happy, my dear Miss Selwyn, in the opportunity of introducing you to my father. must not be suprised at the oddity of his appearance he is just now setting out upon one of those benevolent rambles, for which he dresses himself like the meanest of mankind; being convinced that, in this homely garb, he finds an easier access to the house of Misfortune, and that proud Misery unburdens her heart more freely for him who seems to share in her wants, than for him who ostentatiously comes to relieve them. Enter Mr. HARTINGTON, meanly dressed. Dear father! my friend, Miss Selwyn. - Mr. Hart. I fear, Miss Selwyn, I shall alarm you by these tatters Fine ladies, like crows, are apt to be frightened away by rags. Miss S. When we know, Sir, the purpose for which this disguise is assumed, it looks brighter in our eyes than the gayest habiliments of fashion for when charity Mr. Hart. Nay, nay, child, no flattery You have learned these fine speeches from your aunt, Lady Bab, who is, if I mistake not, what the world calls a Blue-Stocking. Miss S. In truth, Sir, I rather fear my aunt has incurred that title. Mr. Hart. Yes I knew her father yes he was a man of erudition himself, and, having no son to inherit his learning, was resolved to lay out every syllable of it upon this daughter, and accordingly stuffed her head with all that was legible and illegible, without once considering that the female intellect may possibly be too weak for such an experiment, and that, if guns were made of glass, we should be but idly employed in charging them. Miss S. And would you, then, shut us out entirely from the light of learning? Mr. Hart. No no learn as much as you please, but learn also to conceal it. I could even bear a little peep at the blue-stockings, but save me from the woman who shews them up to her knees! - Miss Hart. Nay, father, you speak severely. But, Mr. Hart. Perhaps I do, child, and lose my time in the bargain. here, make Miss Selwyn welcome, while I go to my bureau to fill this little ammunition-pouch (shewing a small leather purse) for my day's sport among the cottages. Oh, money! money! let bullionists and paper-mongers say what they will, the true art of raising the value of a guinea is to share it with those, who are undeservedly in want of it! Miss S. (looking after him) Excellent man! [Exit. Miss Hart. But were you not a little shocked by the misery of his appearance? Miss. S. Oh! not at all. He seems to me like one of those dark clouds, that lay between us and the moon last night gloomy and forbidding on its outward surface, but lined with the silver light of heaven within! DUET. Miss SELWYN and Miss HARTINGTON. [Exeunt. Sir Charles (speaking without). Miss Selwyn! your aunt has despatched me to say that avoids me, as if I was a collector of the income-tax. (Enters) Miss Selwyn! Miss Selwyn! has the impudence to dislike me without asking her aunt's consent negatives me without a division But I'll have her yet I'll marry her (as I got into Parliament) for oppositions sake. Snug house this of her friend Miss Hartington's. Her father, I hear, a rich banker. I rather suspect too that little Tory is somewhat taken with me. She listened to every thing I said as attentively as a Reporter. Well egad! in case should fail in the one, I think I may as well make sure of the other. "Two strings to my bow, as Lord Either-Side says in the House.' But who have we here? Oh! some poor pensioner of the family, I suppose One, too, who must have got his pension upon very honest terms, for his coat is evidently not worth turning. Mr. Hart. Some troublesome visitor, that I must get rid of (aside). Sir. C. Pray, my good friend, is there any one at home? Mr. Hart. No, Sir. Sir C. I thought his friends were out by his looking so shabby (aside). And you, Sir, I presume, are a quarterly visitor to this family haps or weekly - - the Treasury, I know, pays quarterly. or monthly, per Mr. Hart. It is true, Sir, I am dependent upon the master of this house for all the comfort and happiness I enjoy. Sir C. I knew it at the first glance I knew it. Let me alone for the physiognomy of placemen and pensioners from the careless smile of the sinecure holder, to the keen forward-looking eye of the reversionist. This fellow may be useful to me (aside). – And what are the services, pray, which you render in return to your benefactor? Mr. Hart. The smile, Sir, which his good actions always leave upon my cheek, and the sweet sleep which he knows I enjoy, after witnessing the happy effects of his charity, are ample repayment to him for the utmost efforts of his benevolence. Sir C. Then, upon my soul, he is more easily paid than any of those I have ever had dealings with. I could smile bright or sleep heavy; but the guineas, being both bright and heavy, were always preferred to my smiling and sleeping. Mr. Hart. I shall be kept here all day by this troublesome coxcomb (aside). Your pardon, Sir, I have some business to transact for Mr. Hartington. Sir C. Stay, my fine fellow, just one minute. How should you like to have an opportunity of serving your benefactor, and receiving the thanks of this honourable house for your good offices? Mr. Hart. Every thing that concerns Mr. Hartington, Sir, is as dear to me as my own immediate interests. - Sir C. Exactly what we say of Great Britain in the House 'Every thing that concerns Great Britain is as dear to me (mimicking) 'But, I say, my old pensioner, you know the boarding-house down street? (Mr. H. nods his head.) Good feeding there, by the bye commons fit for Lords only that the bills are brought in too early in the session But call upon me there to-morrow or next day, and I'll employ you in some way that may be useful to you. In the mean time, as old Hartington seems to have a few amiable oddities about charity and so forth, you can tell him, if you have an opportunity, that I too have a wonderful taste that way. Oh! you smile, Sir, do you? Well, then, to shew you that I have, here's (takes out his purse) yet stay just wait till my friends come into power, and, as I think you love tippling, I'll get you made a gauger, you dog! Mr. Hart. Keep your patronage, Sir, for those who want it, and, above all, for those who deserve it. The master of this house is, thank Heaven! the only patron I require. Let but my conduct meet with his approbation, and I may look up, with hope, to that highest of places, which the power of monarchs cannot give, nor the caprices of this world deprive me of. [Exit. Sir C. Well said, old boy though, for the soul of me, I cannot imagine what is the Place he alludes to. "Tis not in the Red-Book, I'm sure But no matter he may be useful in delivering a billet-doux for me to Miss Hartington. Cursed troublesome things those billet-doux! When I'm Chancellor of the Exchequer, I mean to propose a tax on them— (mimicking some public speaker) — ‘Mr. Chairman! I move that all love-dealings shall be transacted upon stamps. Soft nonsense, Sir, upon a one-and-sixpenny when the passion is to any amount, an eighteen-pen'orth 'No- and a proposal for marriage curse it I'll not lay any thing additional upon marriage. It never came under the head of luxuries, and is quite tax more enough in itself. SCENE III. Another Apartment in Mr. HARTINGTON's House. [Exit. Miss Hart. How long this loitering girl is away! my heart sickens with anxiety for her return. It cannot surely be De Rosier whom I saw at the library and yet his features, air, manner, altogether scarcely leave a doubt upon my heart. Oh, De Rosier! What strange caprice of Fortune can have lowered thy station in life so suddenly? And yet, wealth was not the charm that attracted me, could riches shed one additional grace upon that which is bright and estimable already. SONG. Miss Hartington. When Leila touch'd the lute, But, when the sounds were mute, Sweet lute! in nightly slumbers Still we heard thy morning numbers. Ah! how could she, who stole Be led, in pride of soul, To string with gold her lyre? But where are all the tales And soft ones suit not gold. nor |