ber get up together; some cry ANVIL, liquor. Ay, gentlemen may stare: I say, and I others JACOB. Pre. Mr Anvil. Anvil. Mr President, sir [The members all blow their noses, and cough; ANVIL talks all the while, but is not heard. Pre. Silence, gentlemen; pray, gentlemen! A worthy member is up. say it upon my conscience, I don't know such a liquor. Besides, I think there is in this here affair a point of law, which I shall leave to the consideration of the learned; and for that there reason, I shall take up no more of your time. Anvil. I say, Mr President, that if we consider this case in its utmost extent-[All the mem-I bers cough, and blow their noses again.] I say, sir, I will. Nay, I insist on being heard. If any gentleman has any thing to say any where else, I'll hear him. For [Members all laugh: ANVIL sits down in a passion, and SLAUGHTER gets up. Pre. Mr Samuel Slaughter. Slaugh. Sir, I declare it, at the bare hearing of this here motion, I am all over in a sweat. my part, I can't think what gentlemen mean by talking in that there manner; not but I likes that every man should deliver his mind; I does mine; it has been ever my way; and when a member opposes me, I like him the better for it; its right; I am pleased; he can't please me more; it is as it should be; and though I differ from the ho nourable gentleman in the flannel night-cap over the way, yet I am pleased to hear him say what he thinks; for, sir, as I said, it is always my rule to say what I think, right or wrong. [A loud laugh.] Ay, ay, gentlemen may laugh; with all my heart, I am used to it, I don't mind it a farthing: but, sir, with regard to that there motion, I entirely agree with my worthy friend with the pewter pot at his mouth. Now, sir, I would fain ask any gentleman this here question: Can any thing in nature be more natural for an Englishman than porter? I declare, Mr President, I think it the most wholesomest liquor in the world. But if it must be a change, let us change it for rum, a wholesome, palatable liquor, a liquor that -in short, Mr President, I don't know such a [He sits down, CATCHPOLE gets up. Pre. Mr Catchpole. Catch. I get up to the point of law. And though, sir, I am bred to the business, I can't say am prepared for this question. But though this usquebaugh, as a dram, may not (by name) be subject to a duty, yet it is my opinion, or rather belief, it will be considered, as in the case of horses, to come under the article of dried goods. But I move, that another day this point be debated. Slaugh. I second the motion. [CATCHPOLE gives a paper to the President, who reads it.] Pre. Hear your motion. 'That it be debated next Thursday, Whether the dram, usquebaugh, is subject to a particular duty; or, as the case of horses, to be consider'ed under the article of dried goods? All. Agreed, agreed ! Foote. And now, ladies and gentlemen, having produced to you glaring proofs of our great ability in every species of oratory; having manifested, in the persons of our pupils, our infinite address in conveying our knowledge to others, we shall close our morning's lecture, instituted for the public good, with a proposal for the particular improvement of individuals. We are ready to give private instructions to any reverend gentleman, in his probationary sermon for a lectureship; to young barristers, who have causes to open, or motions to make; to all condidates for the sock or buskin; or to the new members of any of those oratorical societies, with which this metropolis is at present so plentifully stocked. [Exeunt omnes, VOL. III. 2 U SCENE I-A room in EMILY's house. Enter EMILY, with a letter open in her hand; and MADEMOISELLE FLORIVAL in man's clothes. Emily. Be assured, that I will do every thing in my power to serve you; my brother knew that he might command my service-Be comforted, I beseech you, madam. ken into my father's house; and, as I, in the very took some pleasure in my conversation. In a early part of my life, had resided in England, he word, he won my affections, and asked me of my father in marriage: but he, alas! too much influenced by the narrow prejudices so common between the two nations, forbade the officer his house, but not before we were, by the most solemn engagements, secretly contracted to each other. Flo. You cannot wonder, madam, that I should be shocked, extremely shocked, at the cruel necessity of appearing before you in so indelicate a Emily. May I ask the officer's name? disguise. Flo. Excuse me, madam. Till I see or hear Emily. Indeed you need not: there is some-from him once more, my prudence, vanity, or thing in your manner, which convinces me, that call it what you will, will scarce suffer me to every action of your life carries its apology along mention it. Your brother, indeed, is acquainted with it; though I will not venture to inquire into withthe particulars of your story till your mind is more at ease. Flo. Alas, madam, it is my interest to make you acquainted with my story. I am the daughter of Monsieur Florival, a French physician, in the island of Belleisle. An English officer, who had been desperately wounded, was, after the capitulation, for the sake of due attendance, ta Emily. I beg your pardon--I hope, however, you have no reason to think yourself neglected or forgotten? Flo. Oh no; far from it. He was soon recalled by orders from England; and on my father's pressing me to consent to another match, my passion-I blush to own it-transported me so far, as to depart abruptly from Belleisle. I came over in an English ship to Portsmouth, Bell. A fine soldier, indeed !----I can't bear to where I expected, according to letters he had see a red coat cover any thing but a man, sister. contrived to send me, to find the officer. But,-Give me a soldier that looks as if he could love Judge of my disappointment, when I learnt, that he embarked, but three days before, for the siege of the Havannah. Emily. The Havannah !--You touch me nearly---Pray, go on. me, and protect me; ay, and tame me, too, if I deserved it.---If I was to have this thing for a husband, I would set him at the top of the India cabinet with the China figures, and bid the maid take care she did not break him. Emily. Well, well; if this is the case, I don't know what my brother will say to you. Here's his letter; read it, and send him an answer your Flo. In a strange kingdom--alone---and a wo- Emily. And you may depend on my friendship. Flo. Oh, madam, it is impossible to tell you half its miseries; especially since your brother has convinced me that I am so liable to be discovered. Emily. You shall throw off that dress as soon as possible, and then I will take you into the house with me and my sister-In the mean time, let me see you every dayevery hour. I shall not be afraid that your visits will affect my reputation. me. Flo. You are too good to me. [Weeping. Flo. I humbly take my leave. on you. Emily. Adieu, I shall expect you to dinner. Flo. I shall do myself the honour of waiting [Exit FLO. Emily. Poor woman!. I thought my own uneasiness almost insupportable; and yet, how much must her anxiety exceed mine! Enter BELL. Bell. So, sister! I met your fine gentleman. Upon my word, the young spark must be a favourite.You have had a tête-à-tête of above half an hour together. Emily. How d'ye like him? Bell. Not at all: a soft lady-like gentleman, with a white hand, a mincing step, and a smooth chin. Where does this pretty master come from? Emily. From my brother. Emily. A present to you. Bell. A present to me! what d'ye mean? Emily. What then! Why, he has taken care of you---sent you a pretty fellow for a husband. Could he possibly take better care of you? Bell. A husband !---a puppet, a doll, a--- Bell. [Reads.] Dear sister, the bearer of this letter is a lady !---So, so! your servant, madam! and your's, too, sister whose case is truly compassionate, and whom I most earnestly re'commend to your protection,'---Um---um—-um --- take care of her,'--Uin---um---um---“ not too many questions ;'---Um--um---um--' in town in a few days.'--I'll be whipt now, if this is not some mistress of his? Emily. No, no, Bell. I know her whole history It is quite a little novel. She is a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Florival, run away from her father at Belleisle, and dying for an English gentleman at the Havannah. Bell. The Havannah!-Not for colonel Tamper, I hope, sister? Emily. If colonel Tamper had been at the taking of Belleisle, too, I should have been frightened out of my wits about it. Bell. Suppose I should bring you some news of him? Emily. Of whom? Bell. Colonel Tamper. Emily. What do you mean? Bell. Only a card. Emily. A card! from whom? What card? Bell. Oh, what a delightful flutter it puts her into ! Emily. Nay, but tell me. Bell. Well then-while your visitor was here, there came a card from major Belford; and I took the liberty of sending an answer to it. Emily. Let me see it! Dear Bell, let me see it! Bell. Oh, it was nothing but his compliments, and desiring to have the honour of waiting on you any time this morning from colonel Tamper. Emily. From colonel Tamper!----What can this mean? I am ready to sink with fear-Why does he not come himself? unfortunate it is to doat upon a man, whose profession exposes him hourly to the risk of his life! Bell. Lord, Emily, how can you torment yourself with such horrid imaginations? Besides, should the worst come to the worst-it is but a lover lost; and that is a loss easily repaired, you know. for Emily. Go, you mad-cap! but you'll pay all this one day, I warrant you, when you come to be heartily in for it yourself. Bell, you will know, that when a pure and disinterested passion fills the breast, when once a woman has set her heart upon a man, nothing in the world but that very man will ever make her happy. Bell. I admire your setting your heart, as you call it, of all things. Your love, my dear Emily, is not so romantic. You pitch upon a man of figure and fortune, handsome, sensible, good-natured, and well-bred; of rank in life, and credit in his profession; a man that half the women in town would pull caps for; and then you talk, like a sly prude, of your pure and disinterested passion! Emily. Why, then, I declare, if he had not a friend on earth, or a shilling in the world if he was as miserable as the utmost malice of ill fortune could make him, I would prefer colonel Tamper to the first duke in the kingdom. Bell. Oh, sister, it is a mighty easy thing for persons rolling in affluence, and a coach and six, to talk of living on bread and water, and the comforts of love in a cottage. Emily. The coach-and-six, Bell, would give little happiness to those who could not be happy without it. When once the heart has settled its affections, how mean is it to withdraw them for any paltry considerations, of what nature soever! Bell. I think the lady doth protest too much. Emily, Ay, but she'll keep her word. Belf. He'll be here immediately, madam. Belf. But it was thought proper that I should wait on you first, to prepare you for his reception. Emily. To prepare me! What does he mean? Belf. Only to prevent your being alarmed at his appearance, madain. Emily. Alarmed! You terrify me more and more-what is the matter? Belf. Nay, nothing-a trifle-the mere chance of war-la fortune de la guerre, as the French call it; that's all, madam. Emily. I'm upon the rack-Dear sir, explain Belf. The colonel, you know, madam, is a man of spirit-Having exposed his person very gallantly in the several actions before the town of the Havannah, he received many wounds; one or two of which have been attended with rather disagreeable circumstances. Emily. But is the colonel well at present, sir? Belf. Extremely well, madam. Emily. Are not the consequences of his wounds likely to endanger his life? Belf. Not in the least, madam. Emily. I am satisfied-Pray go on, sir. Belf. Do not you be alarmed, madam. Emily. Keep me no longer in suspence, I be seech you, sir! Bell. What can all this mean? Belf. The two principal wounds which the colonel received, madam, were, one a little above the knee, and another in his face. In consequence of the first, he was reduced to the necessity of saving his life by the loss of a leg; and the latter has deprived him of the sight of an eye. Emily. Oh, Heavens ! [Ready to faint. Bell. Poor Emily! How could you be so abrupt, sir? The violent agitation of her mind is too much for her spirits. Belf. Excuse me, madam-I was afraid of making you uneasy; and yet it was necessary you should be acquainted with these circumstances, previous to your seeing the colonel. Emily. [Recovering.]—Lost a leg and an arm, did you say, sir? Belf. No, not an arm-an eye, madam. Emily. An eye! worse and worse—Poor colonel! Belf. Rather unfortunate, to be sure. But we should consider, madam, that we have saved his life; and these were sacrifices necessary for its preservation. Emily. Very true. his life, I am happy. tached to him, not compassion. Ay, ay, so as he has but And I ought now to be atonly from tenderness, but Belf. After all, madam, his appearance is Emily. Why have not we the pleasure of see- much better than you may imagine. His face, ing him, then? by the help of a black ribband, is very little dis figured; and he has got a false leg, made so naturally, that, except a small hitch in his gait, there is no material alteration in his person and deportment-Besides which, in point of health and spirits, he is particularly well. Emily. I am glad of it. But, alas! he, whose person was so charming! And then his eyes, that were so brilliant! So full of sensibility! Belf. This accident, madam, on his own account, gives him no uneasiness; to say the truth, he seems rather vain upon it: I could wish, therefore, when he comes, that you would not seem too deeply affected, but rather assume an air of chearfulness, lest any visible uneasiness in you should shock the colonel. Emily. Poor colonel! I know his sensibility. Let me endeavour, therefore, to convince him, that he is as dear to me as ever! Oh, yes, cost me what it will, I must show him, that the preservation of his life is an entire consolation to me. Enter Servant. Ser. Colonel Tamper, madam. [Disordered. Emily. Oh, colonel ! [Bursts into tears, and leans upon BELL. Tam. How's this? Tears! Bell. You should not have followed the major so soon, colonel; she had scarce recovered the first shock from his intelligence. Tam. My impatience would suffer me to delay no longer-Why do you weep so, Emily? Are you sorry to see me again? Emily. Sorry to see you unfortunate. [Weeping. Tam. Unfortunate! call me rather fortunate; I am come back alive; alive and merry, Emily. Emily. I am glad you have saved your life. [Weeping. Tam. I dare say you are. Look on me, then. What, not one glance! Won't you deign to look on your poor maimed soldier?--[Pausing.]-Is it possible, then, that any little alteration of my person can occasion a change in your senti ments? Emily. Never, colonel, never! it is surely no mark of want of affection to be so much hurt at your misfortunes. incidents and common casualties of his lifemarks of honour-and tokens of valour-I declare I bear them about with me as the most honourable badges of my profession-—I am proud of them- -I would not part with this wooden leg for the best flesh and blood in Christendom. Emily. And can you really be so unconcerned at this accident? Tam. Really; and you shall be unconcerned, too, Emily. You shall find more in me still, than in half the battered rakes and fops about town. It injures me no more than it does a fine tree, to lop my branches. My trunk is heart of oak, and I shall thrive the better for it. Emily. But is there no hope of recovering your eye again? Oh, we must have the best adviceIs the sight quite lost? Tam. Quite; blind as a mill-horse-blind as a beetle, Emily-But what does that signify? Love is blind, you know; and if I have lost one eye, why, they say, I shall see the clearer with the other. Emily. I cannot look at him without shudder[Retires, and sits down. Bell. What action was it you suffered in, co ing. lonel Tam. Before the Moro Castle, madam, before the Moro-hot work, hissing hot, by sea and land, I assure you, madam. Ah, the Moro, the Moro! But if men go to run their heads against stonewalls, they must expect to have a sconce or two broken, before they make their way through them | -Eh, major? Bell. Major Belford was with you? Tam. All the while. The major and I fought side by side, check by jowl, till I fell, madam! We paid the Dons-didn't we, major? But Velasco, poor Velasco! A fine brave Don, must be owned-I had rather have died like Velasco, than have lived to be generalissimo. Bell. [To EMILY.]-How are you, sister? Tam. Nay, prithee, Emily, be comforted! More than all this might have happened to me at home. I might have thrown away my life in a duel, or broke my neck in a fox-chace: a fit of the gout, or an apoplexy, might have maimed me ten times worse for ever; or a palsy, perhaps, have killed one half of me at a single stroke-You must not take on thus—If you do, I shall be extremely uneasy. Emily. Excuse me; I cannot help it—but, be assured, I esteem you as much as ever, sir. Tam. Esteem, and sir! This is cold language; I have not been used to hear you talk in that style, Emily. Emily. I don't know what I say-I am not well-let me retire. Tam. When shall we name the happy day? I shall make shift to dance on that occasion Tam. Misfortunes! No misfortunes at all though as Withrington fought-on my stumps, none at all to a soldier-nothing but the ordinary Emily. Tell me, when shall we be happy? |