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done with you there neither-pray make haste or you'll get no place. [They all croud off. Hurry. Alone.] Bless my heart, how the whole place goes round with me !-my head seems illuminated as well as that there. [Pointing to the building.] See what it is to have more business than one's brains can bear; I ain as giddy as a goose; yet I have not touched a drop of liquor to day-but two glasses of punch, a pint of hot

negus to warm me, a bottle of cyder to cool me
again, and a dram of cherry-bounce to keep all
quiet-I should like to lie down a little-but
then what would become of the Sham-Peter ?—
no, as I am entrusted with a high office, I scorn
to flinch; I will keep my eyes open, and my head
clear-ay, and my hands too-and I wish all my
countrymen had done the same at the general
election.
[Reels off.

SCENE I. The Saloon.

A Minuet.

ACT V.

After the Minuet, enter a Shepherdess drawing forward a Shepherd by the arm.

DUETTO.

She. Simon, why so lost in wonder,
At these folk of high degree?
If they're finer, we are fonder;
Love is wealth to you and me.
He. Phabe stop, and learn more duty,
We're too lowly here to please:
Oh, how splendour brightens beauty;
Who'd not wish to be like these?

She. Prythee, Simon, cease this gazing,
They're deceitful, as they're fair;
He. But their looks are all so pleasing,
Phabe, how can I forbear?

She. Simon, stop, and learn more duty:
He. Honest freedom can't displease;
He. Riches give new charms to beauty.
She. Riches give no charms to beauty.
He. Who'd not wish to be like these?
She. Who would wish to be like these?

Where'er I come,
Nobody's dumb;
Prating, prancing,
Singing, dancing;

Running o'er with mirth and glee.

From country elections, I gallop'd post haste,
For there, I am always the most busy guest;
And whether it be in the country or town,
I'm hugg'd very close, by the cil and the clown:
The courtier, the patriot, the turn-cout and all,
If I do not sweeten, breed nothing but gall.
I'm here, and there, &c.

The statesman, without me, unhappy would be ;
No lady so chaste, but gallants it with me;
The gravest of faces, who physick the land,
For all their grimaces, shake me by the hand;
At the play-house, a friend to the author, 1 sit,
And clap in the gallery, boxes and pit.
I'm here and there, &c.

[A slow symphony—all the company retire to the
wings on each side; the curtains of the saloon
are drawn up, and discovers the company at
supper.

Enter Druid.

Druid. Folly, away! nor tairt this nuptial feast!

The character of Folly enters from the top of I come a friendly, self-invited guest; the stage to a lively symphony.

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The Druid of these Oaks, long doom'd to dwell
Invisible, till beauty broke the spell;
Beauty, which here erects her throne,
And every spell dissolves, except her own,

Beauty breaks the magic spell,
Her power can every power subdue ;
Can charm the Druid from his cell,
To revel and rejoice with you!

What cannot beauty, spotless beauty do?

Stand all apart, while mortals learn
The recompence their virtues earn;

When thus the gen'rous court their power,
Celestial guardians find the dower,
And these are mansions they prepare,
For the disint'rested and fair.

[He waves his wand.

The Scene opens, and discovers the Palace of Celestial Love.

Maria, take this oaken crown,
The region round is all your own :
See ev'ry Dryad of the groves,
With bending head, salute your loves;
And Naïads, deck'd in constant green,
With homage due, avow their queen;
Here all of autumn, all of spring,
The flower and fruit to you they bring;
And, while they heap the lavish store,
A father's blessing makes it more.

Maria. It does, indeed! my heart overflows with happiness.

Old. Long, long, may it do so! my dear, my matchless, daughter!-Come then, my friends and children; I see our joys are too sincere and spirited to be any longer celebrated in magic and allegory.

Grove. I ask your pardon, friend Oldworth; this reverend old gentleman Druid has charmed me, and I hope we shall have more of his company-A contempt for old times may be fashionable, but I am pleas'd with every thing that brings them to my remembrance-I have an old oak at my heart, and can sit under its shade 'till I dream of Cressy and Agincourt; it is the emblem of British fortitude, and like the heroic spirits of the island, while it overtops, it protects the undergrowth-And now, old son of Misletoe, set that sentiment to music.

Old. And he shall, brother.

[Druid gives signs to the musicians.

SONG.

Two voices.

Grace and strength of Britain's isle,
May'st thou long thy glories keep,
Make her hills with verdure smile,
Bear her triumphs o'er the deep.

CHORUS. Grace and strength, &c.

Dupe. Well, Lady Bab, are your spirits quite exhausted, or have the events of the day made you pensive? I begin to believe there are more rational systems of happiness than ours-should my fair instructress become a convert, my ambition would be still to follow her.

Lady Bab. I am no convert-my mind has ever been on the side of reason, though the torrent in which I have lived has not allowed me time to practise, or even to contemplate it as I ought-but to follow fashion, where we feel shame, is surely the strongest of all hypocrisy, and from this moment I renounce it.

Grove. And you never made a better renounce in your life.

Lady Bab. Lady Grovely accept the friendship of one sincerely desirous to imitate your virtues Mr. Oldworth, you do not know me yet; you forbad your company masks upon their faces, I have worn one upon my character to you and to the world.

Old. Lady Bab wanted but the resolution to appear in her genuine charms, to make her a model to her rank, and to the age.

Dupe. To those charms I owe my conversion -and my heart, hitherto a prodigal, justly fixes with her, from whom it received the first impression of love and reason-There wants but the hand of Lady Bab, to make Oldworth's Oaks distinguished by another union, founded on merit in her sex, and discernment in mine.

Lady Bab. Sir, your proposal does me honour; but it is time enough to talk of hearts and hands -Let us follow the example before us in every thing-after the life we have led, six months probation may be very proper for us both.

Old. Amiable Lady Bab!-Confer the gift when you please; but my Fête Champêtre shall be remember'd as the date of the promise-and now for such a song and dance as will best conclude so happy a day.

[A short flourish of instruments.

VAUDEVILLE.

SHEPHERD.

Ye fine fangled folks, who from cities and courts,
Accept for your welcome innocent sports,
By your presence enliven the fields,
And the fruits that our industry yields,

CHORUS. Ye fine fangled folks, &c.

No Temple we raise to the idol of wealth,
No altar to interest smokes,

To the blessings of love, kind seasons and health,
Is devoted the Feast of the Oaks.

CHORUS. No temple we raise, &c.

SHEPHERDESS.

From the thicket and plain, each favourite haunt,

The villagers hasten away,

Your encouraging smile is the bounty they want, To compensate the toils of the day.

CHORUS. From the thicket, &c.

The milk-maid abandons her pail and her cow,
In the furrow the ploughman unyokes,
From the valley and meadow all press to the
brow,

To assist at the Feast of the Oaks.

CHORUS. The milk-maid, &c.

SHEPHERD.

The precept we teach is contentment and truth,
That our girls may not learn to beguile,
By reason to govern the pleasures of youth,
And decorate age with a smile;

CHORUS. The precept we teach, &c.

No serpent approaches with venomous tooth,
No raven with ominous croaks,
Nor rancorous critic, more fatal than both,
Shall poison the Feast of the Oaks.

CHORUS. No serpent approaches, &c.

SHEPHERDESS.

Bring roses, and myrtles, new circlets to weave,
Ply the flutes in new measures to move,
And lengthen the song to the star of the eve,
The favouring planet of love.

CHORUS. Bring roses and myrtles.

Oh Venus! propitious attend to the lay, Each shepherd the blessing invokes:

May he who is true, like the youth of to-day, Find a prize like the Maid of the Oaks.

CHORUS. Oh Venus ! propitious, &c.

Druid. [Stopping the musicians.] Yet holdthough Druid now no more,

He's
wrong who thinks my spells are o'er,
Oh, may they fall on genial ground!
Thus midst you all I throw them round,
May ev'ry breast their influence prove!
The magic lies in truth of love;
'Tis that irradiates ev'ry scene,
Restores from clouds the blue serene,
And makes, without a regal dome,
A palace of each humble home.

[A grand dance.

N. B. This was reduced to three Acts and performed as an Afterpiece.

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The great Square. At the right corner, in front, GRIPE's house, with a low door on its side to the Square, and over the door a window; some paces backward toward the centre of the Stage, rises a large quadrangular pyramid; at the left corner of the Square, in front, stands HUNKS's house, viewed in profile; in its side facing the audience, are two windows, the lower defended by iron bars, from top to bottom. Other Buildings, as mosques, minarets, dwelling houses, &c. compleat the sides of the Square, to the distant flat scene, which affords a night prospect of the Sea and Harbour, shut out by a stately iron palisade. Near it, on the right hand, a single house projects—having one spa

cious and very large window on the second floor. To the left, in front, near HUNKS's house is a draw well, surrounded by a low wall, whereon are fixed two strong posts, with a cross bar at top, to support a large pulley. Two opposite Streets open into the Square. At their entrance are set up large globe lamps, casting a strong light over the whole Scene.

LIVELY, appearing at HUNKS's upper window, hems and coughs repeatedly, as signals to HARRIET.

Lively. Hem! hem !-She does not hear me, sure, I'll sing then.

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Love though disguis'd by fears all day,
By night unmask'd appears.

Live. [Pleased.] My Harriet !-your uncle's gone, then?

Har, Gone-and yours?

Live. Gone too-Shall we down into the Square.

Jenny. Hist! hist!- -some one comingI protest, Mr. Lively-your uncle Hunkstire, retire, and let him pass.

-re

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And kneel,

And deify it.

O what transport to behold,
What delight to chink my gold.
Mahomet's a scurvy prophet,
His fool's paradise, I scoff it-
Think to gull folks with his Houris!
Beggar wenches without dowries!

Had he feign'd his heaven of pelf,
I'd have been a Turk myself.

LIVELY retires, shutting his window. They keep theirs half shut, watching HUNKS's motions. HUNKS enters slowly from the left side, stops now and then, peeping round. Hunks. A murrain seize the inventor of these tell-tale lamps!--the very bane of all clandestine enterprise !-Why, here, 'tis as light as day now-I'fecks, we might as well have no night at all-Then those damn'd Janizaries-everlastingly patrolling-and prying-Vexation upon vexation! However, 'tis luckily rather latish —and, this—a solitary quarter.- -Who knows? Lively. [Aside, opening his window softly.] I may chance to execute my scheme still-Pest seize him! will he never be gone! [Sees GRIPE at a distance.]-Paah! what interloper now?[Steps aside to observe. Jenny. [At the window seeing GRIPE.]-Soh! -here comes t'other squeeze-fist-Gripe himself-away, Miss, away,

Enter GRIPE pleased, draws forth a large bunch of keys.

Gripe. Such a gull-ha! ha! ha!-Bled so freely-but, no tick-no, no, the rooks would not tick-Pise on it! he has had a devilish tumble;-Well, well---speed the plough-his loss, my gain-Twenty per cent premium, and two per cent by the hour- -no bad Tontine.

AIR.

Let the novice depend on his luck,

On his science the gambler profest;

[Shuts it. Hunks. [Again surveying the Pyramid.] No child's play, to make a breach here—must get help, I'fecks?[Ponders.] Gripe-yes,the very stick -but he-He'll be for going snacks-well, better give half than lose all-Ay, ay-and here he comes just in the nick.

[GRIPE comes forth, locks his door, and pockets the keys.] Safe bindsafe findGripe. [To, himself, while locking the door.] -Forage abroad, but

guard at home-Pise on't-how I loiter

[Hobbling away, HUNKS calls after. Hunks. Gripe!- -Gossip GripeGripe. [Looking back with a nod.] Good night-Can't stay

Hunks. A moment-Lord, man!-what's your hurry?

Gripe. [Coming back.] Hurry!-whySquander, the young factor-fallen in at hazard yonder, with some knowing ones is fleeced

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