face; 'tis a divine employment, and I envy thee thy occupation. A hero! What's a hero without laurels! and they are in a gardener's gift.

Gar. Shall I gather some for you, sir?

[Rises.

Tri. No. I see more honour in that green apron and that pruning-hook, than in all the laurels ever hero won. Here, take these vile habiliments, and give me your's; for, after all, I find, "The post of honour is a private station." Quick, quick! [He puts on the Gardener's jacket, hat, and apron, and gives his to the Gardener.] Go; leave these things to my charge. [Exit Gardener, L.] Methinks I could live in this place for ever. How rich are nature's sweets! A thousand odours, wafted by a zephyr's wing, delight the sense. Here will I make my dwelling.

READY enters behind, and throws a letter in his

view, R. S. E.

(c.) Ay, and should this nymph, of my father's recommendation, prove to my fancy, she shall live with me, and be the Flora of this lovely spot. What's here-a wind-fall? [Taking up the letter.] Which of the trees might this drop from? I must judge by the fruit. [Reads.] "Tristram Fickle-" Humph! I have made a conquest of some hovering sylph; let's see what she has to say for herself. [Reads.] "Have you forgotten the little Savoyard, and all the vows you made to her, so soon? And will you give your love to another? Then kill her with a frown, for you shall see her presently." Amazing! I know not whether I am most astonished or delighted. I had, long ago, given up all hopes of ever seeing her again; but I am once more to be blessed, and have my ears ravished by the sound of that heavenly voice. zounds! my father! Now for a very different tune.

Oh!

Enter OLD FICKLE, R.—Tristram bows to him as he enters. Old F. How! what now! what do you think of yourself?

Tri. I was not thinking of myself at all, just then, sir.

Old F. Is there any hope of your recovering your

senses?

Tri. O, yes, sir; I am very peaceably disposed now. I saw that my military movements did not exactly please

you; so, you see, I have turned my sword into a pruning-
knife.
[Shows his knife.
Old F. Psha! did not you tell me, sir, that you were
determined to stick to the law?

Tri. The law! the law! did I speak of the law?
Old F. Yes, sir; the law, I say.

Tri. It must be a long while ago, for I really don't remember it. What was it I said about the law,

sir?

so?

Old F. Are you mad yourself, or trying to make me

Tri. Neither, sir, I hope; for I am now resolved to learn to cultivate the earth; and am making rapid strides, in acquiring a knowledge of agriculture and gardening. [Goes to the back of stage, L., takes up a garden-pot, with a flower in it, and examines it, then brings it forward, R. C.] Now, this flower is of the bulbous species.

Old F. (R. C.) I shall, most certainly, kill him.
Tri. See, sir, these are the chives.

Old F. Hear me, sir!

Tri. Examine the leaves.

Old F. What do you mean by this?

Tri. You see, sir, 'tis polypetalous.
Old F. I cannot bear it any longer.

Tri. What! not bear botany, sir? The first men in the kingdom delight in the science.

you make me blush to hear you say so.

Not bear botany!

Old F. And you make me blush to think I have suffered myself to be so duped by you, sir; but, from this moment, I have done with you, sir; I give up you and your follies for ever. You have exposed me, sir; made me a laughing-stock to my friend; and—

Tri. If I have made your friend laugh, I have done more than any body else could do.

Old F. No trifling, sir; you will find me very serious, I assure you. I shall bring my friend Briefwit to receive your apology; and, if you don't make a satisfactory one, and give me some assurance that you will lay - your follies aside, I will disinherit you. You will find I am not to be fooled any more. [Exit, R.

Tri. Egad! the old gentleman is perfectly right; yes! he is in the right, I say. [Takes the flower-pot back.] I am resolved to alter my conduct-I will grow sedate. The church-I'll turn parson. The church is

с

[Seeing the letter in his hand.]—a delightful place to be married in. Ah! my dear little Savoyard, how shall I meet you? what shall I say to you? She will be here presently, and I shall be quite at a loss how to address her; I must think of something to say to her, or I shall look quite like a fool.

OLD FICKLE and BRIEFWIT appear at the back of the

scene.

Old F. There he is; how thoughtful and serious he looks now.

Tri. I want words to express myself.

Old F. He wants words; he is thinking of what he shall say to you.

Bri. Good.

Tri. Oh! those eyes of her's will inspire me with wit to address them. [Old Fickle and Briefwit advance, L.] The moment she appears, I will fall on my kness, thus. [Kneeling, c.— Old Fickle and Briefwit advancing on each side of him.] I will say to her-Oh! most heavenly creature! behold your prostrate lover. Let those eyes, which I dare not look on, beam with pity and forgiveness on a youth, who dies, unless, fair maiden, you vouchsafe to take him to your heart, and call him your's for ever. Then will she say, in a tender soul-trembling voice-" Dearest youth, arise." Then I fly into her arms, and embrace her-[Rises suddenly, and catches Briefwit in his arms.] By Jupiter! I have made another mistake. [Turns from him to go off, and runs against his father.] I beg your pardon, sir, I really did not see you! Bri. Insane!-Sed furiosus furore solùm punitur. The second of William and Mary, cap. 1, sect. 12.

Old F. I have done-it's all over-I'll never speak to him again-hitherto you have only seen a foolish father, but henceforth you shall see a just one.

[Exit, R.

Bri. [Drawing himself up.] Young man, this is—
Tri. What, sir? what?

Bri. Contra bonos mores. Not Good!

[Exit, R.

Tri. (c.) Well, my business is certainly done now. Yes, 'tis all over with me-he is determined to abandon me. And have I offended the best of fathers? for a woman, too? I'll never speak to a woman again; they are all made up of mischief and magic. Ah! thou vile

instrument of my disgrace! thus I give thee to the wind. The syrens-they shall never see me again.

Enter VARIELLA, R. U. E.

[Tears the letter.

Var. What do I hear? My letter torn to pieces, too! Have I then lost him?-But I'll try my power.

SONG.

Have you forgot the masquerade,
Where thus I danc'd, and thus I play'd,
And where a thousand times you said,
"I'm your's for ever, lovely maid?"

Tira lira la.

Yes, you've forgot the love you feign'd,—
Those vows were made but to deceive:
The heart by specious arts once gain'd,
Without one kind adieu you leave.

Now quite forgot, &c &c.

Tira lira la. [Exit Variella, R.

Tri. These are no mortal sounds!-No, thou art a divinity, and I must kneel in token of my adoration. [Kneels, c.] If I have offended thee, fair saint, let thy displeasure fix me here for ever, on the cold earth a prostrate statue. Never shall these eyes, which seek the ground, dare raise themselves to view the heaven of thy charms again, unless that voice, attuned to melody more sweet than Philomela's song, sooth my despair, and bid me cherish hope. [A pause.] Nay, speak; am I alive or dead? Pronounce! for on thy lips my sentence dwells. Not one word? [He looks up.] She is gone, and I have been talking to the wind all this while; but, like another Apollo, I will pursue my Daphne till she turn into a laurel, and then I can give her a good trimming for running away from me.

Re-enter VARIELLA, dressed as a Quaker.—Tristram, turning round, sees her.

Ab! who is this?-Pray, young woman, did you see a -Egad, she is very handsome! Did you see a-abeautiful-did you see a-a person?—

Var. (R. C.) Yea, verily, I saw a damsel, friend, clad in gaudy apparel.

Tri. (c.) You say true; very gaudy and fantastical, unlike the modest attire which thy fair form gives grace to.

Var. [Aside.] So! so

Tri. Zounds! what a most delectable creature she is! I was always fond of the Quakers. There is something so neat about them, such a charming modesty.— You did see that person, then?

Var. Yea, the sight of her flaunting attire did offend my eyes.

Tri. "Tis a pity such a pair of eyes should be offended. Poor conceited little ape! Why, you look a thousand times better in that simple dress than she did in all her frippery.

Var. I seek not to look well.

Tri. And therefore thou art a thousand times more lovely. For thy sake, fair maid, I will become a stiff Quaker. Wilt thou introduce me to thy con-ven-ticle?

Var. Yea; and it does rejoice me exceedingly, that the spirit doth move thee towards us.-Hum!

Tri. Hum!

Vur. And wilt thou listen to the good things which are said unto thee? Wilt thou learn therefrom? And wilt thou not sigh for the damsel in the colours of vanity?

Tri. I pray thee think no more of her; forget her, as I do. I neither like her squinting, her squalling, nor her snub nose.

Var. [Aside.] Her snub nose!

Tri. Thou art to her as the rose of the garden is to the poppy of the corn-field. I love thee: yea, I do love thee astonishingly.

Var. Now thou dost talk improperly, and I must bid thee farewell.

Tri. So soon!-When shall I see thee again?
Var. Sooner, perhaps, than thou desirest.

Tri. That is not possible. [Goes to back of stage, L., plucks a rose, and gives it her.] Wear in thy bosom, I beseech thee, this emblem of thyself; and, when it begins to droop and wither, let it remind thee that even so I sicken till I behold thee again.

Var. Before a leaf fades, I will be in thy presence. Farewell Exit, R.