Sivut kuvina

two great big tops, and our bed is none of the softest because why, we slape on the ground, and have no bed at all at all.

Str. It is a pity, my honest fellow, that you should ever want one. There—(Giving him a guinea.;-Good by, Mr. O'Callaghan.

O’Cal. I'll drink your honor's health, that I will—and may God and the blessed Virgin bless you and yours, as long as grass grows and water runs.





(A table with decanters and glasses.) Robin. Well, Snacks, this is very good stuff, I don't know as ever I drank any before ; what do you call this, Snacks?

Snacks. Red port wine; an it please your lordship. Rob. Yes, red port wine pleases his lordship.—I wonder where this comes from.-Oh! from the Red Sea, I suppose.

Snacks. No, my lord; there's plenty of spirits there, but not wine, I believe.

Rob. Well, one more thing full ; only one, because you know, now I am a lord, I must not make a beast of myself ;that's not like a nobleman, you know.

Snacks. Your lordship must do as your lordship pleases. Rob. Must I ? then give us t'other sup.

Snacks. I think his lordship is getting rather forward. I'll bring my daughter upon the carpet presently. (Aside.)

(Enter Servant.) Serv. Please you, master Snacks, here's John the carter says he's so lame he can't walk, and he hopes you'll let him have the pony, to-morrow, to ride by the wagon.

Snacks. Can't walk, can't he ?-lame is he?
Serv. Yes, sir.

Snacks. And what does he mean by being lame at this busy time ?-tell him he must walk; it's my will.

Rob. (Aside to Servant.) You, sir, bring me John's whip, will you ?-(Exit Servant.) — That's right, Snacks; the lazy fellow, what business has he to be lame!

Snacks. Oh, please your lordship, it's as much as I can do to keep these fellows in order.


Rob. Oh, they are sad dogs—not walk, indeed! I never heard of such impudence.

Snacks. Oh, shameful, shameful! if I were behind him, I'd make him walk.

(Enter Servant with a whip which he gives to Robin.)
Ro). Come, Snacks, dance me a hornpipe.
Snacks. What ?
Rob. A hornpipe.
Snacks. A hornpipe ! I can't dance, my lord.

Rob. Come, none of your nonsense ; I know you can dance; why, you was made for dancing—there's a leg and foot.-Come, begin!

Snacks. Here's no music,

Rob. Isn't there ? then I'll soon make some.—Look ye, here's my fiddlestick ; how d’ye like it ?—Come, Snacks, you must dance ; it's my will.

Snacks. Indeed I'm not able.

Rob. Not able! Oh, shameful, shameful! Come, come, you must dance; it's my will. (Whips him.)

Snacks. Must I?–Then here goes.—(Hops about.)

Rob. What, do you call that ducing fit for a lord ?' Come, quicker, quicker.-(Whips Snacks round the stage, who roars out.)—There, that will do; now go and order John the carter the pony-will you?

Snacks. What a cunning dog it is !-he's up to me now, but I think I shall be down upon him by and by. (Aside, exit.)

Rob. Ha, ha, ha! how he hopped about and hallooed-but I'll work him a little more yet. (Re-enter Snacks.) Well, Snacks, what d'ye think of your dancing-master ?

Snacks. I hope your lordship won't give me any more lessons at present; for, to say the truth, I don't much like the accompaniment.

Rob. You must have a lesson every day, or you'll forget

the step:

Snacks. No ;-your lordship has taken care that I shan't forget it for some time.

Rob. I can't think where Dolly is; I told her to come to me.
Snacks. My daughter's very beautiful.
Rob. Why, you talk a great deal about your daughter, and
I'll have a peep at her. I wish Dolly would come.

Snacks. Oh, don't think of her.
Rob. Not think of her! why, pray ?
Snacks. Oh, she's too low for your lordship.

Rob. Take care, Snacks, or I shall make you dance another hornpipe. Too low! why, what was I just now? If I thought



riches would make me such a rascal as to use the poor girl ill,

fig for 'em all; I'd give 'em up, and be plain Robin, honest Robin, again.




Cheveril. Grumble no more, guardy! Have done with prognosticating evil. 'Tis all in vain : your gloomy reign is ended : I am of age !

Mordent. To play the fool.
Chev. I'm free! I'm alive! I'm beginning to exist ?

Mor. Like a wretch at the stake, when the flames first reach him!

Chev. The whole world is before me; its pleasures are spread out, and I long to fall on. The golden apples of delight hang inviting me to pluck, eat, and

Mor. Be poisoned.
Chev. Ha, ha, ha!
Mor. As your guardian, I-

, Chev. Hang guardianship! I have been guarded too long. Years out of number have I been fed with lean Latin, crabbed Greek, and an abominable olio of the four faculties : served up with the jargon of Aristotle, the quirks of Thomas Aquinas, and the quibbles and quodlibets of Doctor Duns Scotus

Mor. Take warning

Chev. Fined for Horace ; horsed for Homer; and plucked because I could not parrot over their premises and predicates, majors and minors, antecedents and consequents. My brain was a broker's shop; the little good furniture it contained all hid by lumber. Mor. Let me tell you, young

sirChev. Not now : your day is done. I am my own man! I breathe! I am abroad! I am on the wing to visit the regions of fruition and Paradise ; to banquet with the gods, and sip ambrosia from the lips of Venus and Hebe, the loves, and the graces!

Mor. You are a lunatic!

Chev. No; I am just come to my senses—for I am just come to my estate. High health, high spirits, eight thousand a year, and one-and-twenty.


Mor. Youth! riches ! poor idiot! Health, too! What is man but a walking hospital ? You, boy! you, little as you suspect it, include within yourself a whole pharmacopæia of malady and mischief!

Chev. Zounds! he'll persuade me presently I am Pandora's box!

Mor. So you are.
Chev. Why, guardy, you are mad!

Mor. True, or I should take the shortest way to get rid of misery, and instantly go hang myself.

Chcu. What a picture !
Mor. Equal it in accuracy if you can.

Chev. Why, I am but a young artist; however, I can dash my brush at the canvas as daringly as you have done. So, what think you of mirth, songs, and smiles; youth, beauty, and kisses; friendship, liberty, and love; with a large capacious soul of benevolence, that can soothe the afllicted, succor the poor, heal the sick, instrnet the ignorant, honor the wise, reform the bad, adore the good, and hug genius and virtue to the heart?

Mor. Every feature a lie!

Chev. Excuse me! but I say the likeness is, at least, good as yours : and I am sure the coloring is infinitely more delightful.--But guardy, I want money.

Mor. What, to purchase destruction wholesale ?

Chev. I have five hundred good, wicked, spirited, famous projects on hand. You have seventeen thousand pounds of mine, hard cash: I want it

Mor. Seventeen thousand plagues !
Chev. Every farthing.
Mor. Your money, sir, is locked up in mortgages.

Chev. Locked up? Oh, fun and frolic! I'll unlock it. I'll send honest Grime to ye; he carries a master key.

Mor. Have you no regard to my convenience ?

Chev. I'll pay the premium ; and if you want security, you may have mine. I must have money. The world must hear

I'll be a patron, and a subscriber, and a collector, and an amateur, and a connoisseur, and a dilettante! I'll hunt, I'll race, I'll dice! I'll grub, plant, plan, and improve! I'll buy a stud, fell a forest, build a palace, and pull down a church! (Exit.)

Mor. Mr. Cheveril-He is flown! Why, ay, with spirits equally wild, wanton, and ignorant of evil, I began my career. I have now lived long enough to discover that universal nature is universal agony.

of me.





Colonel Arden was preparing to take a splendid house in London, and had ordered his

servant to look out for a firstrate cook for his new establishment. When Rissolle was introduced, the colonel was pu: led to find out what could be his particular profession. Ile saw a remarkably gentlemanly-looking man, his well-tied neckcloth, his well-trimmed whiskers, his white kid gloves, his glossy hat, his massive gold chain, to which was suspended a repeater, all pronouncing the man of ton; and when the servant announced the ring-tingered gentleman before him as willing to dress a dinner on trial, for the purpose of displaying his skill, he was thunderstruck.

Colonel. Do I mistake? I really beg pardon—it is fiftyeight years since I learned French-am I speaking to a-acook?

Rissolle. Oui, Monsieur, I believe I have de first reputation in de profession; I live four years wiz de marquee de Chester, and Je me flatte dat if I had not turn him off last months, I should have supervise his cuisine at dis moment.

Col. Oh, you have discharged the marquis, sir?

Ris. Oui, mon col-o-nel, I discharge him, because he cast affront upon me, insupportable to an artist of sentiment.

Col. Artist!

Ris. Mon col-o-nel, de marquee had de mauvais gout, one day, when he have large partie to dine, to put salt into de soup, before all de compagnie.

Col. Indeed! and may I ask is that considered a crime, sir, in your code?

Ris. I don't know cod; you mean morue ? dat is salt enough widout.

Col. I don't mean that, sir. I ask, is it a crime for a gentleman to put more salt into his soup?

Ris. Not a crime, mon col-o-nel, mais it would be de ruin of me, as cook, should it be known to de world. So I told his lordship I must leave him, for de butler had said, dat he saw

I his lordship put de salt into de soup, which was proclamation to de univairse, dat I did not know de proper quantite of salt for season my soup.

Col. And you left his lordship for that ?

Ris. Oui, sare, his lordship gave me excellent charactair. I go afterwards to live wiz my lor Trefoil, very respectable man, my lor, of good family, and very honest man, I believe

I but de king, one day, made him his governor in Ireland, and I found I could not live in dat deveel Dublin.

Col. No?

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