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'* hour warble a few notes from the bow-window
"nearest the road, by way of signal, and immediately proceed to the lodge gate, where a light open carriage shall be in readiness to conduct
"you to the arms of your adoring Janus Jumble."
Warble a few notes! why I never warbled in all
my life. How unfortunate!
[Stirling hear d without. Stir. Come this way, Clara —I insist on your
Mrs. Honey. Mr. Stirling's voice! My agitation, and this dress, will excite suspicions that —
Enter Stirling, leading Clara.
Stir. Come, come, I'll not trust you any where but under lock and key, so into that room you go.
Mrs. Honey, (aside). I declare 'tis the very room with' the bow-window, mentioned in the paper.
Clara (aside). What will become of me! This, perhaps, may be the very hour my lover appointed for my escape.
Mrs. Honey (aside). A lucky thought! I'll persuade Clara to sing.—My s weet Clara, the time will soon pass: your harp and piano-forte are in that room, and you can practise your favourite song.
Stir. Aye, Clara, do. "The bird in yonder cage confin'd"—aye, aye, a pretty song.
Clara (aside). 'Tis in vain to resist. I'll endeavour to find some air, with words applicable to my situation; and should my dear Janus be near, he will understand it. [Exit into the room.
Mrs. Honey. And pray practise your song, my dear—'twill keep up your spirits.
Stir. Bless me, Cousin, you seem very fond of harmony all of a sudden !—(Aside).—It's a very long while since she was so before.
Enter a Servant.
Sen>. Sir, here's a person down stairs insists on seeing you immediately.
Stir. What? is he arriv'd? I'm glad on't— terribly fatigued with his journey, I suppose— these quiet fellows can't bear much exercise.
Jumble (without). Stand out of the way, you d—d rascal—how dare you keep a gentleman waiting!—(Enters).—Ah, my dear Sir! how do you do? how are you ?—(Exit Servant).—Well, Sir, I received your letter, and set off immediately on the wings of impatience, r
Stir. Then I suppose you lamed one of your pinions by the way, or you would have been here much sooner.
Jumble. Only a slight accident—run over an old woman—that's all.—But, however, every thing's safe, except the shaft of my dog-cart.
Stir. Of your what?
Jumble. My dog-cart—happen'd to crash him in the town here, opposite Jumble's—a demure, solemn plod, hey ?—a great puppy, hey?
Stir. I begin to suspect the puppy must ha' come out of the dog-cart.
Mrs. Honey, (aside). I shall expire with impatience and anxiety.
Jumble. By-the-bye, I left those papers you desired I'd bring for him.—But vvhere's your daughter, my fine fellow ? — (Seeing Mrs. Honeymouth).—Fiends and spectres, my evil genius !— Madam, your most obsequeous—(boiving familiarly).
Stir. A quiet steady fellow, indeed ! —curse me if I ever saw such consummate impudence!
(clara sings in the Room.)
In vain I sigh, in wain I weep;
My prison's high, the walls are steep,
The castle's moat is broad and deep—
I cannot fly to thee, my love.
Stir. Ah! there's Clara practising her song.
Jumble (aside). Confin'd !—I understand— (looking at Mrs. Honeymouth)—Oh, d—n it, so does she, by all that's infernal!
Mrs. Honey, (agitated, and moving off). I! — Oh! I shall be with you again soon, Cousin.
Stir. There's something very odd about my amiable Cousin to-night—I should almost suspect she was going to elope, were it possible any one could be such a fool as to run away with her.
Jumble (aside). O yes, she's , off"—and my friend Cypher, instead of beholding an angel, as I've taught him to expect, will be electrified by a Gorgon.
Stir. But tell me, Mr. Cypher, I hope you read those papers before you gave them to young Jumble?
Jumble. No such thing—look at me—do you think I should be the man I am, if I ever read?
Stir. What! then you attend to business in a different department—write, instead of read, hey? —drive the quill?
Jumble. Me drive the quill! d—n the quill— I drive a gig !—Nobody reads now—study's extinct—sport's .the word—rattle the dice—drive your own carriages—ride your own matches— never write but in registering a bet, and never read but in the Racing Calendar—then you'll be prime ! — bang up! Johnny Raw.
Stir. (aside). Johnny Raw! I'm in a raging fever—marry my Clara, indeed !—I'd sooner she should lead apes, than marry such a fellow as this!
Enter O'daisy, with a Brace of Pistols and Parchments.
0'Daisy. A pretty wildgoose chase I have had of it—Here have I been hunting for that Lawyer, with the marking-irons all ready, and d—n the bit can I find him.
Stir. Why! Rourke, who sent for you?
0"Daisy (seeing Jumble). Ha! ha! have I caught you at last !—(Aside)—To be sure I never saw him before; but I recollect him perfectly well, for all that. Didn't my loving brother-inlaw tell me all about the buttons? And faith, they are neat marks to shoot at enough.
Stir. What the devil are you doing with pistols?
O'Daisy. Your Honcur must know that suspecting Mr. Jumble had a small matter to settle in this way, I thought I might as well do the business myself; therefore, Sir, as I have found you at last, give me leave to—ha! (looking at Jumble).
Jumble. 'Sdeath, I shall be discovered— (turns away).
O'Daisy. O don't be turning away your face— if it's your own you needn't be ashamed of it. Stir. What the devil's all this? Jumble. I must brazen it out.—Well, what's your business with me? you never saw me before, you clod.
0"Daisy (looking at him). Sure it must be— no—yes—I'm bother'd—by the powers, they have mix'd themselves all up together, and d—n the one can I tell from the other of'em, so I must shoot this fellow just to prevent mistakes.
Cypher. Ya! ya! ya hip dash along—this is prime—ah! Jumble we're beat—its all up.
Stir. Jumble—did he say? Why, what the devil—
O" Daisy. Oh! hubbubboo, hubbubboo.
Cypher. Mr. Stirling, Sir, my name is Richard Cypher, Esq. Attorney and Solicitor, and although I am not exactly the man you expected— I'm bang up to the mark, notwithstanding— Prime, one of the first going,—therefore hope to be accepted as a friend, though not a relation.
Stir. A relation, ha! ha! I always said 'twas in vain attempting to deceive me.
Jumble. I hope you'll ge—poor Jerry Blossom a good character, Sir.
Stir. Jerry Blossom!
. Stir. I was going to relent, but now I'll have no pity.
jumble (singing and imitating).—" Pity, Sir, ah, pity pray, a weary Soldier old and wounded." Stir. And the old Soldier too? O'Daisy. Och! you've been finely bamboozled! Mrs. Honey, (without). Where is the wretch? Cypher. Ecod, here she is, (Enter Mrs. Honey.)