king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music and thy English broken; therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English; wilt thou have me?

Kath. Dat is as it sall please de Roi mon père.

K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.

Kath. Den it sall also content me.

K. Hen. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen. Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez.

K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.

Kath. Il n'est pas la coutume de France.

K. Hen. Madam my interpreter, what says she?

Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France

I can not tell vat is baiser en Anglish.

K. Hen. To kiss.

Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que moi.

K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would you say?

Alice. Oui, vraiment.

K. Hen. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I can not be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults; as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding. (Kisses her.) You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate; there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs.

SCENE FROM "THE RIVALS"

BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

Mrs. M. There, Sir Anthony, there stands the deliberate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling.

Lyd. Madam, I thought you once

Mrs. M. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all. Thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, from your memory. Lyd. Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.

Mrs. M. But I say it is, miss! There is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor, dear uncle as if he had never existed, and I thought it my duty to do so; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.

Sir A. Surely, the young woman does not pretend to remember what she is ordered to forget! Ah, this comes of her reading. Lyd. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus?

Mrs. M. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But tell me, will you promise me to do as you are bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing?

Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly that, had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion.

Mrs. M. What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know that, as both always wear off, 'tis safest, in matrimony, to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he'd been a blackamoor, and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made; and, when it pleased heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed! Sir A. He-e-m!

Mrs. M. But, suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley?

Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words.

Mrs. M. Take yourself to your room! You are fit company for nothing but your own ill humors.

Lyd. Willingly, ma'am; I can not change for the worse. [Exit. Mrs. M. There's a little intricate hussy for you!

Sir. A. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am; all that is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library; she had a book in each hand-they were half-bound volumes, with marble covers. From that moment, I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress! Mrs. M. Those are vile places, indeed!

Sir A. Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge! It blossoms through the year! And, depend upon it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the fruit at last.

Mrs. M. Fie, fie, Sir Anthony; you surely speak laconically. (Sir Anthony places a chair for her and another for himself, bows to her respectfully and waits till she is seated.)

Sir A. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation, now, what would you have a woman know?

Mrs. M. Observe me, Sir Anthony-I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning. I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman. For instance-I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or Fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning; nor will it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments; but, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boardingschool, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts; and, as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries; above all, she should be a perfect mistress of orthodoxy-that is, she should not mispronounce and misspell words as our young women of the

present day constantly do. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; and I don't think there is a superstitious article in it.

Sir A. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the point no further with you, tho I must confess that you are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost every third word you say is on side of the question. But to the more important point in debate you say you have no objection to my proposal?

my

Mrs. M. None, I assure you. I am under no positive engagement with Mr. Acres; and as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have better success.

Sir A. Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, tho I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment.

Mrs. M. We have never seen your son, Sir Anthony; but I hope no objection on his side.

Sir A. Objection! Let him object, if he dare! No, no, Mrs. Malaprop; Jack knows that the least demur puts me in a frenzy directly. My process was always very simple. In his younger days 'twas-"Jack, do this." If he demurred, I knocked him down; and if he grumbled at that, I always sent him out of the

room.

Mrs. M. Ay, and the properest way, o' my conscience! Nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. (Both rise.) Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invocations; and I hope you will represent her to the captain as an object not altogether illegible.

Sir A. Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. I must leave you. Good morning, Mrs. Malaprop. (Both bow profoundly; Sir Anthony steps back as if to go out, then returns to say:) And let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to the girl-take my advice, keep a tight hand. Goodmorning, Mrs. Malaprop. If she rejects this proposal, clap her under lock and key. Good-morning, Mrs. Malaprop. And if you were just to let the servants forget to bring her dinner for three or four days, you can't conceive how she'd come about. Goodmorning, Mrs. Malaprop.

SCENES FROM "RIP VAN WINKLE"

AS RECITED BY THE LATE A. P. BURBANK

CHARACTERS: Rip Van Winkle; Derrick Von Beekman, the villain of the play, who endeavors to get Rip drunk in order to have him sign away his property to Von Beekman; Nick Vedder, the village innkeeper.

SCENE I: The village inn. Von Beekman, alone. Enter Rip, laughing like a child himself, and shaking off the children.

Rip (to the children outside). Hey! You let my dog Schneider alone dere; you hear dat, Sock der Jacob, der bist eine fordonner spitspoo-yah-Why, hullo, Derrick! how you was? Did you hear dem liddle fellers just now? Dey most plague me crazy. Ha, ha, ha! I like to laugh my outsides in every time I tink about it. Just now, as we was comin' through the willage— Schneider und me-Schneider's my dog; I don't know whether you know him? Well, dem liddle fellers, dey took Schneider und -ha, ha, ha!-dey-ha, ha!-dey tied a tin-kettle mit Schneider's tail! Ha, ha, ha! My, how he did run den, mit the kettle banging about! My, how scared he was! Well, I didn't hi him comin'. He run betwixt me und my legs und spilt me und all dem children in the mud,-yah, dat's a fact. Ha, ha, ha!

Derrick. Ah, yes, that's all right, Rip, very funny, very funny; but what do you say to a glass of liquor, Rip?

Rip. What do I generally say to a glass? I generally say it's a fine thing when dere's plenty in it-und I say more to what is in it than to the glass.

Derrick. Certainly, certainly. Say, hello there! Nick Vedder, bring out a bottle of your best.

You wouldn't believe it, Derto-day. I guess, maybe, the Ah, Derrick, my score is too

Rip. Dat's right-fill 'em up. rick, dat's the first one I've had reason is, I couldn't got it before. big! Well, here is your good health und your family's, und may dey all live long und prosper! Ah, you may well go "Ah" und smack your chops over dat. You don't give me such schnapps when I come. Where you got dat?