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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Adam Stirling

Mr. Penley. Janus Jumble

Mr. De Camp: Dick Cypher.

Mr. Matthews. Jerry Blossom

Mr. Knight. O'Rourke O'Daisy

Mr. Johnstone. Quill

Mr. Fisher. John

Mr. Miller. Servant

Mr. Evans.

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Mrs. Augusta Carolina Honeymouth . Mrs. Sparks.
Clara Stirling

Miss Kelly.
Dolly O'Daisy

Mrs. Bland.
SCENE-A Country Town.

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in the world now-and to prevent the possibility of his

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SCENE I. An Apartment in STIRLING's House.

Enter MRS. HONEYMOUTH and CLARA.
Mrs. H. Well, Clara, I protest I feel quite delighted
at our escape from the smoke of London: this new
purchase of your father's seems to possess every charm
of rural retirement.

Enter STIRLING.
Stir. Ah! Clara, my dear, how dost do? Good day,
cousin.-Well, I suppose you have

had a ramble; how d'ge like the house and grounds, eh?

Clara. Very much indeed, sir; 'Lis really a most elegant little vila.

Stir. Ab, so it ought-it cost an elegant little sum of money. What do you think of it, coz?

Mrs. H. O, delicious! we shall pass our time admirably; and with the new publications we can procure

Stir. Pshawl. Jamble's a puppy-he hasn't a shilling

from Mr. Jumble

ever getting one, be has begun to scribble--commenc'd bookseller, and started a weekly newspaper-they say inost authors come to a morsel of bread; and so may he, if he happens to be lucky,

Mrs. H. He's an excellent young man notwithstanding; by-the-bỳ, I wonder he has not called; he surely ipust have heard of our arrival at the Coltage

Stir. The Cottage! there's a precious pickname for a mansion that has cost me fifteen thousand pounds! The Cottage! a place like a labyrinth, that when I am at one end of it, curse me if I don't lose my way before I can get to the other.

Clara. Certainly the name is not very appropriale.

Stir. Appropriate! why zounds! you may as well call a palace a pig-sty: my old friends in the city will think I am crazy, when they direct to old Adani Stirling, at the Cottage.

Ö'Daisy. (Without] There was a bold dragoon.
Stir. Oh, ihere's that noisy fellow, Rourke O'Daisy.

Enter O’DAISY. O’Daisy. Eh! I beg pardon of your honour's honour, bat there caine just now a great big fellow to the lodge gale, and kept tolling the bell, till there was a greater Hubbabboo than at a wake in Ballinatrolty.

Stir. An express from town, no doubt. I thought there was something a-foot.

O'Daisy. The devil a yard of him was a-foot-he was oulside of a horse. Mrs. H. Something of consequence.

O'Daisy. Your ladyship, may say that thing, and tell no lie peither.

He said it was of very greal weight, and, by the powers, I believe him, or he would not have bad a horse to carry it.

Mrs. H. And what is it?

O'Daisy. A letter it is—he told me to deliver it innmediately into the hands of the right owner; and that's the reason I came myself, because there should be no blunder.

Stir. Al, 'lis for old Adam

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O'Daisy. Is it? by the powers, then, 'tis the first time I erer knew old Adam was a gentlewoman.

Mrs. H. 'Tis for me, I dare saycome give it me.

O'Daisy. Give it you-the nano's Honeymouth--this
must be the honeymouth, for it certainly belongs to the
sweetest lady of the two, and therefore you have no-
thing at all to do with it. [Giving it to Clara) Leave
me alone for the service of the ladies--I'm sure to be
right there, whether l'ın wrong or not.
sweet lips! that's the most gentlemanly young lady. I
have seen since I left Ballinatrolty,

[Exit.
Stir. Augusta Carolina! there's for you-lhere's the
effect of novel reading. Her husband (rest his soul)
bappened to be called Honeymouth, so ibat his name
now attaches to her like a libel. Honeymouth! her
niouth looks a great deal more like the family lemon-
squeezer.

[Aside.
Mrs. H. (Looking at the Letter] From Mr. Jumble,
I protest.
Clara, Indeed! from Mr. Jamble!

Stir. So, now I shall be plagued with lim. Well,
what
says

he?
Mrs. H. You shall hear. (Reads] Allow me, dearest
madam, to congratulate myself on your arrival at the
Cottage. I shall take the earliest opportunity of kissing
your fair hands, and those of my youthful companion,
Clara.

Stir. The devil he will!

Mrs. H. Slay, here's a postscript. [Reads] I have just received from town a new novel, called The Victorious Lover;"" and I hope you will think he has sufficient merit to authorise my introducing him at the Cottage. Delightful!

Stir. Yes, very delightful. I see how 'lwill be--this
is to be the enchanted castle; Clara an imprisoned
damsel; I am to be the cock giant, and you the fiery
dragon

Mrs. H. How!
Stir. D-his impudence! yes, yes! but when he

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and his " Victorious Lover” get footing in this house, he shall be welcome to keep it for his pains.

Mrs. H. I am astonislı'd, cousin Stirling-old Mr. Jumble was your most intimate friend.

Stir. So he was, but that's no reason I should make bis son a present of my daughter. Old Jumble hinted to me, ibat a small estate would fall to his son when he came of age; but when we open'd the will, there was hardly enough to pay for the funeral. But come, I inust have a little private conversation with you about young Cypher. I have ask'd bim down for a day or two. I never saw him, but I hear he's a quiet steady fellow-pone of your novel readershe has ten thousavd pounds in his pocket, and yet sticks to businessthat's the boy for old Adam Stirling. Come along,

[Exeunt Stirling and Mrs. Honeymouth. Clara. Brought up together from our earliest youth, how cruel of iny father thus to separate me from the only man I can ever love as a husband. Love too often withers like a gaudy flower; but when friendship is the soil it springs from, like the conslant ivy, it will thrive for ever.

SONG.-CLARA.
Yes, well I remember how happy the hours
I pass'd with my love in the cool shady bow'rs;
How cheerful, how gaily time filled away,
Pleasure beam’d on each minute-Hope brighten'd each
Ah! little then thinking that, soon overcast, [day:
Our bopes would be wither’d, our joys would be past.
In this life of uncertainty oft it

appears,
Those who smile in the morn, in lhe evening shed tears,
So fate on the sun of my day cast a frown,

Though in smiles it arose, 'r will in sorrow go down:
For my bosom is chill'd by adversity's blast,
And my hopes are all wilher’d, my joys are all past,
But grateful sensations, if friendship can give,
For them, and them only, I still wish to live,

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