Scene IV-The Road, with a distant View of Sir William Wingrove's House. Enter YOUNG MANLY, singing. Y. Man. Was there ever such a happy, unlucky dog as myself-happy beyond the narrow bounds of mortal imagination in the love of my Julia-but horribly unlucky, that the certainty and near approach of my felicity has quite bereft me of my senses. -Just as I had abandoned myself to despair, to be raised in one delicious half-hour to the summit of-Oh! egad there's no bearing it! I shall run mad-I am mad, that's certain. [Sings and dances. Enter ADMIRAL Cleveland. Admiral. So, so there's young Frolicsome in his whirligigs-What, 'Squire Madcap, are you practising how to make a fool of yourself?-Don't take so much trouble, young man; you can succeed pretty well without so much pains. Y. Man. Ha! my old man of war-give me your hand-When shall you and I go upon a voyage to the Adm. To the moon, eh! young Freshwater? Why, you seem to be in her latitude already; or have you been stowing in a fresh lading of champaign? Y. Man. Your first conjecture is perhaps a little near the mark; for my understanding, I believe, is rather upon the go; but as for champaign-curse champaign. Adm. What then you have been in a tight engagement at play, and have brought the enemy to-Aʼnt that it, my young shark? Y. Man. No, no, my heart of oak; I defy the power of gold to disorder my senses- -But, what do you think, my noble commander, of gaining the woman one loves? Can your old weather-beaten fancy conceive any joy equal to that? Adm. Why, I don't think I can; unless it be seeing an enemy's ship strike; and that does give the senses a whirl that none but a seaman can be a judge of. Y. Man. Why then, as I am a stranger to naval sensations, the pleasure of being beloved by an angel, must serve my turn.-When conquer'd beauty prepares to yield-when willing love strikes the flag-that's the whirl for my money. Adm. Well, that's good-natured, however, to rejoice at the thoughts of an engagement, where you are sure to have the worst on't. Y Man. Dear admiral, had I but known you when I was a boy! Adm. What then? Y. Man. Then? Do you ask me what then? Oh, Julia! My soul hath her consent so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate." Adm. Poor young man !-Well, my lad, when your wits are at anchor, though I fear the vessel's too crazy ever to see port again, you and I may drink a can together-till then, your servant. [Dancing. Y. Man. Nay, nay, don't go yet. Adm. Why, d-n you, you vere about so, one might as well look for anchorage in a whirlpool, as think to hold a parley with you. Y Man. Well, come then, I will be serious-Do you ever pray at sea, admiral? Adm. Why, what should we pray for? Except, indeed, when there's danger in the wind, and then, to be sure, that alters the case. Y. Man. Well, now, there lies your error. Adm. Error!-meaning me.-You? Y. Man. Aye! I hold it such an abominable ignorance of duty. Adm. Ignorance of duty!-why, you palavering whipper-snapper, am I to be taught my duty, after having had the command of a fleet, by such a sneaking son of a whore as you? Y. Mun. Nay, but why so hot, my good friend? You cannot think I meant to offend you? Adm. Not mean to offend, when you tell me I don't know how to command? Ignorance of duty, indeed— Out of my way, you live lumber-D▬▬n you, I only thought you were mad, but now I find you're a fool. [Exit. Y. Man. Ha! ha! ha! ha! At any other time I should have been a good deal vexed to have offended old True Blue, that's certain; but at this moment my heart's so crowded with sensations of mirth and joy— with such a confused jumble of contending raptureswith so much delight at what has already passed, and such a maddening anticipation of what is yet to come, that no thought of apprehensive care can obtain sanctuary in my bosom. My dear Julia, my own Julia! Oh! that idea overpowers me with transport-Gad so, there's Sir William-if I stay here much longer, playing the fool, I shall be observed by some of the family, and then-adieu to all my hopes-What shall I do?— I'll return to the Star Inn, which is just in view of the house, and deceive the tedious interval with my companions whom I left there, till my fair day-star arises, that leads me to new life, to happiness, and love. [Exit. ACT II. Scene I.—A nearer View of Sir William Wingrove's House. (Moon-light.) Enter JULIA. She opens the door gently; and appearance of irresolution, shuts it after her. comes forward. after an She then Julia. So, now my fate's decided!-What have I done?I dare not think upon it-If Manly now deceives me, I am undone-Shall I go back, and consent to be the wife of Lord Dartford ?-that must follow -for but too well I know, that tenderness never yet prevailed upon the stern ambition of my father's nature-But why should I doubt my Henry's unstained honour? Though he is wild, whom did he ever wrong?-Pardon, dear Manly-pardon the unjust suspicion of thy Julia-and see he comes to clear my heart of doubt. [MANLY sings without. Oh, gracious heaven, is this the man I've chosen to be the guardian of my honour!-Fly, fly, my feet-let me but reach my father's-the door is fast; I have now no hope left, unless the wild confusion that wine has made in him, prevent his observing me. Heaven grant it may! [Conceals herself behind a tree, and draws a veil over her face. Enter YOUNG MANLY, singing. Heighten every joy to-day, and never mind to morrow." Aye, so say I.-The present-the present is the only time that's worth a wise man's concern-why should we give ourselves any trouble about to-morrow, when we don't know that to-morrow will ever reach us?-or that we shall reach it, which is pretty nearly the same thing, I take it; and then there is just so much good care thrown away.-'Fore heaven, the man that wrote that song must have been a most profound person— that single line ought to have immortalized him-it shall be my motto. [Sings. Why the plague should we be sad, Whether we're merry, or grave, or mad, We every day grow older." 'Sdeath, the ground's full of rocks and quicksands, I think; my feet either sink or stumble at every stepWhat can be the reason? I that am so steady a goeralways, always was-all my life-Egad, I believe the thickets are going to dance-May be, they mistake me for Orpheus-Nay, gentlemen, if you pay such a compliment to my singing, I can do no less than take a turn with you-I am as frolicsome as you can be for the soul of you—so now, let me choose my partner. [Catches at a tree, behind which JULIA is concealed, who shrieks. By all the silvan powers, another Daphne! [Kneels. Madam, behold a swain, not altogether so musical as Apollo, I grant you, but a good honest fellow for all that-So, madam, so-psha, never mind more wordslet us go. Julia. Oh, my hard fortune! Y. Man. What do you say?-Speak out, my angel!— I know that your voice is more tuneful than Philomel's, or mine that your eyes are the sparkling harbingers of love-that your dimples are the chosen hiding-places of all the cupids-and those lips!-But hold-rot it -I had forgot-I can't see e'er a one of them-Never mind- no matter for that-I dare say it's all true; and if it isn't, why then we must mend the matter with thinking. Julia. Oh heavens! is it possible! Y. Man. No, certainly-it caunot be possible-it |