I MODERN STANDARD DRAMA. 
 
 R 5097 EDITED BY JOHN W. S. HOWS. 
 
 115 T6 1^ Na LXV, 
 
 848 
 
 opy 1 
 
 115 T6 jK 
 
 848 ^BIk; 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY THOMAS MORTON, ESQ, 
 
 WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CASTS OF pHARACTERS, 
 COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS. ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 M DOUGLAS, 11 SPRUCE ST., Pubushkr, 
 
 AND FOR SALE BY 
 
 BERFORD & CO., 2 ASTOR HOUSE; 
 
 Siriiippf St. Townsend, and H. L«ii^ & Brotliwr, New York ; Red-liiis A-. 
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 dclfilim. Win. Taylor & Co., Baltimore: Amos Head, CliHil<i8i<iii ; 
 J. M. Pierce. Wilnuiigton, N. C. ; .1. B. Riisc.oni, New Orleans ; Rt.- 
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 ^ ' • • ■• > Rnrko, Biittalo; Wm. Adam, Washington, D. G. 
 
 r RICE I2j CENTS 
 
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MODERN STANDARD DRAMA. 
 
 EDITED BY JOHN W. S. HOWS. 
 No. LXX. 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY THOMAS MORTON, ESQ. 
 
 '\ 
 
 WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CASTS OF CHARACTERS 
 COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 DOUGLAS, 11 SPRUCE ST., Pob 
 
 AWD FOR SALE BT ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1848. 
 
^^ 
 
 
 % 
 
 i^V 2 4 1916 
 
 
EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The comedies of Morton were the delight of the last age, and 
 notwithstanding the mutations that have occurred in theatrical 
 taste, his productions continue to be attractive on the stage, 
 when casts of sufficient excellence can be collected, requisite for 
 giving due effect to his creations. The radical change, how- 
 ever, that has taken place in the taste of our modern race of 
 play-goers, has shorn Morton of much of his once universally 
 acknowledged supremacy as a dramatist. The modern critic 
 sees nothing in the productions of the veteran play-wright but ex- 
 travagance of character, and platitudes of false sentimentality. 
 Being ourselves a kind of connecting link between the old and 
 the new school of the drama, we confess to having a lingering par- 
 tiality for the rich and fertile combination of vivid dramatic inter- 
 est, with the strong contrasts of character, which Morton so skilful- 
 ly exhibits in all his productions. Even his most glaring defect, 
 we mean his sentimentality, finds an excuse with us, as being 
 like the defects of Shakspeare, rather the consequence of the 
 age in which he wrote, than the natural discrepancies of the 
 author's own imaginings. 
 
 English comedy in the time o( Morton, was just emerging from 
 the lachrymose style, introduced by Kelly, and followed up by 
 Cumberland and others ; and its first transition was into the 
 more objectionable school of German sentimentality, rendered 
 attractive as it was by deep pathos and romantic incidents. Mor- 
 ton saw the strong leaning of the public taste, and constructed 
 his comedies in accordance with the prevailing tone then given 
 to all dramatic compositions. Hence the overwrought sent:- 
 ment and false views of life, which in our " matter of fact age" 
 excite either ridicule or disgust in modern audiences. There is 
 still, however, character enough in all Morton's comedies, to 
 enable them to keep possession of the stage for years to come. 
 It is true that the eccentricities and the peculiar distinctiveness 
 of English character thi^ author delighted in portraying, are 
 
IV EDITORrAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 fast disappearing, if they are not wholly extinguished. The 
 progressive spirit of the age, is decidedly levelling in its charac- 
 ter : not only does it amalgamate distinctive classes, but it mer- 
 ges idiosyncracies of character into one species of level uni- 
 formity, under the influence of the general intelligence now 
 pervading alt classes of the community ; and thus Morton's 
 characters, which, in a past age, were the embodiments of a 
 class, or the representatives of some well recognised existing 
 eccentricity, find little sympathy from readers or audiences of 
 our utilitarian times. 
 
 Town and Country was among the least successful produc- 
 tions of this prolific dramatist. The admirable acting of John 
 Kemble in the part of Reuben Glenroy, is supposed to have 
 saved the piece. Although we should think that the character 
 of old Cosey in the hands of Fawcett, together with the array 
 of talent combined in the original cast, must have materially 
 aided the effect Kemble produced in his delineation of the hero, 
 however powerful may have been his individual exertions. 
 
 This comedy, apart from the defects we have noticed as being 
 the characteristics of Morton's plays, is a very pleasing produc- 
 tion ; the plot is full of dramatic incident, although it violates 
 probability. Reuben Glenroy, the hero, is a noble fellow, too 
 chivalrous, as the world now goes, but still popular on the stage, 
 where we love to applaud the virtue and generosity we prac- 
 tically contemn in actual life. The dramatic colouring of Reuben 
 is heightened in its effect by the tinge of eccentricity, caught by 
 a life of rural retirement in the seclusion of the wild mountainous 
 country of Wales. Old Cosey, the wealthy old stock-broker, 
 philanthropic, munificent, and, withal, most humourously eccen- 
 tric, could not, now-a-days, find his counterpart on 'Change or 
 in Wall Street, but as an ideal character he is infinitely amusing 
 on the stage, and we believe might have existed in reality some 
 '■"sixty years ago," in the purlieus of the Stock Market. Trot, 
 the cotton-spinner, is another picture of a bye-gone age — cari- 
 catured, no doubt, but forming an admirable contrast to Cosey. 
 Hawbuck is the stereotyped Yorkshire lout, common to the 
 stage ; and the other characters are but common-place. Yet 
 they serve to complete a picture at once agreeable and interest- 
 ing. H. 
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Covcnt (Jardrm. Erondwny, 1618. 
 
 Plastic > JIi"- ^- Kemble. Mr. Dnwson. 
 
 Trot " BlancliaiJ. " Vachc. 
 
 Costy '' Fawcctt. "Blake. 
 
 Rcv.Otoon GUnroy " Murray. " F'rodericks. 
 
 Reuben Glenroy "Kemble. " Vandenhoff. 
 
 Captain Glenroy " Bruntou. " Flemiog. 
 
 First Tradesman, a Tailor " Len. 
 
 Second Tradesman, a S/wemaktr " Wilde. 
 
 Third Tradesman, a Stick- Seller " Sergeant. 
 
 Fourth Tradesman, a MiUiner " Menage. 
 
 Sr^""} ^'-*^"''^-'' { ':^7.t^!- 
 
 Ross " Creswell. " D. C. Andereon. 
 
 Williants " King. 
 
 Evans "Truman. " Gallot. 
 
 First Waiter " Trnby. " Wright. 
 
 Second Waiter " Field. " Watson. 
 
 Stilt " Beverly. 
 
 Robin "Atkins. "Hamilton. 
 
 Hawbuck "Emory. " Hadaway. 
 
 Robert, Servant to Mrs. Glenroy " Jeffries. " Thompson. 
 
 Thomas, Servant to Trot "Piatt. "Wright. 
 
 Postillion " T. Blanchard, 
 
 Hon. 3Jrs. Glenroy Mrs. Glover. Miss Telbin. 
 
 Rosalie Somcrs Miss Brunton. .Mi.'tB F. Wallack. 
 
 Mrs. Trot Mrs. Mattocks. Mrs Scrg^eant. 
 
 Mrs. Moreen '• Davenport. " Winstanley. 
 
 Goody Hawbuck " Emory. "Chapman. 
 
 Taffline Miis Tyrcr. " Boulard. 
 
 Waiting Maid .M it* Cox. 
 
 Tfurse Mrs. Whitmorc. 
 
 yi'Jnffers and Dancers. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 REV. OWEN GLENROY.— Black suit, 
 
 REUBEN GLENROY.-Drdb cloth shooting- jacket, striped waiMcoat, buff breechoe 
 
 CAPTAIN GLENROY.— Scarlet regimentals. 
 
 PLASTIC— Modern suit. 
 
 TKOT .— First dress : — Lig^il blue cloth!=uit, lined wit'i .-^ilk. Second rfrcM ; — Brown 
 coat and breeches, .steel buttons. 
 
 COSEY--Browncoatatid waistcoat, figur'd buttons— black velvet breeches, jack boots, 
 
 ROSS. — Mixture coat and breeches, scarlet v.'aistco.it, speckled stockings. 
 
 WILLIAMS. — Countryman's sm^'t suit. 
 
 ARMSTRONG.— Brown lopellcd coat, buff wais.oat, and breeches. 
 
 DWINOIiE. — Plum-coloured coat, waistcont, and breeches. 
 
 STILT.--Mo<lerii suit. 
 
 ROBIN. — Fustian jucket, striped waistcoat, bu.T breeches. 
 
 HAWBUCK.— Brown livery coat, scarlet waii-tcoat, blue plush breeches — country- 
 man's smart .=uit. 
 
 FOUR TRADESMEN.— Modern clothe-. 
 
 WAITER.— Modern suit. 
 
 ROBERT. — Livery jacket, scarlet waisteont. white breeches. 
 
 THOMAS. — Brown coat, blue plush breeches, fcarlet waistcoat. 
 
 POSTILLION.— Scarlet jacket, buff bmeoh'-B, striped waistcoat. 
 
 MRS. GLENROY.— J'ir.s/ (//-csj -Travelling dress. Second dress:— Fashionable 
 dinner dress. Third dress: — While mu.sliu morninfT-dress. 
 
 MR.S. TllOT — First dress : — Neat wiiile puffed dre.ss. Second dress : — an extra 
 vagaiitly fa.<hiouable satiu dress. 
 
 ROSALIE. — White muslin IVock, iioat straw bimiirt. 
 
 MRS. MOREEN.— ^Brown silk gown, while nmslin apron, neat c.np. Mack niitlcns. 
 
 TAFFLINE.— The simple dress of a Welsh glil— round black hat. blue stockings. 
 
 GOODY HAWBUCK.— A Chintz gown, wliite apron, red cloak, black bound, mif- 
 tens, frhoes and buckles 
 
TOWN AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — ^4 Romantic Country. — Large Cotton Manufac- 
 tory — Canal, with wheels in motion, occupying thix fore- 
 ground — a Gentleman^ s House in the distance — in the 
 back-ground a mountain — porters are carrying bales of 
 cotton, from n. toi,. 
 
 Enter Trot, Armstrong, and Dwindle, from Counting' 
 House, L. 
 
 Trot. Let me see — goods sent by canal — very fine or- 
 der indeed — by waggon, capital — now, Armstrong, when 
 I'm in London, wheie I am going, heaven knows, against 
 my will, I shall rely on your activity and care. 
 
 1st Cleric. Will you 1 you had better not ; I'm sure, 
 when you are gone, I sha'n't be half so careful, nor half 
 so honest. 
 
 Trot. You won't ? 
 
 \st Clerk. No, nor will any of us. 
 
 Trot. That's candid, however. 
 
 Arm. Now you are with us, every morning we hear 
 you say, well done, my worthy fellows, and that does our 
 hearts good ; and then we say, long life to Mr. Trot, our 
 worthy master, and that does your heart good. 
 
 Dwi?i. \ Aside to Trot.] Perhaps, sir, your wife wishes 
 to go to London, and if so — 
 
 Trot. \Aside.] That's it. 
 
 Ar7n. Then why leave us, sir? 
 
 Trot. I hardly know how to make you comprehend. 
 You are not married, Armstrong, are you ] 
 
 Arfti. Oh, no, sir ! [Ju?nping up with vivacity. 
 
 Trot. Well, damn it, you need not jump so. You can 
 stand still, I suppose, though you are not married. You 
 are, Dwindle 1 
 
8 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act i. 
 
 Divin. Oh, yes, sir ! 
 
 Trot. You see how quietly he behaves. [Aside to Dwin.] 
 I say, explain it to him — you know the old excuses — 
 weaker sex — pleasure of pleasing — nei-voua sensibility — 
 nguiet life — smoky chimney — - 
 
 Dwin, Oh, yes, sir, I know — 
 
 Trot, There, go, go — I'll follow you to the counting- 
 house. [Exeunt Clerks, Ij. 
 
 Enter Robin, r., with two parcels. 
 
 What have you there, Robin ? 
 
 Robin. This, sir, contains a gross of gentlemen's cra- 
 vats.' 
 
 Trot. And the small one ? 
 
 Robin. The same number of ladies' dresses, sir. 
 
 Trot. Ha ! ha ! go along — you are a queer fellow, Ro- 
 t)in ! 
 
 Robin. [Looking mit, R.]; Here's a chaise, sir. 
 
 Trot. Oh, 1 suppose somebody coming to pay me a 
 large sum. 
 
 Robin. Four horses. 
 
 Trot. That's more like somebody coming to borrow. 
 "Why, 'tis my son-in-law, Charles Plastic — Run and tell 
 my wife. [Exit Robin, l.] He has come from London, 
 liappy fellow ! but I'm going to it. 
 
 Enter Plastic, r. 
 
 Ah, Charles, I'm glad to see you. 
 
 Plas. Thank you. Well, father-in-law, how are the 
 extensive works, the machinery, and — my mother ? 
 
 Trot. Why, the water-wheels, the spinning jennys, 
 and your mother, twirl abeoit pretty brisk, and make 
 about as much noise as usual. JVnd how is your health, 
 Charles ? 
 
 Plas. Low. 
 
 Trot. Your purse ? 
 
 Plas. Empty. 
 
 Trot. Ah ! all occasioned by neglecting my advice. 
 
 Plas. All occasioned by following it. 
 
 Trot. Come, that must be a glorious falsehood. 
 
 Plas. A most humiliating truth — for proof, now, your 
 first admonition to me was — never tamely to submit to an 
 insult. 
 
Scene I.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 9 
 
 Trot. To be sure. 
 
 Plus. I resented the first I received, and had a bullet 
 lodged in this shoulder, which I am told will plague me all 
 my life. 
 
 Trot. Well, but did you obey my next instruction, ne- 
 ver to let a friend in distress want assistance ? 
 
 Plus. Religiously. 
 
 Trot. Well, and the consequence was — 
 
 Plus. That I went to jail instead of my friends, and 
 had the felicity of leaning my cheek against the iron bars, 
 and see them drive past in their curricles, so full of feel- 
 ing, kind souls, they could not lift up their eyes to behold 
 the man who put the reins in their hands. No, no, your 
 Utopian theory won't assimilate with Bond-street prac- 
 tice ; a man must now wear his understanding, as he does 
 his clothes, according to the last new fashion : so behold 
 Charles Plastic, no longer called a dupe ; but, by the as- 
 sent of the whole town, the best fellow in the world. 
 
 Trot. The best fellow in tlie world ! but how did you 
 contrive to make everybody so delighted with you 1 
 
 Plcis. Simply by making every one delighted with him- 
 self; ingeniously withdrawing my opinion to make room 
 for that of others ; and raising the laugh against myself, 
 and by that means preventing the rest of the world fiom 
 doing so ; and thus the best fellow in the world may cither 
 play the devil with impunity, or liave credit for practising 
 the cardinal virtues, witliout even knowing their names. — 
 But where is my lady mother all this wliile ? oh, she's 
 here. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Trot, from House, l. 
 
 Mrs. T. My dear Charles — well, is all prepared ? — the 
 new London house / 
 
 Plas. Is unique, splendid, and capacious : and at your 
 command ; it's doors, like flood-gates, will open and leceive 
 the full tide of fashion. 
 
 Mrs. T. Chnrming — let us away ! 
 
 Trot. But 1 dcm't know the fashionable folks in Lon- 
 don, except some in the cotton line. 
 
 Plas. My dear sir, don't be uneasy : formerly, indeed, 
 lecruiting for stylish connexions was a tedious, regular 
 service ; but now, (jnly o])en a new house, and you raise 
 friends, as the French did soldiers, en masse, egad ! 
 
10 TOWN AND COUNTRY, ["Act I. 
 
 Trot. Then I think, in the present age of depravity, if 
 my liouse must be a rendezvous for fashionable recruits, it 
 would not be amiss to give notice, that bringers of good 
 men will be handsomely rewarded. 
 
 Mrs. T. How vulgar ! but 1 deserve it, for descending 
 from my family dignity, and marrying one of what I may 
 call the lower house. 
 
 Trot. Why, certainly, my dear, I may be said to belong 
 to the house that furnishes the supplies. 
 
 Mrs. T. That's a very good joke. 
 
 Trot. Yes, and not at your expense. 
 
 Mrs. T. Expense ! did not my family, the ancient fa- 
 mily of the Plastics, in their election contests with Sir Car- 
 digan Somers, absolutely throw into the dirt a hundred 
 thousand pounds? 
 
 Trot. Well, but you know that's all over. 
 
 Mrs. T. And were not you a little plodding creature, 
 happy and contented ] 
 
 Trot. Well, but that's all over. 
 
 Mrs. T. And was not I young — beautiful — 
 
 Trot. Well, but that's all over. 
 
 M7-S. T. What ! but I see how it is — you wish to lace- 
 rate my heart — to break my tender thread of hfe. 
 
 Trot. Don't say so, my dear — [yls^(Zc.] tender thread! 
 damme, 'tis double twilled ! 
 
 Enter Robert, Mrs. Glcnroy's Servant, in a travelling 
 dress, R. 
 
 Roh. The honourable Mrs. Glenroy, on her way to 
 London, begs to pay her compliments. 
 
 Mrs. T. Happy to see her. [Exit Robert, r. 
 
 Plas. [Aside ] Ah, my lovely pupil — the divine Hono- 
 ria ! — related, madam, to our house. 
 
 Mrs. T. True, the daughter of Lord Moulder: impru- 
 dently married, I hear. 
 
 Plas. Oh, no ! I advised her to marry Glenroy — an in- 
 timate friend of mine. 
 
 Mrs. T. Who is he ? 
 
 Plas. Faith, I scarcely know who he is ; but he's a fine 
 fellow, a captain and all that, and she's a fine creature, 
 and ought to be brought amongst us, and all that. 
 
 Mrs. T. She has no fortune — has he money? 
 
<:cr.Nr I.J TOWN AND COUN'TUV. 11 
 
 Plas. 1 should think not a guinea ; but I dare say they 
 will come through pretty woU this winter, which is as long 
 as the most foresighted of us look to — we must start them 
 — then they'll turn into the ranks, and so forth. 
 
 Trot. And then turn into a jail, and so forth. 
 
 \Goes u]} the Stage. 
 
 Plastic exits and re-enters handing in Mrs. Glenroy, r. 
 
 Mrs. G. Well, you good creature, you see I've kept 
 my promise ; but, do you know, I believe I am a very vul- 
 gar woman ? 
 
 Plas. Why, keeping a promise is, I own, symptomatic. 
 
 Mrs. G. No, no, not that; but just now I went into a 
 cottage, and kissed all the handsome, dirty little angels, 
 and gnve the woman a guinea. How she stared ! I hope 
 it was not out of taslc — they seemed so hap})y — heigho ! 
 
 Plas. A tear ! 
 
 Mrs. G. There, I know I am an abominably vulgar 
 wretch — I want to SCO my husband and my child — 
 
 Plas. [Aside] The devil you do ! — Oh, fie, fie ! upon 
 my honour, if tlii.s should get into the parties, you'll be ab- 
 solutely left out. 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, don't say so ! For, though I have not the 
 least pleasure at them, yet to be loft out ! horrible idea ! 
 
 Plas. Dreadful! 
 
 Mrs. G. What a good soul you are to guide me, or hov\^ 
 easily might a young creature like me, be deluded by the 
 charms of nature, and the joys of a happy home ! 
 
 Plas. Very true : I)ut 1 must introduce you, madam — 
 the honourable Mrs. Glenroy. 
 
 Mrs. T. Related to our house. 
 
 M7-S. G. Proud of that honour. 
 
 Plas. Mr. Trot, my fat!icr-in-law. 
 
 T?-of. Occasioned by my marrying his mother. 
 
 Mrs. G. Ha, ha! a very satisfactory explanation. What 
 a beautiful country I have passed. — The view from the 
 mountain absolutely petrified me ! 
 
 Trot. Petrified ! ma'am, I can show you a petrified 
 wig, occasioned — 
 
 Mrs. T. My poor little man has not much fancy. — But 
 may I ask, who is the perscm you have introduced to our 
 family as vour husband? 
 
12 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act I. 
 
 J\Trs. G. A captain in the army, madam : of course a 
 gentleman. 
 
 Mrs. T. But is his family ancient 1 what is his coat 1 
 
 Mrs, G. Scarlet, madam. 
 
 Mrs. T. I mean, what does he quarter ? 
 
 Mrs. G. The enemies of his country, madam. 
 
 Mrs. T. You will not understand. — Has he any sup- 
 porters 1 
 
 Mrs. G. Only these arms, madam. 
 
 Trot. Pretty soul ! 
 
 Mrs. T. Your parents ought to have provided a man of 
 family, 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, they did. 
 
 Mrs. T. Sufficiently ancient 1 
 
 Mrs. G. He was sixty-seven. 
 
 Mrs. T. Settlements made ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, everything was prepared that could make 
 a parent happy, or d daughter miserable. Parchment 
 enough to drape Westminster Hall, where every fracture 
 in the conjugal chain was provided against ; even to the 
 solder of separate maintenance for personal infidelity. — 
 But no ; 1 took the man of my heart, proudly spurning 
 those alliances where all is fairly engrossed but the af- 
 fections, and everything duly stamped except an impres- 
 sion on the heart. But come, Charles, you good creature, 
 show the lions ; for my limbs are cramped by that odious 
 chaise, to a degree — 
 
 Mrs. T. Will you make one in our carrriage to Lon- 
 don ? but as you please ; for my maxim is — that every 
 one should do just as they like, [Angrily.^ Mr. Trot, your 
 old attitude again. — Ease and the spirit of accommodation 
 is everything. Mr. Trot and [ always ride with the glasses 
 down, and face the horses. 
 
 Trot. Occasioned by long habits of driving a whiskey. , 
 But won't you take a corner in our coach 1 
 
 Mrs. G. Why, sir, you surely won't keep a coach ? 
 
 Trot. What must I keep ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Anything but a coach. — Even a barouche is 
 antiquated. Look into Bond street, and you will see two 
 fashionable puppies in a dog-cart — ha — half a dozen ele- 
 gants in a fish-cart, and a dashing whip, smiling as he 
 smokes along, though he has his whole family behind hira 
 
Scr.NK I.] 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 13 
 
 in an eccentric vehicle he calls a hearse — ^ha ! ha ! But 
 come, Charles — good hyt*. 
 
 Mrs. T. What a favourite Charles is ! 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, he's the best creature in the world ! for he 
 lets one laugh at him ; and his good-nutured piattle is like 
 the confectioners' mottoes — full of point, yet always sur- 
 rounded with sugar. [Exit with Plastic, L. 
 
 Trot. [Aside.] Pretty soul ! 
 
 'Enter Robin and Goody Hawbuck, r. 
 
 Robin. Goody Hawbuck wants you, sir. 
 
 Mrs. T. Some other time. Your arm, Mr. Trot. 
 
 Trot. What's the matter ? 
 
 Robin. She says she is in distress? May she speak to 
 you ? ^ 
 
 Trot. You say she is in distress 1 
 
 Robin. Yes, sir. 
 
 Trot. Thi-n why ask unnecessary questions. Come 
 here! \ Beckons to Goody Hawbuck.] what's amiss? 
 
 Goody H. T wish to speak toyour honour about my son 
 Jacky ; but I am ashamed to trouble — 
 
 Trot. Trouble ! nonsense ! come, be quick ! 
 
 Goody II. 1 will, your honour. I sent .Jacky to a York- 
 shire school, to get a learned iddication that he might pi'o- 
 vide for us all : but lack-a-day ! Jacky has brought naught 
 wi' him from Yorkshire, but Latin: and, instead of keep- 
 ing us, we are forced to keep him. So, as he i.s not fit 
 for anything, 1 thought your good honour would take him 
 into your service. 
 
 Trot. A very strong recommendation, certainly. 
 
 Mrs. T. The familiajity of these people is unbearable. 
 
 T)ot. Why, my dear, there is but one way of making 
 these misorables keep at a proper distance from us. 
 
 Mrs. T. And what may that lie ? 
 
 Trot. By making misery keep at a proper distance 
 from them. Go. and bring your boy up to the house. 
 
 Mrs. T. Tliat's right — encourage paupers ! 
 
 Trot. I encourage them I- on the contrary, my dear, I 
 detest them so abominably, that I never see a pauper 
 without endeavouring to prevent his being one ; and did 
 others feel the same sort of hate, who knows but in time 
 the wretches might be eMerininated. \Leads out Mrs. T., 
 beckoning to Goodij Hawbuck, who fulloics. 
 
14 TOWN AND COUNTRY, 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Scene II. — An AjJarfment in Trot's House. 
 Enter Trot, Jbllowed hy Goody Hawbuck, r. 
 
 Trot. Well, well ; where is he ? where is this boy of 
 yours ? 
 
 Goody H. He's here at the door, your honour. — Jacky, 
 my dear babe, come in. 
 
 Enter Hawbuck, r. 
 
 Now speak to the gentleman. 
 
 Haw. Salve domine ! 
 
 Trot. What? 
 
 Haio. iSalve domine ! 
 
 Trot. \At a loss\ Oh, very likely. What does he say ? 
 
 Goody H. That's Latin. 
 
 Haw. Yes ; as much as to say, how is't tha, mun ? 
 
 Trot. How is't tha, mun — why, zounds ! his English is 
 as unintelligible as his Latin. 
 
 Goody H. Oh, poor babe ! I'm sure your honour will 
 employ him ; for you see how helpless he is. 
 
 Trot. What the devil shall I do with him ? Oh ! now I 
 recollect — in London I must keep a number of useless 
 servants, and he seems remarkably well qualified for being 
 one. 
 
 Haw. I should not wonder if I was the best in the whole 
 bunch. 
 
 Trot. Well, you may leave him. 
 
 Goody H. Heaven bless and preserve you ! 
 
 Trot. Go, go, you are a geneious old soul. 
 
 Goody H. I generous ! Heaven help me, your honour 
 means grateful. 
 
 Trot. True, true ; but the mistake is not very material ; 
 for those who feel the spirit of gratitude in receiving a 
 kindness, only want an opportunity to display the spirit 
 of generosity in bestowing one. \Exit Gooly H, R. 
 
 Enter Plastic, l. 
 
 Tlas. Scoundrel ! 
 
 Trot What's the matter, Charles ? 
 
 Vlas. I've just discharged an impertinent sei'vant. 
 
 Trot. A stupid dog, I dare say. 
 
 Tlas. No, no, a shrewd, clever, capable rascal — prying 
 
Scene 1 1.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 15 
 
 into my affairs — knowing more of me than I clo of myself. 
 — Oh, for a fine thick-headed dog ! 
 
 Trot. I think I can snit you — I say, look there. 
 
 [Pointing to Hawhuck. 
 
 Plus. There is some promise in his face, I own. 
 
 Trot. [To Haivhuck.^ Try him. Come hither — I want 
 you. 
 
 Haw. Want me already, do you ? ecod, this will be no 
 such easy place, I see. 
 
 Trot. This gentleman wishes to hire you. 
 
 Haw. Does he 1 who is he ? 
 
 Trot. He's a man of fashion, and a wit. 
 
 Haw. A what — a wit? [Snapping his Jingers.] That's 
 just what I wanted to see. Never saw a wit in all my 
 days. 
 
 Trot. No? 
 
 Haw. No. — Why, you be'n't one? 
 
 Trot. Not absolutely ; occasionally smart, very smart 
 indeed ; but not — 
 
 Haw. No, I thought you did not look like it. 
 
 Trot. Ha ! ha ! my dear Charles, I think I may ven- 
 ture to recommend him as the most stupid dog in Europe, 
 without the least risk of incurring tlie penalty of the sta- 
 tute for giving a false character. [Exit, r. 
 
 Haw. A wit ! I declaie, 'tis quite awful ! I wonder what 
 clever thing he'll say first. 
 
 [Puts liimself in an affected attitude. 
 
 PI as. Who are you ? 
 
 Haw. [Apart.\ That's damned keen — however, I'll 
 pluck up. — Why, I be Jacky Hawbuck. 
 
 Plas. Oh! 
 
 Haw. [Asidc.^ Oh, capital — that has quite knocked me 
 up. Oh! 
 
 Plas. Where do you come from ? 
 
 I^iw. Don't you flurry me, that's not fair. [Pertly.\ 
 Why, I come fra' Yoi'kshire. 
 
 Plas. What were you doing there ? 
 
 Haw. 1 were at school. 
 
 Plas. Ay, and what did you learn ? 
 
 Haiv. Latin. 
 
 Plas. What? 
 
 Haw. Latin. 
 
16 TOWN AND COUNTRY. fAcT I 
 
 Plus. Latin — ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Haw. Yes, Latin ! he ! he ! he ! i say, devilish smart 
 on both sides, I think — he ! he ! 
 
 Plas. Oh, very ! 
 
 Hu7o. Then gi' us thy hand on't — par nobile fratrum, as 
 we scholards say. Damn it, I shall do ! 
 
 Plas. Ha ! ha ! but what wages do you expect ? 
 
 Ilaio. Why, I've had a most capital iddication. Cost 
 mother poaks-full of money. Wad do you think it ? ele- 
 ven pounds a year ! 
 
 Plus. Inciedible ! 
 
 Half. Ay, but stop a bit ; that were for Latin and lo- 
 gic, and leather breeches — all in a lump, you undei-stand. 
 
 Plas. Suppose, then, I double the sum it costs your mo- 
 ther for Latin and logic 1 
 
 Haw. Sufficient. But — [Holding out. his hand. 
 
 Plas. What do you mean by that 1 
 
 Haw. Why, mother paid som'it for entrance, like, 
 
 Plas. Well, there's a guinea. Now, don't be always 
 dangling after me — 
 
 Haw. I'll never come near you. 
 
 Plas. Nor listen to overhear my conversation. 
 
 Haw. I'll never mind a woixl you say. 
 
 Plas. Your name is John ] 
 
 Haw. Mother always called me Jacky. I think Jacky's 
 prettier, and more brotherly and suitable between us, like. 
 
 Plas. Ha ! ha ! well, then, Jacky, your servant ! 
 
 [Exit, L. 
 
 Haw. Why, now, that's very civil ; for I thought I was 
 to be his servant ; but, however, if he likes t'other way 
 best, I've no of)iections. [Door-bell rings, r. 
 
 Cosey, [ Without.] Hey, within there ! nobody at home ! 
 hollo ! 
 
 Hno. Pratty set of servants in this house. Nothing 
 to do, and yet let a gentleman stand at the door in that 
 manner — oh, 'tis too bad, a great deal. [Exit, l. 
 
 Enter CosEY and Postillion, r. 
 
 Cosei/. Why, zounds, the house is as empty as the Bank 
 on a holiday. There's your commission, and be at the 
 door again in two hours. Mind, you've to transfer into the 
 next county. Won't coach it in the dark — no lamps here ? 
 
Scene II.] TOWN AND COtNTRY. 17 
 
 [Exit Postillion, r.] Why, where is the 6ld boy ? I must 
 give him one of our Change-Alley calls — Peter Trot, Pe- 
 ter Trot ! 
 
 Enter Trot, l. 
 
 Trot. Heyday ! who is making this uproar ? 
 
 Coseij. What, have you forgot Kit Cosey 1 how are you ? 
 Trot. Why, is it possible? My old friend Cosey, two 
 hundred miles from London ? 
 
 Cosey. Business, my dear fellow ; or you don't suppose 
 I could have done such a damned silly thing. 
 
 Trot. I thought the travels of the lamplighter always 
 terminated yours. 
 
 Cosey. Why, I have no objection to short countiy ex- 
 cursions, there's such a pleasure in thinking they'll soon 
 be ovei\ Often take a trip to Muddy Paradise, the seat 
 of Alderman Greasy. Lonesome, but very rural; stands 
 all alone by itself, in the fields behind Islington. 
 
 Trot. Well, but I hope you enjoyed this journey 1 
 
 Cosey, Amazingly — slept all the way- 
 
 Trot. A very wonderful country that I live in. 
 
 Cosey. Very Avonderful that you live in it, indeed. 
 Lord, lord! to compare this place to Lunnun, Here your 
 great sprawling, lolloping clown, rolls about like a lump 
 of lead ; there your dapper, agi-eeable, compact cockney, 
 skips about like a bit of quicksilver. Only see them at a 
 city hop — capering and bumping their heads against the 
 ceilin", as jollily as e'er a shepherd that ever played upon 
 a fiddle. But I say, old boy — you seem cruelly altered ; 
 when I saw you last, you were as brisk as bank stock ; — 
 but you now seem cut down to short annuity. — What's 
 the matter? 
 
 Trot. I'm grown rich. 
 
 Cosey. Why, I'm warmish; but yet, I am only what I 
 call comfortable. 
 
 Trot. Ah, but I am so rich, that I must leave my dear 
 spinning Jennys, and be happy in London. 
 
 Cosey That's the place — give you joy, old Trot. 
 
 Trot. Then — I'm marned. 
 
 Cosey. Oh — beg pardon — forgot that. Well, I long to 
 see your choice — when you opened that joint account, 
 vou wrote in rat)turcs about her. 
 
18 TOWN AND COUNTRY. CAcT I. 
 
 Trot. Did I ? you have a most excellent memory ; for 
 that must have been a long time ago. 
 
 Cosey. Oh, Cupid's at a discount. 
 
 Trot. Why, the keenest edge will wear a little blunt 
 I don't think she is quite so handsome — 
 
 Cosey. You praised her blushes. 
 
 Trot. But now they are apt to come in the wrong place. 
 
 Cosey. Alabaster complexion. 
 
 Trot. Yes, but like my inferior muslins — washing makes 
 it change colour — mum ! [Seeing Mrs. Trot. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Trot, Mrs. Glenroy, and Plastic, l. 
 
 My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Cosey, from London, 
 
 J[frs. T. Come to enjoy the pure air of the country ? 
 
 Cosey. Yes, ma'am, very pure ; but I don't think it has 
 much taste with it. 
 
 Mrs. T. Taste ! 
 
 Cosey. Why, you know, ma'am, the Lunnun air has 
 a kind of a sootish sort of a smack, that I think gives it 
 a flavour — I like it — don't you, miss ? 
 
 Trot. Miss ! — no such person — occasioned by her mar 
 rying Captain Glenroy. 
 
 Cosey. What, the son of Owen Glenroy, the Welch 
 parson 1 
 
 Mrs. G. The same, sir. 
 
 Cosey. Then, ma'am, you and I are what I call cousins. 
 Going to Wales to see your father-in-law — take any little 
 parcel. 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, I think I recollect — you are somebody in 
 the city. 
 
 Cosey. Why, yes, in the city I flatter myself I am some- 
 body, and insignificant as I may appear here, I can tell 
 you, that when I quitted the Bank yesterday morning, I 
 did not leave a greater hear in it than myself — [^5«<^e.] 
 'Tis as well to let them know who they've got amongst 
 them. — You must know my reason for going into Wales is, 
 that I have bought the estate which formerly belonged to 
 Sir Cardigan Somers. 
 
 Plas. trot. cV Mrs. T. You ! 
 
 Cosey. Oh, I've got into an enemy's country here. Yes, 
 I— 
 
 Mrs. T. But why ? 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 19 
 
 Casey. A whim ! 
 
 Trot. Why, I was told it sold for five thousand more 
 than its value. 
 
 Cosey. A whim ! 
 
 Tlas. Oh, what's a handful of thousands to a purse- 
 proud citizen ? 
 
 Cosey. Umph ! — |Ay/Je.] Now that puppy Plastic owes 
 me five hundred pounds. — Sir, as you are pleased to put 
 me in mind how city pride is pampered by the thousands 
 we gain ; pray, be just enough to remember, that charity 
 is fed by the thousands we give. 
 
 Trot. The castle commands a delightful prospect. 
 
 Cosey. A good look-out, is there ? 
 
 Plas. Yes : will you part with it ? 
 
 Cosey. No ; I mean to keep a good look-out. 
 
 Mrs. T. Do you intend to reside there? 
 
 Cosey. Lord forbid ! 
 
 PLas. [ To Mrs. G.] Leave him to me. [Mr. and Mrs. 
 Trot and JSIrs. Glcnroy retire together.] Pray, sir, had not 
 iSir Cardigan Somers a daughter? 
 
 Cosey. You know he had. 
 
 Plas. Tnie ; I believe she was once pointed out to me. 
 
 Cosey. Possibly. 
 
 Plas. I thought her beautiful, and spite of the family 
 antipathy, wished to be introduced to her. 
 
 Cosey. Indeed ! 
 
 Plas. But she suddenly disappeared without my ever 
 having had that pleasure. Do you know what has become 
 of her ? 
 
 Cosey. Do you ? 
 
 Plas. No. [Aside.] But I will, if I can. — You are going 
 to Wales 1 
 
 Cosey. Yes. 
 
 Plas. So am L 
 
 Cosey. Oh ! 
 
 Plas. Suppose we post it together ? 
 
 Cosey. No bargain — 
 
 Plas. Do you mean — 
 
 Cosey. Accounts closed — words useless — balance not in 
 your favour. 
 
 Plas. [Aside.] Indeed ! but FU be after you, my old 
 boy! 
 
20 TOWN AND COUNTRYi [Act II, 
 
 Mrs. G. Any news in town, sir, yesterday? 
 
 Cose?/. Yes, ma'am : fifteen Levant arrivals, two foreign 
 mails due — things a shade better — gold in bars, hea,vy; — 
 hops flat; — raw hides lively ; and cochineal as per last. 
 
 Mrs. G. Ha! ha! thank you, sir; but I mean news 
 from the squares. 
 
 Cosey. Know nothing about them — pity the cits who 
 live at the West End — and yet, I declare, 'tis funny to see 
 them duck through Temple-bar, like geese through a gate : 
 and then wriggle, and stretch out their necks, when they 
 come to the west side — this lady of fashion kiss her hand, 
 as much as to say, ' I'll come and bring all my friends to 
 live upon you' — that lordling bows — set that down at 
 twelve dozen of champaigne — an earl cries, 'Ah, Dick, 
 ^y j*^^ly ^o©' your hand !' — he means — to a note for five 
 thousand. So, there you may see the cits stuck up in the 
 fine gala-rooms, like calves in a pen : where they are bled 
 till they are quite delicate and tender ; then struck on the 
 head with a docket, and consigned to that fruitful morta- 
 lity bill, the London Gazette, where, (not to drop the simi- 
 le,) like calves, they generally cut up for about tenpence in 
 the pound \^Exeunt, l. 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 / 
 
 Scene I. — A Welsh Village. 
 Enter Ross, Williams, and Tafpline, l. s. e 
 
 Taff. Dear father! 
 
 Will. You promised me, if I was industrious, you 
 would give me my sweet Taffline. We should be the 
 happiest couple in Wales. 
 
 Ross. You are too young, and too poor. 
 
 Taff. Poor! la, father! has not Williams saved al- 
 most three guineas ? 
 
 Russ. And what dower can you bring, my Welch heir- 
 ess 1 
 
 Tuff. Cheerful industry, and a constant heart. 
 
 Will. 'Tis hard to I'efuse us, when all the neighbours 
 were to make a holiday on purpose. 
 
Scene I.J 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 21 
 
 Taff". And your favourite, dear, good Miss Rosalie So- 
 mers, liad given us a wedding dinner. 
 
 Ross. Indeed ! I should be loth to ofFenid so sweet, so 
 handsome, and so kind a young lady as Miss Somers is — 
 hut — 
 
 Tuff. Oh ! here she comes. 
 
 Enter Rosalie and Mrs. Moreen, r, 
 
 Rosa. Well, my sweet Taffline, is all arranged for tiio 
 weddiijg ? 
 
 Trff. No, Miss: father won't consent. 
 
 Rosa. Come, good Ross, don't be churlish. 
 
 Ross. Indeed, Miss, the times are — - 
 
 Mrs. M. Prettily changed with you. Ah ! but for her 
 father's misfortunes, she might have commanded, and you 
 would have been glad to have obeyed ; but now — 
 
 Ross. Mrs. Moreen, I won't bear that. I respect the 
 daughter of Sir Cardigan Somers as much as if she were 
 still the heiress to this noble estate. And when it was sold 
 1 doubt if Miss felt more than Robin Ross did. 
 
 Rosa. Well, well, you won't refuse Reuben GJlenroy. 
 
 Ross. Refuse Reuben ! not if he were to ask mo for 
 my heart's blood. I owe him — 
 
 Rosa. Not much ; for Reuben is not rich. 
 
 Ross. Everything, Miss ! I was always behind hand 
 with the world-^ — borrowed of one to pay another — never 
 could hold up my head as an honest man ought, till he 
 pointed out to me the road to independet)ce : and now, 
 though my pocket cannot boast many guineas of my own, 
 thank heaven, it does not contain one that belongs to ano- 
 ther. Ail, Reuben is a man ! 
 
 3Irs. jSI. Not a very civil one — he's snappish and glum 
 — give me a man that's merry — likes a good stoiy, and 
 says good things. 
 
 Rosa. While Reuben is content with doing them. 
 
 Ross. Here he comes down the mountain. 
 
 [Revhcn opfears descending the viountain, and looking 
 at the heavens. 
 
 Enter Reuben, l. 
 
 Rcuh. Ross, come hither. Have you observed the sky ? 
 — lork at that cloud. 
 
22 TOWN AND COUNTRY. ["Act H 
 
 Roxs. Bless me, an evil messenger, in Jeer! ! very stormy 
 — how does the mountain look ? 
 
 Rajh. Tiie sun gilds its summit ; but chilling vapours 
 cling round its rugged sides. 
 
 Ross. It will be a foul night ? 
 
 Rcuh. The air is dull heavy. 
 
 Ross. A storm of snow, then. 
 
 Reuh. I thought so. Williams, a storm threatens, and 
 the passes over the mountains are full of danger to the 
 benighted traveller. Pray keep careful watch to-night — 
 I shall not sleep. Ross, I haA-e obtained you a renewal 
 of your lease from your landlord. 
 
 Ross. ?Iow can I thank you ? what shall I say 1 
 
 Reuh. Nothing; let your conduct thank me; but we 
 must wait on him instantly — so, come — ah, Rosalie ! [Runs 
 to hcr.^ in my excursion I met the messenger carrying let- 
 ters to my fathei's — this I took charge of [Gives a letter. 
 
 Rosa. [Reading.^ ' Have hrougJit a little present to 
 Wales for you' — 
 
 Mrs. M. A present ! what can that be, I wonder. 
 
 Rosa. [Reading.] ' Mean to stay with you the total of one 
 entire day ; so get ready a hasin of broth, a hiss, and 
 everything what I call comfortahle, for Christopher Cosey.* 
 [To Reuh.] 'Tis from my guardian. Come, 1 suppose, to 
 resign his charge, as to-morrow I am of age. 
 
 Ross. Of age ! [ They appear dejected. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, what a day to-morrow would have been, 
 if- 
 
 Rcuh. Come, come, it will be a happy one — and though 
 the great world may not know of our festivity, yet, re- 
 member, the place which gives us birth, is the world of 
 the heart — and what heart is there in it, that will not share 
 our joy ? Rosalie, return home ; the heavens look tem- 
 pestuous — Williams shall attend you ; for I have business 
 across the mountain. 
 
 Rosa. I know — the business of humanity. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalie, Mrs. Moreen, Tajfline, and Wil- 
 Hams, R. 
 
 Reuh. Sv/eet excellence ! — Ross! 
 
 Ross. I wait for you, sir. 
 
 Reuh. I see her still-^— ah — she falls — no, no : she waves 
 hei- hand. [He ascends part of the 7noimtain.\ Still T be- 
 
Scene II.] TOWN AND COUNTRY". 23 
 
 hold her. Oh, lovely, lovely Rosalie ! — Come, Ross, come ! 
 
 [Exeunt, L. s. E. 
 
 Scene II. — A Parlor in a Wchh Parso7iagc House. 
 Enter the Rev. Owen Glenroy and Cosey, l. 
 
 Owen. A thousand welcomes to Wales, Cousin Cosey ! 
 
 Coseij. Thank you, Mr. Glenroy, thank you, my reve- 
 rend friend. Well, how goes on your little parish — every 
 thing what I call comfortable, eh ? 
 
 Owen. Why, cousin, I have many reasons for being 
 proud of my small flock ; and I humbly hope they have 
 some for being content with their pastor. 
 
 Cosey. I don't doubt it. 
 
 Owen. Well — -and how does my son the captain go on ? 
 — a fine fashionable fellow, isn't he % 
 
 Cosey. Oh, very ! 
 
 Owen. Married to a lord's daughter — think of that — 
 he'll be a great man. 
 
 Cosey. [Aside.] Hopes above par, old boy, but I'll not 
 lower the market on you. — But where's Rosalie Somers? 
 is she not here to receive her guardian ? have not seen 
 her since consols were 84 — all ! is not this she ? 
 
 Enter Rosalie and Mrs. Moreen, r. 
 
 Rosa. My dear guardian ! 
 
 Cosey. Let me see — let me taste — [Kisses her.] There's 
 a skin, polished and smooth as anew bank note — here are 
 roses — 
 
 Hosa. The effects of exercise ; and, perhaps, the glow 
 somewhat heightened by the pleasure of beholding the 
 friend of my poor father. 
 
 Cosey. Thank you, thank you — kind as an accommoda- 
 tion bill, I declare. Eut have been at romps, eh 1 
 
 [Observing her hair disordered. 
 
 Rosa. The effects of the brisk air of the mountain, 
 which is delightful — 
 
 Cosey. Very — if you happen to be going the same way, 
 else you may as well attempt London Bridge against tide, 
 as face it. Ah, Mrs. Moreen, have you forgot your old 
 sweetheart. Kit Cosey ? (she refused me !) but don't look 
 grave, for I assure you I have been remarkably happy 
 
24 TOWN AND COUNTRY. |-Act II, 
 
 ever since. [Looking at her. — Asid.ei\ "What an escape I 
 had ! — But now you talk of escapes, only think — the horses 
 that were to have brought me here, not fancying your 
 frightful — no, sublime hills, turned their heads towards 
 Lunnun — sensible creatures ! — could not help laughing — 
 when all of a sudden, away they went, full gallop, and had 
 almost got to the edge of a precipice, when a fine strap- 
 ping fellow rushed down the mountain, seized the reins, 
 and when I would not have given a lottery blank for my 
 life, turned the account in my favour. 
 
 Owen. But who was he ? 
 
 Cosey. That's what I want to know ; for I shook so 
 much, from cold, I imagine, I could not immediately get 
 my hand into my pocket to reward him; and when I did, 
 egad, he had skipped half up the mountain again. 
 
 Mrs. M. But have you not got a present for my young 
 lady ? 
 
 Casey. Yes ; and for you, too ; but all in good time. 
 First, see my portmanteau safe to my room — and Rosalie 
 — lavender sheets — aired — snow — snug supper — eveiy- 
 thing what I call comfortable — eh ? 
 
 Rosa. I'll take care. [Exeunt Rosa, and Mrs. M., r. 
 
 Cosey. Bless you ! and to-morrow, we'll be as happy as 
 'tis possible to be — in the country. But what sort of a 
 chap is this eldest son of yours — rough Reuben, as you 
 used to call him. 
 
 Owen. He's difficult to describe. 
 
 Cosey. Is he clever? 
 
 Owen. Very. 
 
 Cosey. Not headstrong? 
 
 Owen. Very. 
 
 Cosey. Diligent] 
 
 Owen. Very. 
 
 Cosey. Saucy ? • _ 
 
 Owen. Very. 
 
 Cosey. What does he delight in? 
 
 Owen. Rosalie. 
 
 Cosey. But zounds ! that won't do. 
 
 Owen. Do you think I encourage him? 
 
 Cosey. I hope not. Consider, the daughter of Sir Car- 
 digan Somer.) ! 
 
 Owen. Of the first family, and once the richest heires:? 
 in the country. 
 
Scene II.J 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 25 
 
 Cosey. And may be again. 
 Owen. What? 
 Cosey. Nothing. 
 
 Reuben. \ Without, l.] There, then, refresh yourselves ; 
 I'll soon be with you. 
 
 Enter Reuben, l. 
 
 Owen. Here is my son. Reuben, pay your respects to 
 our worthy cousin, Rosalie's guardian. 
 
 Reub. Is she not beautiful 1 
 
 Cosey. I'm pretty well, I thank — eh ! 
 
 Rosa. [ Without, L.] That will do, Mrs. Moreen ! 
 
 [Exit Reuben, r. 
 
 Cosey. The very man that saved my life ! 
 
 Owen, Indeed ! 
 
 Cosey. He can't escape me now, however; so give me 
 your hand — why, confound the fellow, he's off again. 
 
 Owen. Why, Reuben, Reuben, I say ! \Retires. 
 
 Reuben. [ Without, r.] Here, father, here ! — Come, Ro- 
 salie ! 
 
 Re-enter Reuben, r. 
 
 Cosey. Zounds, sir ! you might have had the patience 
 to let me thank you for saving my life ! 
 
 Reub. Ay ; but we hasty mountaineers, to prevent dis- 
 appointment and delay, always take care to receive our 
 reward, while doing an act of humanity. 
 
 Cosey. You're a noble, generous lellow ! 
 
 Reub. Psha ! how can you know? 
 
 Cosey. Because I know you are a brave fellow ; and 
 true courage, as I take it, is of too sociable a nature, ever 
 to take lodging in that breast which has not plenty of other 
 good company there. 
 
 Reub. Well, enough of this — 'twould please you, sir, to 
 see my father look so well. You are from London, sir — 
 how goes on my brother ? 
 
 Cosey. So, so. 
 
 Reub. I fear him much. 
 
 Cosey. [Aside.] So do I ! — But tell me, how came this 
 brother to be the favourite child ? 
 
 Reub. [Sarcastically.] Oh, weighty reasons govern pa- 
 rents' prejudices ! My hair was rough and stubborn ; my 
 brother's ductile ringlets obeyed the mother's anxious 
 
26 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act H. 
 
 hand ; — mine resisted — slie tugged, and T squalled ; — then 
 a woman of rank in the neighbourhoood took it into her 
 head to be my brother's godmother, and named, or rather 
 nicknamed him Augustus ; which at once made him the su- 
 perior boy, — that is, poor fellow, he was compelled to hold 
 up his head, — lose the luxury of exercise, for fear of tak- 
 ing cold ; and be pinioned in a chair, and crammed with 
 nauseous dainties to a surfeit, whenever his illustrious gos- 
 sip condescended to take tea with my mother, at the par- 
 sonage. Ah, poor mother ! 
 
 Owen. Yet Reuben was of use to her ; for when disease 
 deprived her of motion, his agile limbs bore her to the 
 mountain's brow, where the pure breath of nature cheei-- 
 ed her drooping heart : — and when her life was despaired 
 of, good, vain woman, — she said that Augustus's mourning 
 would be the smartest, but that Reuben's heart would 
 ache as sorely as the best. 
 
 Coscy. [Asiile.\ Perhaps she was not wrong, 
 
 Enlc)- Evans, tvith a letter, r. 
 
 Evans. Sir, — a letter for you. 
 
 [Exit, u. — Oive7i retires and reads the letter. 
 
 Reuh. [Advances.^ Thus, sir, — a little neglected, per- 
 haps, — though my heart suffered, my head was the bettei- 
 for it ; estranged from others, I grew the more acquainted 
 with myself; and by books — 
 
 Cosey. Books! what signifies books, if a man has not a 
 nice cash-book among them ? 
 
 Reuh. Would you trust the cultivation of j-our estate to 
 that man who would not benefit by his neighbour's expe- 
 rience ? 
 
 Cosey. Why, no. 
 
 Reub. Then, in the m(Me important culture of the mind, 
 what must he be, who will not gather from the store of 
 human wisdom, those seeds, which produce in the heart 
 and understanding, the inestimable harvest of knowledge 
 and virtue 1 
 
 Cosey. Humph ! I'm not quite sure but I shall like 
 this fellow. Why, one wouldn't hear much better than 
 that in the Common Council. Egad ! if Rosalie likes 
 him, be it so ! but mum ! 
 
Scene If.] 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 27 
 
 Enter Rosalie and Mrs. Moreen, r. 
 
 Reuh. Rosalie ! [Runs to her. 
 
 Cosey. Ah ! she's his omnium, I see ! 
 
 Owen. Here's a letter from your brothei". 
 
 Reub. A letter ! — why is he not here himself? 
 
 [Takes a letter. 
 
 Owen. He's with his wife's rich relations. 
 
 Reub. Instead of his own poor ones, [Reading. 
 
 Owen. [Irritated.] You envy your brother 1 
 
 Reuh. I do, indeed. 
 
 Owen. You never loved him. 
 
 Reub. Father, I've heard my manners, habits, studies, 
 all derided with a smile ; but now you insult my heart. 
 
 Owen. Did you not say y^u envied your brother? 
 
 Reub. I do : — I envy him the place he holds here. 
 
 [Putting his hand on his father's breast. 
 
 Owen. Reuben, I've done you wrong. Why did not 
 you go into the world ? why force your brother ? 
 
 Reub. Nay, I cannot answer such questions. 
 
 Rosa. 'Tis your father asks. 
 
 Reub. Ah, Rosalie, why tear my secret from my breast? 
 if I resigned my birthright to Augustus, perhaps it was 
 that I preferred my brother's prosperity to my own — if I 
 obstinately remained with my father — [Taking his hand 
 affectionately^ perhaps it was, that to a father's absence, I 
 preferred a father's frowns. 
 
 Owen. Reuben, dear Reuben ! 
 
 Reub. Pray, no more. [Goes up the Stage. 
 
 Owen. How have I wronged him ! he's like the iron 
 from our mines — full of fire, hardy and useful. 
 
 Rosa. And let me add, well tempered, and, I am sure, 
 capable of the highest polish. 
 
 Cosey. Well, my lad of metal, give me your hand. 
 [Shaking hands.] Devilish deal of it in his fingers. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Moreen, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Supper's almost ready, and now for the pre- 
 sent you brought. 
 
 Cosey. Well, be it so. When your father, my dear Ro- 
 salie, by his election contests with the family of the Plas- 
 tics — 
 
28 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act II. 
 
 Mrs. M. I hate the very name of them. 
 
 Cosey. Was compelled to leave England, he trusted his 
 affairs to my management. I sold off all, and paid his 
 debts to the world, w^hile he, poor man, was paying the 
 only one that remained — the debt due to nature. [Rosalie 
 rveeps.^ Come, come ; he neither left you penniless nor 
 friendless. 
 
 Rosa. Ah, no ! rich, rich in friends. 
 
 [Reuhen takes her hand. 
 
 Cosey. The money that remained, I took into the mar- 
 ket ; there I turned it and twisted it — in short, good nurs- 
 ing did fbr it in the Alley, what good nursing has done for 
 you in Wales ; and by giving my little charge nice slices 
 of loans, bits of bonus, and dividend dumplings, it throve, 
 and, like you, became plump and handsome. Well, last 
 week, at Garraway's, the Cardigan estate was again sold. 
 
 Owen. And who bought it ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Not one of the Plastics, 1 hope ? 
 
 Owen. Who did buy it, then 1 
 
 Cosey. Rosalie Somers ! 
 [Reuben drops Rosalie's hand, and remains abstracted. 
 
 Owen 8f Mrs. M. What 1 
 
 Cosey. I, as her agent, bought it for Rosalie Somers ! 
 
 Owen. Blessed news ! 
 
 Rosa. Oh, my dear guardian ! 
 
 Cosey. Yes, to-morrow the daughter of my early patron 
 takes possession of her father's castle. 
 
 Mrs. M. And I of the housekeeper's room, 
 
 Owen. But I can't imagine how — 
 
 Cosey. I dare say you can't; but make no apologies. 
 You live in the country, and of course your knowing any 
 thing isn't to be expected. Why, heyday, Reuben ! 
 don't you give Rosalie joy? Damn it, don't be shy! 
 Come, come, let us to supper, and then I'll show you the 
 title deeds. And don't you call that a present ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Then, with my large bunch of keys, I once 
 more sits me down in the red damask chair, he ! he ! I 
 say, perhaps I shall die there, he ! he ! 
 
 Cosey. Ay, that will be what I call comfortable. 
 
 [Exeunt Owen and Cosey, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. And be buried in the family vault, he ! he ! 
 Oh, if I do but live to see that day ! [Exit, r. 
 
Scene III J TOWN AND COUNTRY. 29 
 
 Reub. [Advancing, c] Miss Somers ! 
 
 Rosa. And why not Rosalie 1 Am I, then, by acquir- 
 ing a fortune, to lose a friend ? [ Taking his hand. 
 
 Reuh. Friend ! Oh, too lovely woman ! [Kneeling. 
 
 Rosa. [Agitated.^ Nay, I entreat. 
 
 Rcub. My swelling heart will not be controlled. — In 
 mercy, hear me — [Kneels.] My words shall not offend. I 
 ask but this — do not banish me your presence — my hap- 
 piness must ever be to see you happy ; then let me still 
 watch your steps, guard you from every ill; and, though 
 doomed to behold you another's — oh ! let me behold you ! 
 
 Rosa. Reuben, hear me : — receive my promise — Rosa- 
 lie will never wound the heart that loves her. Oh, never ! 
 
 Reub. Thanks ! thanks ! 
 
 Mrs. Moreen. [ Without, r.] Now, then, to supper. 
 
 [ Thunder. 
 
 Reub. Remember ! [Exeunt, r. 
 
 Scene III. — Supper on the Table. — Owen, Cosey, Mrs. 
 Moreen, and Tafpline discovered. 
 
 Enter Rosalie and Reuben, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Heyday ! here's a very blustering night com- 
 ing on. 
 
 Cosey. This is what I call comfortable. Come, Rosalie ! 
 
 Rosa. [Going to the table.] Reuben! 
 
 Reub. Pray, excuse me. [ The rustling of the wind is 
 heard.] Hush ! 
 
 Cosey. Lord, what a pretty whistling there is ! 
 
 Reub. Now the storm comes on. 
 
 Cosey. Shall I help you, my dear ? [ The storm increases. 
 
 Owen. [Starting up.] Ah, an approaching hurricane ! 
 Reuben, secure — 
 
 Reub. Hush, father ! All is secure. Do not alarm our 
 guest. 
 
 Cosey. [Alarmed.] ISo — so — some of the — sauce. 
 
 [ The storm- increases to violence. 
 
 Rosa. [Rises and goes to Reuben.] 'Twill be a fearful 
 night. [Reuben takes her hand in silence, and watches the 
 tempest. 
 
 Cosey. [AgiLated?\^ Eh — well — why don't you speak ? 
 Eh — Reuben — my dear friend — Rosalie — poor child ! 
 
30- TOWN AND COUNTRY, [Act II 
 
 Rosa. I assure you, sir, I'm not much alarmed. 
 
 Cosey. Very likely ; but I assure you, I am. [ Thun- 
 der.] Pray, is the firm of the house — I mean, is this house 
 firm? 
 
 Owen. Doubt it not. 
 
 Cosey. Ah ! but it stands all alone by itself; if it was 
 but in a row. This is moral peace ! this is content and a 
 cottage ! Oh, pretty, quiet London ! 
 
 Mrs. M. I wonder whether the windows are shut 1 
 [Exit Mrs. Moreen, r. — Williams heard at a distance, 
 without, L. 
 
 Wil. Reuben! 
 
 Reuh. Haik! 
 
 Cosey. What's the matter? 
 
 Wil. Reuben ! 
 
 Reuh. Ah ! I am called. [Opens the door. 
 
 Enter Williams, l. 
 
 Wil. I heai'd the cry of some one in distress ; but the 
 storm rages with such violence — 
 
 Reuh. Never fear ! let us prepare. 
 
 [Exeunt Williams and Reuhen, L. 
 
 Rosa. Some distressed travellers. 
 
 Cosey. Well, I am very sorry ; but you know it can't 
 be helped : don't you think we had better go to bed 1 
 
 Cosey. Look here, cousin ; how sublimely awful ! 
 
 Cosey. [Peeping out.] Very. 
 
 Owen. Let us look out. 'Tis what you may not see 
 again. . [Exit, r. 
 
 Cosey. No, I'll take care of that, you may depend on't. 
 
 [Exit, R. 
 
 Enter Reuben, l., zcith a pole, pointed at the end with iron. 
 
 Reuh. Adieu, Rosalie ! Now Providence direct my 
 steps ! 
 
 Rosa. Heaven shield thee, noble, dear Reuben. 
 
 [ Co7ifused. 
 Reuh. [Drops the pole.] Pray be careful ; your words 
 to me are life or death, " Dear Reuben !" Let it not 
 unman me ! [ Wdliams without, l. 
 
 Wil. We are ready. 
 Reuh. No. [Snatching up the jJoZe.J Let it rouse ray 
 
ScEffE III.J TOWN AND COUNTRY. 31 
 
 soul to virtuous enterprise ! My glorious aim snail be to 
 merit it. [Exit, l. 
 
 Rosa. Heaven guide and protect him. 
 
 Enter Ov/ EiV, r. 
 
 Owen. Be cautious, Reuben. — Come, bustle — bustle- 
 keep up the fire within, and prepare warm beds. 
 
 Mrs. M. [ Without, R.j I'll take care, I warrant you. 
 
 Owen. The rage of the storm seems to abate. Come, 
 Taffline — let us beguile the anxious hour with the simple 
 melody of some native song. 
 
 "SONG. — Taffline. 
 
 Llewelyn with his Patience dear, 
 Was joined in wedlock's bund. 
 
 When wars alarm his ear, 
 The foe invades the land. 
 
 He marched among the valiant throng- 
 All proud of heart was he. 
 
 And smiling, cried, my lovely bride, 
 I'll soon return to thee. 
 
 Oh, Kora — Oh, Kora, I'll soon return to tl 
 
 She hears the drum, the victor's ciy. 
 
 Your laurels now prepare ; 
 She views their march with eager eye,— 
 
 Her lover is not there ! 
 His knapsack blue, — shot through and throug! 
 
 They laid down on her knee. 
 And sii^hing, cried, Ah, luckless bride, 
 
 He'll ne'er return to thee. 
 Oh, Kora, &c. 
 
 She lost her love, she lost her wits, 
 
 She hastened far away, 
 And now on Snowdon's cliff she sits. 
 
 And wildly sings her lay. 
 My eyes I strain across the plain, 
 
 My hope, my love to see ; 
 My joy, my pride, behold thy bride, 
 
 Ah, sweet, return to me. 
 
 Ah, Kora, sweet, return to me- 
 
 Rosa. Heigho ! Reuben not yet come home ! — Suiely 
 I heard — again ! — \Runs to door.] He returns ! 
 
 Enter Reubkn and Williams, l., bearing Plastic in 
 their arms, who is insensible — his forehead bearing the 
 
 * This song is frequently omitted. 
 
32 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act II. 
 
 marlcs of a wound — Evans leads Hawbuck across — 
 Mrs. Moreen enters, r. 
 
 Owen. Well done, my son ! 
 
 [ They p7it Plastic info a chair. 
 Retih. Quick, quick, to the fire with him ! — Rosalie ! 
 Mrs. ill. He is senseless. There, there ! 
 Reub. 'Tis but a swoon, I hope. Take care of him. 
 Owen. Bear him in ; all will soon be well, I warrant. 
 [Plastic is carried off hcttceen Williams and Mrs. Mo- 
 reen, followed by Owen, r. 
 Rosa. Are you not fatigued, Reuben 1 
 Reuh. Not much. 
 
 Rosa. Is he a stranger whom you have succoured? 
 Reub. I don't know — his features were disfigured with 
 blood, and his eyes closed.. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Moreen, k. 
 
 Rosa. How is the gentleman I 
 
 Mrs. M. [ Running to a closet.] There is no great dan- 
 ger, I hope. — His wound bleeds freely, and he recovers 
 apace. He seems a nice young man. 
 
 [Exit tvitJi medicines. 
 
 Rosa. Surely you want rest and refreshment. — Come, 
 sit down. 
 
 Reub. Sweet Rosalie, I must forth again. — More tra- 
 vellers are out. 
 
 Rosa. Not to-night ! 
 
 Reub. Oh, think — perhaps some anxious wife, suriound- 
 ed by her little brood, with haggard eye and throbbing 
 heart, watches the oft-turned hour-glass, and, amid the 
 bowlings of the storm, vainly fancies she hears her hus- 
 band's voice. I may restore him to her. Oh ! could 
 these lids close with that thought kncK-king at my breast! 
 Once more, adieu ! And my work being fairly done, my 
 sleep will be the sweeter for it. [He takes her hand, and 
 kisses it respectfully.] " Rosalie will never wound the heart 
 that loves her." — Remember thy promise to me. 
 
 [Exit, L. s. E. 
 
 Plastic. [ Without, R.] Where is my deliverer 1 Con- 
 duct me to him. 
 
 Mrs. M. 1 Without.] Nay, nay, by and by ! 
 
 Plas. [ Without.] 1 am much better — pray, oblige me. 
 
Scene III.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 33 
 
 Enter Plastic, leaning on Mrs. Moreen, r. — A black 
 patch on his forehead, Jiis right arm in a sling. 
 
 Mrs. M. Why, if you will see Reuben, you must ! Is 
 he gone ? 
 
 Rosa. He is. 
 
 Plas. What angel's that? 
 
 Mrs. M. My young lady, Miss Rosalie Soniers. [Plastic 
 starts.^ What's the matter, sir'? 
 
 Plas. Nothing — I can walk alone. 'Tisshe! how beau- 
 tiful ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Is not she ? how pleased Reuben would be to 
 hear you say so — for he loves her so. 
 
 Plas. I do not wonder at it. 
 
 Rosa. I hope, sir, you have not sustained much injury ? 
 
 Plas. Stunned by the overturning of my carriage, and 
 rendered lifeless by the piercing cold, I should have pe- 
 rished, but for the exertion of my brave preserver. My 
 head and my arm are bruised, nothing more. [.Asjffe.J 
 Have I found you ? 
 
 Mrs. M. You seem a stranger — may we ask your name 1 
 
 Plas. [Aside.] 'Sdeath ! if I'm known, my hopes are 
 ruined ! — Maitland, madam. 
 
 Mrs. M. Not Captain Maitland, related to Sir Cardigan 
 Somers ? 
 
 Plas. Tbe same ; and happy in being thus indebted to 
 the humane attentions of my kind cousin. 
 
 Mrs. M. He's a sweet man. Pray, sir, do you happen 
 to know anything of the Plastics? 
 
 Plas. I keep no such company. 
 
 Mrs. M. The young one, I hear, is an oily-tongued 
 chap ; but he would find his match here — we'll surprise 
 him and his vulgar family to-morrow. 
 
 Plas. [Asidc.\ He'll do his best to return the compli- 
 ment. 
 
 Rosa. Come, sir, you must submit to your nurses. You 
 are still feeble and need repose. — Let me support you. 
 
 Pla-^. Thanks, my fair cousin. [Exeunt, h. 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
34 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I, — The Dining Room. 
 
 Enter Plastic, with caution, r. 
 
 Plas. Day breaks, and that Yorkshire booby not yet re- 
 turned ! If I effect my purpose, what a delicious triumph ! 
 Rosalie Somers my mistress ! love ! revenge ! all grati- 
 fied ! \Looks at his watch.] where can — oh, he is here at 
 last. Softly ! 
 
 Enter Hawbuck, l. 
 
 Haw. Thei'e be a chaise ready in road. — How tired I 
 be! 
 
 Plas. "Wait there till I come. 
 
 Haio. Lord, what it is to be a sarvant ! 
 
 Plas. You have not mentioned my name ? 
 
 Haw. Oh, no ! I had my reasons. 
 
 Plas. Your reasons ! 
 
 Haw. Why, one was, that I've foj-got what it is. 
 
 Plas. Convenient stupidity ! — forget your master's 
 name ? 
 
 Haw. Why, sir, they crammed my head so full at school, 
 that hang me if I think it will hold any more. 
 
 Plas. Maitland, blockhead ! 
 
 Haw. Oh ! ay ! so it is — I know fast enough. 
 
 Plas. Ah, a door opens ! — Go, and be ready. [Exit 
 Hawbuch, I,.] By all my hopes, 'tis she ! 
 
 Enter Rosalie, in a walking dress, r. 
 
 Rosa. Reuben not yet returned ! I'll walk, and per- 
 haps I may find him. [Seeing Plastic] Good morning, sir; 
 have you not ventured out too early. 
 
 Plas. Affairs of the first, consequence call me away. 
 My chaise waits in the road, and could I but see my pre- 
 server. 
 
 Rosa. Reubfin is not yet come home : but probably you 
 may meet him. 
 
 Plas. .[Aside.] I hope not. Is the place far off, where 
 he last night rescued me from death ? 
 
ScKNE I ] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 35 
 
 Rosa. Oh, no, sir. 
 
 Plas. Now, stripped of its horrors, I wish I could be- 
 hold it. 
 
 Rosa. I was about to walk that way. I'll point it out 
 to you, sir, with pleasure. 
 
 Plas. May not the morning air affect your health? 
 
 Rosa. Oh, no: I always walk thus early. 
 
 Plas. [Aside.] Let me control my joy ! Yet one 
 achievement more. — 'Tis hard thus abruptly to quit this 
 hospitable roof; but my happiness demands it. Yet, at 
 least, let me leave a written testimony of my gratitude. 
 
 Rosa. Here is a pen and ink, sir. [Presenting writing 
 inateriah. — Plastic attempts to write, hut expresses painful 
 scnsations\ I fear you suffer pain, sir, from your wounded 
 arm. 
 
 Plas. Agony ! But it would be greater torture to 
 depart, without expressing the feelings of a grateful 
 heart. 
 
 Rosa. Shall I take the pen ? 
 
 Plas. Will you be so kind ? I can sign it. 
 
 Rosa. True, sir : — Pray dictate. [Writes. 
 
 Plas. " What apology can I offer for thus abruptly leav- 
 ing those who have so kindly sheltered and protected 
 me % But love beckons, and pleasure awaits me ! There- 
 fore, I hope the hearts of those I leave behind, will par- 
 don mine for thus following its ardent dictates." 
 
 Rosa. Now, sir, your signature. 
 
 Plas. [Aside.] Not for a thousand 
 
 Rosa. Sir ! 
 
 Plas. A ill lu sand thanks. 
 
 [Folds the letter without aigmng tt. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Moref.x, dressed in brocade, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Bless me ! what, are you going to walk out? 
 I fear I've mistaken the hour. 
 
 Plas. [Presenting a watch. \ This, madam, may in fu- 
 ture prevent that inconvenience. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, sir! 
 
 P/as. Put it up — Come, fair cousin ! but this letter — 
 
 Rosa. [ Taking it.\ Give this to Reuben — adieu ! 
 
 [C70sses, \.. 
 
 Mrs. M. They're a sweet couple — pity they should 
 part, I think. 
 
36 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 
 
 [Act Iir. 
 
 Plas. \^Aside.] I think so, loo. — She's mine ! 
 
 [Exeunt Plastic a?id Rosalie, L. 
 
 Mrs. M. That's a true gentleman, assure as thisistiTie 
 gold. With my keys on this side, and my watch on this ! 
 [A harp flays toithont?^ Oh, here come the neighbours — 
 eh ! such a day as this will be ! 
 
 Enter Owen, l. 
 
 Owen. Welcome, my pretty lasses. 
 
 Mrs. M. They are rather late, though — at least, by my 
 watch. 
 
 Owen. What a beautiful gown you have on, ma'am ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Do you think so ? I mean now to wear such 
 tasty, fashionable clothes as these every day. 
 
 Owen. Where's Rosalie. 
 
 Mrs. M. She walked out with Mr. Maitland, about — let 
 me see, by my watch, four minutes and a half ago. 
 
 Owen. Is not my son Reuben returned 1 
 
 Mrs. M. No, sir ; but I dare say he'll be here soon ; for 
 I perceive 'tis near eight o'clock. Now, go and prepare 
 them to give Miss Rosalie joy — you don't know how hap- 
 py you are all to be. I'll come to you in — let me see- 
 ay, in five minutes. 
 
 Owen. [ Takes the watch.] Very splendid, indeed ! 
 
 Mrs. M. A present from Mr. Maitland. 
 
 Enter Williams, running, s. 
 
 Wil. Oh, dear sir ! 
 
 Owen. You look alarmed — Speak — Reuben 1 
 
 Wil. Is safe ; but Miss Rosalie 
 
 Owen. What? 
 
 Wil. Is gone ! 
 
 Owen. Is gone ! 
 
 Wil. A post-chaise and four flew along the road ; and 
 in it were Miss Rosalie and the gentleman we brought 
 home last night. 
 
 Owen. Cousin Cosey ! cousin Coscy ! awake ! 
 
 [Knocks at his door. 
 
 Wil. I'll swear it was MissSomeis. [Exit Williams, l 
 
 Mrs. M. What, eloped ! 
 
 Owen. [Calling.] Cousin! cousin! Mr. Cosey, awake ! 
 
 Cosey. [ Without, L.J What's the matter? 
 
 Owen. What's to be done ? Cousin ! — Cousin I 
 
Scene I.] TOWN AND COUNTRY 37 
 
 Enter Cosey, half adeep, icith a nightcap on, and a candle 
 in his hand, l. 
 
 Cosey. What, 'tis all ovei- with us? "Well, heaven's will 
 be done. Mercy on us ! how it lightens ! 
 
 Ou-c7i. No, no, — awake ! 
 
 Cosey. Oh, dear, 'tis daylight ! "What's the matter 
 now ? — More rural peace ? more calm content ? 
 
 Owen. Rosalie is gone. 
 
 Cosey. Gone ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Has eloped. 
 
 Casey. Eloped ! [Greatly agitated.] Run to Bow 
 Street; call at the city marshal's: I'll to the Mansion 
 House. 
 
 Oicen. Mansion House ! 
 
 Cosey. Oh. I forgot where I was. Who's the lover? 
 
 Mrs. M. Her cousin. Captain Maitland. 
 
 Cosey. Maitland ! Nonsease ! To my knowledge, he 
 has been dead these twelve months. No, 'tis some inno- 
 cent swain, some virtuous villager. Oh, you're a damned 
 wicked set. 
 
 Enter Evans, with a small trunk, l. 
 
 Evans. Sir, I have just picked up this box, where we 
 found the gentleman last night. 
 
 Cosey. Get me a coach, sir ; I won't stay among you 
 another hour ! 
 
 Oiven. Perhaps this may discover — here's a name ! 
 [Clasj/s his hdiids, and exclaims,] Charles Plastic ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Who? 
 
 Cosey. Ir is. — Oli, the jade ! [Exit Evans, xoith trunk. 
 
 Mrs. M. Plastic ! Give me that watch. 
 
 Owen. Stay, let me see. [Looking at the seah.\ 'Tis 
 true, here are his family arms. 
 
 Mrs. M. Give it to me. [ Throws it down and treads on 
 it.] There, there ! I suj)pose miss will want me to be 
 her housekeeper — I hope she will! for, if I don't poison 
 them all — Oh, I shall faint ! [Falls into a chair, r. 
 
 Cosey. Pray don't! I dare say you ought; but, con- 
 sider, we have not time just now. Where's my coach ? 
 
 Mrs. M. It will kill ine. 
 
 Cosey. Now, don't die yet ; PU take it as a personal 
 favour. 
 
38 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act III. 
 
 Owen. Oh, my friend ! who dares tell this news to 
 Reuben ? 
 
 Coscy. Not I, I'm sure. 
 
 Owen. Poor fellow ! 'twill break his heart. 
 
 Cosey. No, don't say so. He'll bear it like a man, as I 
 do. [Sobbing.^ Graceless, unfeeling girl ! 
 
 Reub. \Without, -L.] Joy, joy to all! 
 
 Cosey. Here he comes ; now, don't tell him. — Talk 
 about anything else. Hush ! 
 
 Enter Reuben, l. 
 
 Reub. [Throws hi7nscJf into a chair, c] Heigh-ho ! 
 
 Owen. Fatigued, my son ? 
 
 Reub. Ay, father, my limbs complain ; but all here is 
 warm and well. [Striking his breast. 
 
 Cosey. (r. c.) What a fine thing courage must be, to 
 keep out so much cold ! 
 
 Reub. Sii', courage in the breast is like the cash in your 
 pocket, only placed there for the benefit of the unfortunate 
 who may want it. 
 
 Owen. (l. c.) Pray take some rest, Reuben. 
 
 Cosey. Ay, go to bed. 
 
 Mrs. M. Be persuaded, now do. 
 
 Reub. What, sleep to-day ! — Be dead to those sounds 
 of joy, which bear the name of Rosalie ? Oh, no ! 
 
 Owen. Then take some refreshment. 
 
 Reub. My mind shall banquet first; so, tell me where 
 is my Rosa — why do you turn from me ? Have I offended 
 any one ? Has my conduct merited 
 
 Owen. You have deserved blessings. 
 
 Reub. Which I shall receive. Even now, seated on a 
 rock, I beheld the rising sun : its earliest beam shone 
 upon me, and seemed to warm my heart, — seemed sent 
 as a reward, that, in its absence, I had done my duty. 
 But how is the gentleman I so fortunately succoured ? 
 
 Owen. Perfectly recovered. 
 
 Reub. And is not that a reward ? 
 
 Owen. And he is gone. 
 
 Reub. Vm sorry for it. The pilot that guides the shat- 
 tered bark into the wished-for haven, thinks his joy im- 
 perfect, unless he behold it floating on the wave, tranquil 
 and secure. Well, well, let him go. There is a smile 
 prepared for mo, that will atone for all. Where is she ? 
 
BcENE r.] TOWN ANT) COUNTRY. 39 
 
 Owen. She ! who ? 
 
 Reuh. Who ! who ! — Rosalie ! — again silent ! Father, 
 what means? — Rosalie! Rosa [Rushes off, k, 
 
 Owen. Poor fellow ! 
 
 Coscy. Noble fellow! Is this his reward? Stabbed 
 to the heart by the man he saved! Forsaken by the 
 woman he lived for ! \Bursts into tears.'\ I don't know 
 what to do ; all this is entirely out of my line, — this never 
 happens upon 'Change. 
 
 Owen. I dxead his return. What can I say to soothe — 
 
 Re-enter Reuben, r. 
 
 Reub. In mercy — at once — Rosalie — speak? 
 
 Owen. She has left us, Reuben. 
 
 Casey. Eloped with him you last night preserved. 
 
 Mrs. M. With young Plastic. 
 
 [Rcuhoi staggers into a chair, c. 
 
 Cosey. Come, come, she don't deserve a sigh. She's 
 gone, and there's an end. 'Tis all over, and we'll be, 
 what I call, comfortable, without her, and — eh ! 
 
 [Reuhe?i,J'celing his brain affected, his frame convulsed, 
 looks with anxiety at his father, then, catching Co- 
 sey's hand, whispers — 
 
 Reub. Persuade my father to leave the room. 
 
 Owen. No, no: thy father will not leave thee: thou 
 hast fasted long, pray take some refreshment. 
 
 Reub. I cannot ; my heart is here — choked ! choked ! 
 
 Cosey. But, perhaps she was beguiled away. Stratagem 
 might have been used. 
 
 Mrs. M. Lord, what a head liave 1 ! Heie's a letter 
 she desired me to give Reuben. \Rcubcn takes it. 
 
 Cosey. Oh, this may explain, — ])ut — put all things to 
 rights, you know. Sec, 'tis her hand. 
 
 Reub. [Kisses it.] Gone ! She said 
 
 Cosey. Read, read ! 
 
 [Reuhen attempts it, but gives the letter to Cosey. 
 
 Cosey. Let us see. [Reads.] "What apology can I offer 
 for thus abruptly leaving those who liave so kindly sheltered, 
 and protected me? But love beckons, and pleasure awaits 
 mc : therefore, I hope the hearts of those I leave behind 
 will pardon mine for thus following its ardent dictates.'" 
 
 Owen. Lost, abandoned girl ! 
 
40 TOWN AND COUNTRY. j-^ct III. 
 
 Cosey. Cruel ! 
 
 Reub. No, 'twas kindly meant to break my heart at 
 once. [Folding it to his breast.] There, be satisfied. 
 
 Owen. How wild his eyes are ! I fear his senses are 
 unsettled. 
 
 Reub. Let me go, father, I shall be better alone. 
 "Rosalie will never wound the heait that loves her!" 
 An angel spoke those words, and they are false. Oh, 
 tear them from my memory ! — they burn ! they madden ! 
 Father, why gird my poor brain with hoops of iron ? In 
 mercy, loose them. Ah, now I'm free ! — Rosalie, I 
 come ! [Reub. rushes out, l. 
 
 Oiocn. Here, Williams ! 
 
 Enter Williams, r. 
 
 Owen. Reuben has rushed out distracted. Ask not the 
 cause, — follow, save him ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Now, all I have to do, is to go into a poor- 
 house and die. 
 
 Cosey, What ! oh, you shameful lazy old woman ! go 
 into a poor-house when you can honestly earn fifty pounds 
 a year as my housekeeper! Come, cheer up! But, 
 whore's the coach ] 
 
 Enter Evans, l. 
 
 Evans. The post-horses are knocked up. Coachman 
 won't come. 
 
 Cosey. He won't ! Dam'me, I'll trounce him ! Do 
 you go and just take his number, that's all! 
 
 Evans. His number? 
 
 Casey. Oh, I forgot where I was. 
 
 Evans. Here's a letter, sii", from London. [Exit, l. 
 
 Cosey. [ Tdiki7ig it.\ From my clerk ; come to tell me, I 
 suppose, that stocks are ten per cent, against me, and 
 that waddle is the word, — very well ! never was in a bet- 
 ter humour for it. [Reads.] " Sir, I am sorry to inform 
 you," — blessed journey I've made of it! — " that Captain, 
 Glcnroy toas yesterday arrested." [Folds the letter. 
 
 Owen. What, my son, my dear Augustus, — nay, it shall 
 not be concealed, let me know the worst ; I can near it, 
 indeed I can. 
 
 Cosey. [Reads.] "J have,- according to your order, settled 
 with his creditor." 
 
SrE:«E II.] 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 41 
 
 Owen. Good, kind friend ! 
 
 Cosey. \R.cads.'] "But I find he. is completely ruined.''' 
 
 Owen. Wretched father ! my heart will break. 
 
 Coxey. Dam'me if it shall, though, for a few odd thou- 
 sands. I tell you what, I'll take Reuben to London with 
 me, — it may amuse him, poor fellow ! and I'm sure he'll 
 go, when he knows he can serve his brother. He'll play 
 the very devil in my little counting-house; but, never 
 mind, he'll reform Augustus. Come, come, let's find 
 him. 
 
 Owen. Would I were in my grave ! 
 
 Cosey. No, no; that would not be what I call comfor- 
 table. [Exeunt, l. 
 
 Scene II. — A desolate Mountain. Reuben discovered sit- 
 ting on a Rock, r. s. e., in a state of apathy. 
 
 Enter Williams and Ross, L. 
 
 Wil He's found ! 
 
 Enter Owen and Cosey, l. 
 
 Owen. (l. c.) Ah, my son ! raise him from the ground. 
 [They hring hiin forward.^ Do you not know me, Reuben ? 
 
 Reuh. (c.) Yes. 
 
 Owen. Here are all your friends and neighbors — all 
 that love you. 
 
 Reub. All that love mc ! [Looks about.] True, here are 
 all. 
 
 Ross. See your poor father ; pity his affliction ! 
 
 Reuh. My father ! where ? Oh ! do not weep. See, I 
 don't weep. 
 
 Cosey. [Aside.] Be sure you keep clear of Rosalie — 
 speak of his brother. 
 
 Owen. Have I, then, no cause for weeing! Thy 
 brother is ruined, — ruined by dissipation. You love 
 him ? 
 
 Reub. Love ! whom ? 
 
 Owen. Your dear brother. He is lost to virtue. 
 
 Reub. Who's lost to virtue ? [ With quickness. 
 
 Oicen. My son, Augustus. 
 
 Reub. Who? Augustus, did you say ? What! tell tiie 
 of him '\ 
 
42 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act UI. 
 
 Owen. Reuben, you may yet save him. 
 
 Reub. What ! save my biother 1 Oh, repeat, press it on 
 my benumbed heart, that I can save — 
 
 Cosey. Yes, yes ; you can : let us, my friend, leave this 
 place. 
 
 Reub. Ay, ay, instantly, for there she once reclined. 
 
 [Covering his face. 
 
 Owen. Take leave of your friends. 
 
 [ They approach Mm. 
 
 Ross. You vi'ill still i-emember us. 
 
 Wil. Still love us, Reuben. 
 
 Reub. [Bursts info fears.] I have now more cause than 
 ever, for you have made this heart to beat again ; but 
 strong reasons prevent my ever returning with you to 
 those scenes where we were all so happy. Heaven bless 
 you : now to Augustus — lose not a moment. 
 
 Cosey. Ay, go, go. 
 
 Owen. His poor father would die to save him, 
 
 Ceub. His brother will do more — he will live to save 
 him. [Exeunt Reuben and Owen, l. 
 
 Cosey. Farewell to you ! 
 
 Ross. Ah ! the poor will have cause to mourn his loss, 
 
 Cosey. Oh, true ; here be Reuben's agent. Take this 
 purse there. Good-bye to you all. [Exeunt Peasants, r.] 
 And now — [ Talcing off his hat, and bowing.] Farewell, 
 Ma'am Nature, as I don't mean to trouble you again, 
 grateful for all favours: you have broke my coach, broke 
 my shins, broke my rest, and almost broke my heart. 
 However, I have learnt to post your account under the 
 proper heads : for zephyrs, read hurricanes ; for dew- 
 drops, hail-stones as big as bullets ; for calm content, 
 thunder and discord ; and for village paradise, the devil's 
 own workshop, [Exit, h, 
 
 END op ACT III. 
 
ScENi: I.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 43 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 •Scene I. — A fashionable Egyptian Room in London. 
 
 Enter Stilt, witli various Tradesmen, r. 
 
 Stilt. Portei-, attend the door, foi* your master, Mr. 
 Trot, is expected from the countiy every moment ; and 
 mind, show him in here, the new Egyptian room, 
 f Tradesmen advance,, offering money \ Really, this is ex- 
 tremely irregular. It is true, that, as Major Dorao to 
 Mr. Trot, certain douceurs appertain to my office from 
 you gentlemen tradesmen. But presenting money in 
 this way, is indelicate and improper, because, by accept- 
 ing one offer, I may preclude a more liberal negotiator. 
 Therefore, attend : our expenditure will be enormous, 
 but our resources are infinite. To-morrow, bring your 
 proposals sealed up. The biddings may be at per 
 centage on profits; but remember, that I shall require 
 security for the performance of your contracts, and that 
 no tender can be received after one o'clock. \A knock at 
 the door, l.] Retire, and wait. [Exeunt Ti-adesmen, r.] 
 Attend the door. 
 
 Enter Thomas, preceding Mr. Trot, tvho, looking ahout, 
 stuvihles against Stilt. — Exit Thomas, l. 
 
 Trot. So, one fashionable buck is here already. — Oh, 1 
 know Mrs. Glenroy expected her husband. — Captain 
 Glenroy, I presume ? 
 
 Stilt. No, sir: I have the honour to be Major Dome — 
 
 Trot. Sir, 1 humbly ask pardon. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Trot, l. 
 
 Trot. My dear, give me leave. — Mrs. Trot, — Major 
 Domo : Major Domo, — Mrs. Trot, 
 
 Mrs. T. 1 shall sink with shame. — Major, indeed ! 
 
 Trot. Then, what gentleman is 
 
 Mrs. T. Your gentleman — your servant. 
 
 Trot. Oh ! [ Walks round hi??i, and cojupares clothes. 
 
 Stilt. Yes, sii', my talents are yours ; the consideration 
 eighty pounds a year, and your wardrobe. 
 
 * This Sccue is usually omitted in the Reprcscntatiou. 
 
44 TOWM AND COUNTRY [Act IV. 
 
 Trot. Oh, eighty pounds, and you take my clothes. 
 Suppose I make it a hundred, and let me take yours ? 
 
 Mrs. T. Mr. Trot, I blush for you. 'Tis time, indeed, 
 your drapery was changed. Let the proper people at- 
 tend. 
 
 Stilt. Yes, Ma'am. [Exit, l. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Glenroy, r. 
 
 Mrs. G. What, quarrelling so soon with the purveyors 
 of taste ? I assure you, fashion is very accommodating. 
 But where is Augustus all this while ? 
 
 \^Knoclcing at the door. 
 
 Mrs. T. Perhaps, 'tis he : I vow, I long to see him. 
 
 Enter Captain Glenroy, l. 
 
 Mrs. G. My dear husband ! 
 
 Capt. G. My sweet Honoria ! 
 
 Mrs. G. Ah ! you don't look well, Augustus. 
 
 Capt. G. Fatigued by military duty, nothing more. — 
 But, tell me, what says your father? Is he reconciled to 
 our marriage 1 Has your joui-ney been a happy one. 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, no : he refused even to see me. But 
 come, don't look so triste. How is our sweet infant — 
 well? 
 
 Capt. G. Quite well. 
 
 Mrs. G. Have you longed for my return ? I shall hear 
 what a rake you've been. But 1 ask a thousand pardons. 
 I prattle out of tune. Captain Glenroy. \P resenting him. 
 
 Mrs. T. Cliarming fellow ! 
 
 Trot. Pretty soul. 
 
 Capt. G. You]- protection of Mrs. Glenroy, Madam, 
 claims my acknowledgments. 
 
 Mrs. T. Sir, I hope you will consider this house, and 
 its pleasures, at your command. 
 
 Capt. G. Infinitely obliged by your politeness. 
 
 Trot. [To Mrs. Glenroy.] Never mind fathers. — YouT 
 find those who will be happy to serve you. 
 
 Mrs. G. Highly flattered by your friendship. 
 
 [ Trot and Mrs. Trot advance on Mr. and Mrs. Glen- 
 roy, who, homing, retreat unperceived. 
 
 rp _ , ( Beautiful woman ! Oh,lud.' 
 
 M T i ^'^ (!och other. < Elegant youth — A — hem! 
 ^ ( You are not going? 
 
Scene II.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 45 
 
 [Cajjfain and Mrs. Glenroy advance. 
 
 Capt. G. We must intrude here no longei-. 
 
 31rs. T. Positively, 1 forbid it, till you have taken re- 
 freshments. Happy pair! And yet, my young friends, 
 you'll find wretches, who will want to part you. 
 
 Mrs. G. [Affectijig alarm.] Do you think so? 
 
 Trot. Oh, yes. 
 
 Mrs. G. [Smothering a laiigh.\ I vow you quite alarm 
 me. Then, how prudent will it be in us, to cement a 
 friendship here, where we behold the sweet union of two 
 heai'ts, which at once excites our envy and imitation. 
 
 Mrs. Trot. Very ti'ue : — We are indeed blessed. [To 
 Trot, angrily, and aside.] Why don't you look tender. 
 
 Mrs. G. There's an interesting picture ! Come, my 
 Augustus ! 
 
 Capt. G. My sweet Honoria. 
 
 [They join hands. — Exeunt, l. 
 
 Mrs. T. [Imitating.] Come, my Peter ! 
 
 Trot. Oh, my Peggy ! [Exeunt, l. 
 
 Scene II, — London — Plastic's House — Staircase in the c. 
 of the stage. 
 
 Plastic desce?ids, with a key in his hand. 
 
 Plas. (c.) Very well, my proud heroine ! If you will 
 be insensible to the pleasures I intend you, I must refer 
 you to time, and a patent lock, both wananted sure in 
 their operations. Unreasonable Rosalie Somers ! iSweet 
 name ! 'twould be a thousand pities to change it ! Not 
 but a sham marriage would be a convenient sedative 
 enough for the qualms of conscience. But, damn it, they 
 are only to be found in novels or plays. 
 
 Enter Hawbuck, l., running. 
 
 Haw. Lord, sir, I'm glad I've found you, 
 
 Plas. Where have you been 1 
 
 Haw. That's what I want to know. They sent me out 
 to look for you, and they told me to call at the Cocoa 
 Tree — the Thatched House. But damn the tree or 
 thatched house could I see in the whole place. 
 
 Plas. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Haw, But I say, sir, had you seen, as I was jaistering 
 
46 - TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act IV. 
 
 along, how waggishly the lasses looked at me — made I 
 quite shameful. — Ah ! thinks I, I wish I knew where to 
 buy some of that pratty bold stuff that you put on your 
 faces. So, looking about, I saw written again a house 
 side, " The London Assurance." — Dam't, says I, this is 
 the shop, and in I jumped; but I ware wrong again — 
 however, they told me not to be frightful, for they v/ould 
 insure me my life, which was very civil ; for, just before, 
 I had a'most been run over wid coaches. 
 
 [A knocking at the door, L. 
 
 Plas. See who's at the door. [Haivbuck going, B. 
 
 That's not the way. 
 
 Haio. You know I can see who it is at window. 
 
 Plus. Answer the door. 
 
 liaio. Answer a door! he, he, he ! 
 
 Plas. 'Sdeath ! open it. 
 
 Haw. Oh ! — [Exit, l. — Returns.] Sur, it be Captain 
 Glenroy. 
 
 Plas. Show him in ; and, do you hear ? — when he is 
 gone, carry some refreshments up stairs — You understand 
 — be careful. [Giving him the key. 
 
 Haw. Oh, snug. [Exit, l. 
 
 Re-enter Hawbuck, shoiving in Captain Glenroy, l, — 
 Exit Hawbuck, r. 
 
 Plas. (r. c.) Glenroy, I'm very glad to see you. 
 
 Caj^t. G. (l. c.) Thank you, Charles. 
 
 [Throws himself into a chair. 
 
 Plas. You seem disturbed. [ With keen inquiry.] Any 
 ill news from Wales 1 
 
 Capt. G. No, no. [Asidc}^ Thank Heaven, they are 
 unacquainted with my conduct. Did my poor father 
 know my folly, my misery ! [Strikes his forehead. 
 
 Plas, Well, how has foituiie behaved to you ? 
 
 Gaft. G. As she does to all who ti-ust her — beggared 
 me. 
 
 Plas. Some she enriches. 
 
 Capt. G. None : those who win, put their trust in a 
 deity that takes more care of its votaries. The child of 
 fortune plays fair, and is ruined ; the pupil of fraud 
 cheats and thrives. [Rises. 
 
 Plas. Then, why pursue a losing game 1 
 
SCXNE II.J 
 
 •OWN AXD COUNTRY. 47 
 
 Capt. G. Why does the glutton banquet with the gout? 
 Wliy does the lover court the mistress who wrongs him ? 
 Simply, because he's mad. However, I am cured. 
 
 Plus. \^Asidc.\ Those who have not left themselves a 
 guinea to stake, generally are. 
 
 Capt. G. Gaming, Charles, must end in ruin. 
 
 Plas. And life must end in death, yet we're devilish 
 jolly ! [Rises.] And remember, that a lucky moment fM 
 play, like the cx-isis of a fever, may produce convalescenc* 
 in our purses, and make us good for another camprAgp 
 [/l,s/c?r.] I wish he were gone. — So, spite of your lecturt* 
 1 shall be off to the club. 
 
 Capt. G. Ha2>py fellow ! — I mean, I pity you. 
 
 Plas. Ha, ha ! thank you. 
 
 Capt. G. I have done, I tell you ; and my commis 
 si on 
 
 Plas. Will amply support the establishment of the 
 most fashionable wife in town, ha, ha! 
 
 Capt. G. Damnation ! But for my beloved Honoria, 
 \ could smile at poverty. By all that's sacred, 'tis for het- 
 sake alone that — 
 
 Plas. You will condescend to accept the loan of a few 
 hundreds, and once more try — [Presenting notes. 
 
 Capt. G. Charles — gcnenjus fellow ! — If you really 
 think I ought to try once more, why — 
 
 Plas. Upon my soul, I do. 
 
 Capt. G. But, only once more. 
 
 Pins. Oh ! certainly — only once more. Well, Glenroy, 
 I'll follow you — throw boldly, my boy — but don't clear 
 all out ; leave me the sweepings. 
 
 Capt. G. Farewell. Hojie and despair both uige me 
 on. Exit, I.. 
 
 Enter Hawbuck, c. u. f., carrying refreshments. 
 
 Plas. Very well — not a word. [HaichucJc ascchds tJic 
 stairs.] Sf), Crlenroy is in my power, and if the necessities 
 of his wife should require the same sum, why, she'll be in 
 my power too. [A crash oj hrohcn china and glass is hcard.\ 
 Clumsy scoundrel! [Haivhuck runs donui the stairs. 
 
 Haw. Lord have mercy, sir! 
 
 Plas. What's the niatrer! 
 
 Ha}o. Matter! Why, Miss up-stairs be gone. 
 
48 TOWN AND COUNTKY, 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Plas. [Seizing hi?n hy the collar.^ Gone! impossible! 
 
 Hate. Quite impossible. [Plastic runs up.] Only she 
 happens not to be there, that's all. 
 
 Plas. [Above.] The window forced ! When — how ? 
 [Descends.] Run ! 
 
 Ilaio. Yes, sir. 
 
 Plas. Where are you running ? 
 
 Haw. I don't know. 
 
 Plas. 'Tis all owing to your damned stupidity. — You 
 should have watched, and — distraction ! my hopes de- 
 stroyed, my conduct exposed. [ Walks about agitated. 
 
 Haw. Ha, ha! Ecod ! she mun be a nice clever lass, 
 however, like. 
 
 Plas. [ With siij)pressed irritation.] 'Tis amusing, isn't 
 it? 
 
 Haw. Yes, varry, I think, — he, he ! 
 
 Plas. (r.) You do — here are five pounds for you. 
 
 Haw. Thank you, sir : nice snug place, this, I've got. 
 
 Plas. Now, go : I discharge you ! go ! [ Violently. 
 
 Haw. Go ! where % [Alarmed. 
 
 Plas. To the devil. — Go ! [Points to the door. 
 
 Hajv. I'll follow you, sir, if you please. 
 
 Plas. If you remain in this house five minutes, I'll 
 break every bone in your infernal ugly body. Out-tricked ! 
 exposed ! [Exit, l. 
 
 Haxo. My ugly body ! That's malice. Ecod ! he's 
 gone : however, I've got five pounds, and this grand coat. 
 Come, that's fair enough for three days' service. Ecod ! 
 I'm not quite so sui'e that I will go home. For if youi 
 cockneys be such flats as that, there can be no call for a 
 lad brought up in Yorkshire, to be in a hurry to go away. 
 
 [Exit, b; 
 
 Scene III. — A Fasldonablc street. 
 
 Enter Cosey and Reuben. 
 
 Casey, (c.) [Si?iging as he enters.] " Oh, rare London 
 Town ! charming London Town !" Thank heaven, here 
 we are ! Ay, here are nice hard flags to walk on — there 
 are your houses, so pretty, all of a row, like my ledgers. 
 Does it not raise your spirits, eh ? Only see me in the 
 city by-and-by — up to Lloyd's — down to the Jerusalem — 
 
Scene III.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 49 
 
 cross to the Bank — into the Alley — pop to Garraway's. 
 But, heyday, Reuben ! what are you looking for, eh 1 
 
 Rcuh. (r. c.) Is not my brother's residence in this 
 neif^hbourhood. 
 
 Cose;/. Oh ! true. Egad ! I had quite forgot. There 
 the prodigal lives : but he is not worth our care. 
 
 Reub. Oh, sir ! the hope of restoring a brother to virtue, 
 is the only balmy drop that is mingled in my cup of bit- 
 terness : do not dash it from my, lips. 
 
 Coney. He is an incorrigible gamester. 
 
 Reub. I hope not. But should his misfortunes urge 
 him to despair — think of my poor father. Who then will 
 cheer his latter days ? 
 
 Cosey. Has he not Reuben ? 
 
 Rcuh. He may not live long. 
 
 Cosey. Come, come, no more of that. There's my 
 pocket-book ; the contents are yours. But don't let 
 brotherly love get tlie better of honest discretion. 
 
 Reub. Worthy friend, doubt me not. 
 
 Cosey. Grood-bye ! but damn the dumps. I'll soon put 
 you in spirits. I sa,y, I'll show you our hall, and Bedlam, 
 and Newgate ; and we'll be so jolly ! And should I hear 
 anything of Rosalie — My dear fellow, I ask a thousand 
 pardons for bringing her to your mind. 
 
 Reub. [ With a melancholy S7nile.\ Bringing her to my 
 mind! Ah, sir! [Exit, r. 
 
 Cosey. An ungrateful jade ! Where can she be 1 
 Pugh ! no matter. I would not go the length of this 
 cane to save her from — [Looking out.] Eh ! why, sure, is 
 that — [Running and calling.] — Rosalie ! won't you speak 
 to your old guardian ? Oh, lud ! no — nothing like her.— 
 No, not the length of this cane ! 
 
 Enter Trot, l. 
 
 Ah, my old friend ! — Welcome to London ! 
 
 Trot. [In a melancholy tone.] Thank you. 
 
 Cosey. Isn't it a jolly place 1 
 
 Trot. Oh, veiy. 
 
 Cosey. But, heyday ! you don't seem to be what I call 
 comfortable. 
 
 Trot. No, not particularly so. 
 
 Cosey. That's because you don't live in the city. — 
 Here, even their language is unintelligible. 
 
50 TOWN AND roUNTF.Y. [Act IV. 
 
 Trot. Oh ! but I've learned some of that. When 
 anybody says, " How are you ?" I am to say, I am in 
 great force, and that my wife's in high preservation ; then 
 I'm to throw in taste and style into every sentence, just 
 like mace and cloves in a cookery book. 
 
 Coseij. Then, their late hours — 
 
 Trot. Why, that's pretty well managed : for, when we 
 have a party, I am to sup before dinner, and then I can 
 attend to the guests. But, zounds ! they won't attend to 
 me : they make such a fuss about the new woman, as 
 they call my wife, that nobody thinks of the old man. 
 Last night, when the rooms were as full as a bag of cot- 
 ton, they elbowed me about, till I was forced to tell them 
 who was the man of the house ; and then, a squalid, 
 nankeen-faced fop lounged up to me, munching a bunch 
 of grapes that cost me a guinea, and, sputtering the skins 
 in my face, said I v/as a damned fine fellow, and had 
 better go to bed. 
 
 Cosey. Oh, 'tis like them. 
 
 Trot. But that was nothing to what I went through at 
 the club. * 
 
 Coscij. What ! have you been at a stylish club, too ? 
 
 Trot. Oh, yes: and one member said, if I would make 
 it worth his while, he would caricature me ; another 
 asked me if I was ever out? I said, every morning; 
 then they all laughed at me. In short, they set me on 
 fire with ice-cream made of cayenne, and quenched m» 
 with claret ; and, when I was completely, what they 
 called, turned up, they ordered a porter, pinned my 
 direction on my back, and sent me home as damaged 
 goods. 
 
 Cosey. Ha, ha ! Oh, rare London ! I beg your par- 
 don — ha, ha ! ^Looking at Ms icatcJi.] Egad I I must be 
 off to 'Change. 
 
 Trot. Ah, if I could but muster courage enough to 
 have my own way — 
 
 Cosey. Why, that can't require much resolution. 
 
 Trot. And go into the country. 
 
 Cosey. Ah ! that must require a good deal. But, 
 zounds! be determined ; and, if vou dislike your stylish 
 hfe, sell the house, and all thai';; in it. 
 
 Trot. Whv, I've had it but a v.cek. 
 
SCEKE III.] 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 51 
 
 Coscy. So much the more fashionable : for now the 
 run to ruin is so rapid, that the upholsterer has hardly 
 done knocking up, when in pops the auctioneer, and ho 
 begins knocking down. [Exit, l. 
 
 Trot. What an expense ! How many times must my 
 spinning-jennies turn round before this account is bal- 
 anced ! Among them, 1 was happy — so busy from 
 morning to night, I liad not time to eat or sleep. Ah ! 
 those jolly times are over! Here, T may twirl my thumbs 
 all day, oi' — 
 
 Enter Rosalie, l., running. 
 
 Rosa. (l. c.) Oh, in mercy save me ! [SitiJcing down. 
 
 Trot, (c.) A woman in distress ! Be composed — there, 
 there ! [Supporting her. 
 
 Rosa. Oh, defend me ! 
 
 Trot. That I will. 
 
 Rosa. 1 fear I'm ])ursued. 
 
 Trot. No, no — you are safe. What do you fear? — 
 From whom do you fly 1 
 
 Rosa. A wretch, wlio, by a vile stratagem, tore me 
 from my friends, and, as he thought, secured — 
 
 Trot. Don't tremble so. There — recover your spirits. 
 And how did you escape ? 
 
 Rosa. I'll tell you, sir; the room I was confined in 
 looked into an obscure street, where T observed some 
 workmen employed. T watched an opportunity, by signs, 
 to implore their assistance, and showed them my purse. 
 Fortunately, they understood me, and raised a ladder 
 against the window, which they forced open, and thus 
 enabled me to effect my escape. I threw them their re- 
 ward, and fled ; but I fear I shall be pursued. 
 
 Trot. Fear nothing. — Where shall I conduct you ? 
 
 Rosa. Alas ! I know not ; my friends live in Wales, 
 sir. 
 
 Trot. Well, well ; my house is at hand, and I shall like 
 it the better for sheltering you, my pretty innocent ? So 
 come. Have you any objection to inform me who you 
 are 1 
 
 Rosa. Oh, sir, I have no concealments. My name is 
 Rosalie Somers. 
 
 Trot. Rosalie Someis ! Zounds ! what shall I do ? — 
 
52 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act IV. 
 
 You must know, Miss Somers, that I had the TOisfortune 
 — no, I mean simply, I married into the family of the 
 Plastics : and my wife — she — that is, perhaps — 
 
 Rosa. I understand : she would not receive me. De- 
 serted, miserable girl ! 
 
 Trot. Hold ! I certainly am married to Mrs. Trot, but 
 as certainly not wedded to her opinions. And, though, 
 between ourselves, I believe I may have sunk a little the 
 dignity of the husband, I hope I have not degraded the 
 character of the man; so fear nothing. I'll conduct you 
 to the protection of a kind lady, the Honourable Mrs. 
 Glenroy. 
 
 Rosa. Mrs. Glenroy ! — She is related to my dearest 
 friends. Oh, thanks, thanks ! Would I were there ! 
 
 Trot. Why, sure, you are not afraid of me ? 
 
 Rosa. No, sir ; you look like a very harmless gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Trot. Egad ! they would not find me so who attempted 
 to insult you ; and, so far from fearing to encounter a 
 hundred of your fighting-bloods, curse me if I think I 
 should be afraid of meeting Mrs. Trot ! I dare say I 
 shall look quite smart by her side. [Cocking his liat.\ So, 
 take my arm, my dear; nay, don't hurry: we'll proceed 
 leisurely, and enjoy the walk, and talk of tliis, that, and 
 t'othei-. \l^xcunt, n., arm in arm ; he strutting and flou- 
 rishing his cane. 
 
 Scene IV. — An Apartment in Captain Glenroy' s House. 
 E7iter Reuben, /ireceJefZ by Robert, l. 
 
 Reuh. Your lady, you say, is in her own apartment. 
 
 Serv. Yes, sir; I believe she is dressing. 
 
 Reuh. I wish to speak with her. 
 
 Serv. I don't think she'll be at home, sir, 
 
 R&ub. Why, 'sdeath ! don't you say she is at home? 
 
 iSerz'. No, sir; I only say she is not out. 
 
 Reuh. Psha! go, and acquaint her a gentleman must 
 see her immediately. 
 
 Serv. Your name, sir ? 
 
 Reuh. I'll tell her my name, sir. — Go. [Exit Robert, r.] 
 How changed my nature ! I feel my heart contract 
 witbin me, as if it shrunk from all commerce with social 
 
Scene I V.J TOWN AND COUNTUY. 53 
 
 feeling. Let me not, however, while I lament that vice 
 is the common shade in the portrait of the human heart 
 — no, let me not forget, that it is but the shade ; — and 
 infernal must that eye be, which dwells only on the 
 sombre spots of the picture, blind to tlie warm colouring 
 of the affections, and the glowing tints of active benevo- 
 lence. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Glenrov, r. h. 
 
 Mrs. G. (l. c.) Sir, I am quite shocked that you should 
 have been admitted. 
 
 lieub. Madam, I didn't mean to intrude. [Rctirijig. 
 
 3Irs. 6r. Dear sir, don't mistake. I presume you know 
 'tis the height of ill-breeding to let anybody in, that's kind 
 enough to inquire after one's health. 
 
 jRcub. I did not know that, madam ; yet am glad to re- 
 ceive from your fair self the pleasing evidence that the 
 inquiry is needless. 
 
 BIrs. G. I am well, I thank you, sir. Health is quite 
 the fashion. 
 
 Keith. Indeed ! then I hope, for your sake, madam, 
 fashion will no longer be distinguished for its fickleness. 
 
 M)-s. G. To whom am I indebted for these kind 
 wishes ! 
 
 Reuh. Madam, I am the elder brother of that miserable 
 and degi'aded man, your husband. 
 
 Mrs. G. Miserable ! degraded ! [Indignantly. 
 
 Renb. Ay, lady. — Must he not be miserable, who risks 
 at play what might preserve his family from ruin 1 Is 
 he not degraded, who, by dissipation, contracts debts, 
 and withholds from honest industry its hard-earned pit- 
 tance ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Vulgar and contemptible ! You the brother 
 of Augustus 1 
 
 Reub. I have confessed it. 
 
 Mrs. G. I am sorry for it. 
 
 Reub. So am I. But I prefer humiliation to falsehood. 
 
 Mrs. G. [Courtcs}jing.] 1 would wish, sir, to be mistress 
 of my own time, as soon as it may suit your convenience. 
 
 [ Gni/ig. 
 
 Reub. Madam, my business hcie is to serve, rather 
 than to please ; to speak the severe language of truth, 
 not the soft blandishments of flattery. Yet, believe me, 
 
54 TOWN AND COUNXnY. [Act IV, 
 
 niy nature (though perhaps blunt) is averse to insult : 
 and, should I prosjier in snatching a beloved brother from 
 ruin, the joy of my heart will be damped indeed, if, in 
 saving him, I forfeit your kind estimation. 
 
 B'hs. G. [^Presenting her hand.] All is forgotten, — You 
 are my husband's brother, 
 
 Reub. And your devoted friend. [ Taking her hand and 
 kissing it.] How does your sweet infant? Where is my 
 little nephew ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Quite well, and with his nurse, 
 
 Reub. Surely, I am with his nurse ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, no, sir; 'tis not the fashion for ladies — 
 
 Reub. The fashion ! Now, is it possible, a woman 
 should be so lost to her own felicity, as to lavish on a 
 hireling the cherub smile of instinctive gratitude, which 
 beams in the eye of infancy, while nestling on that bosom, 
 at once the fountain of its life and pillow of its rest 1 Oh, 
 my young matrons, in thus estranging your little offspring, 
 you forsee not the perdition you cause ; you know not 
 the earthly pai-adise you abandon. 
 
 Mrs. G. [Stro7igly affected.] Sir — you are eloquent, 
 
 Reub. 'Tis the subject that is so : Nature wants no 
 orator to plead her cause. Ha ! a tear ! Oh, hide it not ! 
 Believe me, my dear -sister, no gem that sparkles in your 
 dress is half so ornamental as that glistening drop, which 
 your overflowing heart now shoots into your eye, endear- 
 ing evidence of maternal sympathy. 
 
 Mrs. G. I feel my error. Oh ! why did not your 
 brother thus admonish, thus — 
 
 Reub. I am your friend, but he is your lover : and he 
 who loves truly will suffer much ere he can teach his 
 eye the scowl of discontent. Long, long will his heart 
 throb with agony, before one groan shall disturb your 
 slumbers, one breath of reproof ruffle your peaceful 
 bosom. 
 
 Mrs. G. Ah ! you have loved. \Reuben agitated.J Are 
 you ill ? 
 
 Reub. 'Twas nothing; 'tis past, I have learnt where 
 your' husband will pass his evening. I'll bring him to 
 you. 
 
 Mrs. <T, Oh, he will not leave his party. 
 
 Reub. He shall! He will not need compulsion to 
 
ScENi: I.J 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 55 
 
 come to the wife he loves. His fortunes are most des- 
 perate, — his character, his honour, perhaps his life, impli- 
 cated. 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, heavens ! In mercy do not say so, 
 
 Reuh. Do you, then, love my poor brother? 
 
 Mrs. G. Better than my life, a thousand times. 
 
 Reuh. Poor, did I call him 1 Ah ! he possesses — 
 
 Mrs. G. What? 
 
 Reuh. A treasure worth the empire of the world — a 
 virtuous woman's heart. Fear notliing, all shall be well. 
 
 Mrs. G. [Kissing his hari,il.\ I promised my dear Au- 
 gustus to meet him this evening at a party. I shall be 
 late. 
 
 Reuh. Pray, do not go ! 
 
 Mrs. G. Not go 1 
 
 Reuh. Come, 'tis the first favour I ever asked you. 
 
 Mrs. G. The whole world will be there. 
 
 Reuh. And cannot the whole world go on without you 
 for one night ? Hush ! I heard some one lamenting. 
 
 Mrs. G. 'Tis the cry of my dear little infant. 
 
 Reuh. Ay, it wants its mother. Come, I long to hold 
 it in my arms. 
 
 Mrs. G. But my dress is unfit — 
 
 Reuh. The best in the world ; these gewgaws will 
 delight the child : they're fit for nothing else. 
 
 \ Exeunt, R. 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
 A C T V. 
 
 Scene I. — A Suhscripfion House. An elegant supper set 
 out ; another tahlc, on which are pens, ink, paj^er, ^c. 
 An antc-chamher, viith. door in c, leading to a hazard- 
 room, &^-c. First Waiter, attending. Dice-hox /ward. 
 
 Groom Porter. [In the Hazard-Room.] Ace ! caster 
 out — 
 
 Capt. G. [In the Hazard- Room.] Fresh dice! 
 G. Por. Ready, sir ; goes' a main. 
 
 Enter Second Waiter, 
 
 First W. Well, what's doing] 
 
56 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act V 
 
 Second W. The Pharo's flimsy, but there's some fa- 
 mous strong Hazard. 
 
 Enter Reuben, l. 
 
 Reuh. So, here it is that fortune distributes smiles that 
 madden, and frowns that destroy. Her temple is indeed 
 magnificent. 
 
 First W. Sir, 1 believe you're not a subscriber. 
 
 Reub. Neither to the place, nor to the opinion of its 
 members. Is Captain Glenroy here ? 
 
 First W. Yes, sir. 
 
 Reuh. I must see him. 
 
 First TV. I dare not disturb him. 
 
 Reub. Indeed ! Luckily, however, I dare. 
 
 First W. Beg pai^don, sir, but you mustn't go thei'e : 
 it would be as much as my place is worth. 
 
 Reub. Then, sir, he must come to me. His wife wants 
 him at home. [ Waiter stifles a laug1i.\ Why, is truth never 
 spoken here, that you stare so, when you Ijear it? I must 
 in, I see. 
 
 First W. Indeed, sir, none enter that room but gentle- 
 men who play. [Dine-box heard. 
 
 Reub. Well, I play. How do they play? What do 
 they do? Oh, I perceive my mistake: fortune's candi- 
 dates, like others, are, I suppose, expected to produce 
 their qualifications. Look here — look here. [Showing 
 notes.] Are not these documents excellent proofs of my 
 eligibility to a seat there ? 
 
 First W. They are the ricrht sort of thing, sii', cer- 
 tainly. 
 
 Reub. I thought so. [Approaching the door, c] Play ! 
 amusement! Why, to my ear, 'tis compounded of the 
 lamentations of misery, tlje laugh of madness, nnd the 
 execration of fiends. What fixed despair is settled in 
 that face. 'Tis my brother — leave the room — begone. 
 
 [Exeunt Waiters, i.. 
 
 Enter Captain Glenroy, c.,from the Tlazard-Rooir,, 
 
 Capt. G. My fate's concluded ! Ruined beyond hope! 
 — Where shall I go? — to my home? 'J'o conduct my 
 wife and child to a prison ? When 1 reflect on v,'hat 1 
 was, aj.d what I am ! Ah ! my dear father, are these 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 67 
 
 the fruits of all thy pious cares? Reuben, too — he, happy 
 with his Rosalie, [Reuben catches at a chair for supjiort,] 
 little thinks what torlmes rend his wretched brother's 
 heart — my beloved wife ! — will she not hate, perhaps 
 abandon me 1 Oli, for poison ! 
 
 [Sijihs into a chai?; cmd covers his face with Ids hands. 
 
 Rcub. [Aside.] h' you love as I have done, and she 
 should desert you, you will not need the poison you call 
 so loudly for. 
 
 Capt. G. Will wine give a respite to this agony ? [Fills 
 and drinks.] No, no; death, death only. — [His hand falls 
 on a hnifc, zohich he seizes.] Ah ! called him, and he's here. 
 Awful moment ! Yet let me j)ause — I dare not think — 
 Fountain of mercy, pardon a wretch. [Reuben seizes his 
 arm.] Horror! do I behold Reuben? 
 
 Re7/b. Do I behold Augustus 1 Madman — suicide — 
 brothei"! [Falls into his ar7/is.] Oh ! to meet you thus! 
 
 Capt. G. Pity and leave rno ! — I'm lust to liappines3 — 
 to hope ! 
 
 Reub. Are you lost to virtue? Look lliere : is that the 
 tomb of a deai- brotlier's lion(jur? 
 
 [Pointing, to the Hazard-room. 
 
 Cajit. G. My soul thickens at il ! 
 
 Revb. Be honest with mo : is there anything could 
 tempt you again to game / 
 
 Cajif. G. Not empires ! 
 
 Rcub. Can you resolutely promise that ? 
 
 Capt. C Soleinnly : and swear by that insulted 
 power — [Bows. 
 
 Ih'i/b. No oaths ! — Trulli is tiifhciently sacred. [Takr.t 
 his hand ivilh joyful exultation.] My brother shall again 
 know happiness. 
 
 Capt. (t. Impossible I 
 
 Renb. Did I ever deceive you ? 
 
 Capt. G. No : but you know not the extent of my 
 losses — deejily involved — rny commission pledged for a 
 debt of honour. 
 
 Rcub. Was it not befoi e jilcdged to your country ?— 
 And is it thus you discharge that detit of honour? 
 
 Capt. G. Oh, spare me 1 1 am, indeed, dishonoured! 
 
 Reub. Come, come; thai, too. shall be redeemed. 
 
 Capt. G. Beytormcri! Ah, Reuben, you look much 
 altered. Tell me 
 
5S TOWN AND COUNTRY. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Reuh. Of myself hereafter. I shall be better when I 
 see you happy. Come, leave this accursed place ; your 
 wife expects you. 
 
 Capt. G. I cannot join the gay circle where she now 
 shines. 
 
 Rcuh. She is at home, and with one who loves her. 
 
 Cnpt. G. Who loves her? 
 
 lieub. With your child, my brother: go and seek hap- 
 piness where only 'tis to be found — in the bosom of your 
 family. 
 
 Capt. G. My wife remain at home ! — You do not know 
 her. 
 
 Reuh. Much better than you do. You inebriate her 
 mind with draughts of flattery, and then wonder at the 
 want of reason yourself have caused. Instead of court- 
 ing a woman's smiles by adulation, resolve by manly 
 propriety to secure her respect; — instead of being the 
 servile echo of her opinion, be the mild, yet firm, asserter 
 of your own. Wives, my dear Augustus, may love to 
 control ; but, take my word for it, they must despise 
 the tame obsequiousness that submits to such usurpa- 
 tion. Go — go ; I'll follow, and bring your benefactor to 
 you. 
 
 Capt. G. Yet, tell me : my dear father — is he well? 
 
 Reub. Yes. 
 
 Capt. G. And how is — 
 
 Rcub. No more inquiries, but begone. Stay — stay! — 
 To whom have you pledged your commission ? 
 
 Cajit. G. To Charles Plastic. 
 
 Reub. To whom ? 
 
 Capt. G. Mr. Plastic. What agitates you ? Here he 
 is. 
 
 Reuh. Away — away, then : I'll soon be with you. 
 
 [Exit Captain Glenroy, L. 
 
 Enter 'PhASTicJ'rom the Hazard-Room. 
 Plas. Waiter, is my carriage there ? 
 
 Enter First Waiter from the Hazard-Room. 
 
 Wai. Not yet, sir. 
 
 Plas. Let me know the moment it comes ! [Exit 
 Waiter, l.] A precious lucky day I've had of it ! [Sz^^.J 
 
Scene I.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 59 
 
 Idiot ! fool ! — to kick down evci-y thing by backing ont 
 one infernal hand, and leave myself minus — I dare not 
 think bow much ! Well, Glenroy's commission must go, 
 and the rest must be raised — heaven knows where. What 
 do you want ? [ To Reuben. 
 
 Reuh. So little, that I am come to enrich you. 
 
 Plus. \^Risivg.] Upon my soul, I'm very much obliged 
 to you. Can I offer any — 
 
 Reuh. I want nothing of you but your attention. You 
 are acquainted with Captain Glenroy ] 
 
 Pla-i. My deaicst friend. 
 
 Reuh. From which dearest friend you have won that 
 which you must know will utterly ruin him. 
 
 Plas. Indeed ! 
 
 Reuh. Dishonour him in the eyes of those honest men, 
 who have trusted, and must suffer by him. 
 
 Plas. Really ! [ Yatoning. 
 
 Rciih. And make his lovely and amiable wife for ever 
 wretclied. 
 
 Plas. No — there you wrong me. Upon my honour, I 
 mean to do all I can to make her happy. 
 
 Reuh. I'm glad to hear that, however. 
 
 Phis. [Aside.] A precious stupid fellow I've got here ! 
 
 Reuh. Well, sir, I concur with you in feeling the 
 warmest friendsliip for Glenroy ; only we differ a little in 
 our mode of showing it. He tells me he has pledged his 
 commission to you : for how much 1 
 
 pins. A couple of cool thousands ; and I should be 
 devilish glad to see half ot it. 
 
 Reuh. There, sir, is the whole of it. [Presents notes. 
 
 Plas. My dear sir, I'm under the highest obligations. 
 [il.yiV/r.j Who the devil Is he '? I should like to know 
 a little more of this gentleman. — Sir, this favour is so un- 
 expected — so opportune — 1 wish from my soul I could, in 
 return, render any service — afford any information. 
 
 Reuh. You could, perhaps, give me some information 
 on a matter I am much interested in ; but it would trouble 
 you with the hearing of a dull tale. 
 
 Plas. Trouble ! — On the contrary, by the honor of your 
 confidence, my feelings would be highly gratified, [yls/t/e.] 
 Who the devil can this be ? 
 
 Reuh. (l. c.) At all events, your curiosity shall. [They 
 
60 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act V 
 
 sit.\ My father's fire-side was made happy by the presence 
 of a lady, to whose surpassing virtues and accompHshed 
 mind this heart paid a homage. Sir, 'twas adoration — 
 perhaps, 'twas impious. 
 
 Plas. (r. c.) And her person — 
 
 Reub. Oh, the sculptor might have studied her features 
 to improve the Medicean Venus. Her eyes, complexion, 
 form — Keep me to my story, will you, for 1 am apt to 
 wander. One stormy night, of more than common vio- 
 lence, the cry of distressed travellers reached us. 
 
 Plas. Travellers ! — Where might this happen 1 
 
 JReuh. In Wales. Perhaps you have been there, and 
 witnessed those sudden storms 1 
 
 Plas. I have been there. 
 
 Rcuh. Lately ? 
 
 Plas. Not very. 
 
 Reub. Oh ! I i-ushed forth, and at some personal peril, 
 reached the place, whei'e I found a genleman extended 
 on the ground, cold and insensible — the drifting snow 
 forming over him a wintry shroud. I took him in my 
 arms, and, strengthened by the hope of saving a fellow- 
 creature, bore him in safety to my father's house. 
 
 Plas. [Aside.] The man that saved my life ! Thank 
 heaven, he does not know me ! — Such conduct was brave, 
 noble — 
 
 Reub. If you please, we will call things by their proper 
 names. 'Twas the conscientious discharge of an imperi- 
 ous duty, nothing more. Yet, perhaps, you'll think it 
 claimed some little return of gratitude. 
 
 Plas. [Embarrassed.] Oh, certainly. 
 
 Reub. And how was it paid 1 I warmed this serpent 
 into life ; our hospitable roof sheltered him ; this lady 
 watched his bed ; he, devil-like, poured into her ear the 
 poison of his flattery ; coiled round her unsuspecting heart; 
 bore her from friends — from honour; devoted me to misery 
 — to madness — 
 
 Plas. Hold ! — Could you not recognise his features ? 
 
 Reub. No ; his face was disfigured by the blood that 
 flowed from a wound he had received in his forehead — 
 like that. [Pointing to a mark on Plastid s forehead. 
 
 Plas. A scratch with a foil in exercise. 'Tis unlucky 
 that his name should be unknown. 
 
 Reub. Ay ; but his name is known. 
 
Scene 1.] TOWN AND COUNTRY. 61 
 
 Enter First Waiter, i,. 
 
 First Woi. Mr. Plastic, your carriage waits. [Exit, i.. 
 
 Fins. Uamnatioii ! Sir, I shall take an opportunity of 
 expr(;.ssir)g mv gratitude. [Going, L. 
 
 licvh. [Catching his ar>?i.] Nay, tliink not to escape 
 me : these sinews are braced by ligorous toil ; the blood 
 that rushes from tliis heart flows like its feelings — warm, 
 steady, and uncorrupted. Where is she, sir? — Where is 
 jny — where is your Rosalie ? 
 
 Plus. Sir, we this morning parted ; she left me to — 
 
 lietih. And with honour? 
 
 Pins. With honour, [lleuhcn expresses thanks to heaven, 
 
 Keuh. One question more : does she love you ? 
 
 Plas. Does that require an answer.^ She left your 
 protection for mine; I thought you had received a letter 
 from her, expressive of — 
 
 JReuh. It is enough. I promised Rosalie my life should 
 be devoted to her happiness ; the task is hard indeed, but 
 it shall be performed. She has given you her heart: sir, 
 you must make yijurself woithy of it by the only atone- 
 ment in your power. 
 
 Plas. As how 1. 
 
 Penh. By marrying her? 
 
 Plas* Marry her? 
 
 Reuh. Surely he does not understand me! The pun- 
 ishment assigned you for shooting the icy bolt of death 
 tlirough this heart, which rekindled life in yours, is to 
 marry Rosalie Somers : to pass your life with her — to 
 have cherubs climb your knees, that call her mother: in 
 sickness and misfortune, to have her hand to smooth the 
 pillow for your head — her love to soothe the sorrows of 
 your heart! [Sits and writes.] You say you owe me gra- 
 titude : sign this — the debt is paid. 
 
 Plas. What does it contain ? 
 
 Ileuh. A promise of marriage. 
 
 Plas. Sir, I adore Miss Somers ; and, were not my for- 
 tune so inadequate to — 
 
 Reuh. But .she is rich — immensely rich : the Cardigan 
 estate is hers. 
 
 Plas. Indeed ! — The best speculation that could possi- 
 bly ofliM'. — Sir, I only wished the mraus to make her 
 h<ippy, and sign it with joy. [Signs, and goes, l. 
 
62 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act V 
 
 Reuh. 'Tis done. [Recovermg himself.] Do me the 
 favour of meeting me in half an hour at our friend's. 
 
 Plas. Friend! Who? 
 
 Reub. Have you so soon forgot your dearest friend, 
 Glenroy 1 
 
 Plus. Oh, Glenroy. — I'll be punctual. [Exit Plastic, i,. 
 
 Reuh. Now then to seek, and, for the last time, to look 
 on her. [Looks at the j'^ctpur?^ Come, get acquainted here, 
 [Putting it next his heart.] thou contract for Rosalie's 
 happiness — thou warrant for Reuben's death, [Exit, i.. 
 
 Scene II. — An Ajuirt/nrnt iii Glenroifs House. — A 
 Swing-cradle. — Nurse attending. — Mrs. Glenroy, in a 
 plain dress, leaning over the Child. — Ca])tain Glenroy 
 attending. 
 
 " Mrs. G. He sleeps ! Ah, my husband, now we are 
 " awakened from our feverish dream of folly, let it be our 
 " care, by virtuous precept, and more persuasive example, 
 " that the smile of content, which now plays round this 
 " infant's lips, may be continued there in riper yeai's. 
 
 " Capt. G. My sweet monitress. 
 
 " Mrs. G. But don't suppose, my dear, I mean to wage 
 " vulgar war against fashion : 'tis a science, and, like 
 " others, is disgraced by quacks and pretenders. Oh ! to 
 " form a real woman of fashion, the Muses and Graces 
 " must join in sweet alliance with the Virtues. Such a 
 " character, I own, I wish to emulate, and therefore, in 
 " future, instead of always asking others if this or this be 
 " the fashion, I will frequently ask myself if it ought to be. 
 
 " Enter Mrs. Glenroy's Maid, r. 
 
 " Serv. Madam, the young lady Mr. Trot brought here 
 "to-day, is now awake. S\iO seems much refreshed, and 
 " entreats to see you. 
 
 " Mrs. G. I'll wait on her." [Exit Maid. 
 
 Capt. G. 'Tis very mysterious ! Pray, my love, did 
 Miss Somers at all explain ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Dear, interesting girl ! she wished it, but was 
 so agitated and fatigued, that I positively forbade it, till 
 she had taken repose. All I learnt was, she was taken 
 from your father's house by a person of the name of Mait- 
 land. 
 
Scene II J TOWN AND COUNTRY. 63 
 
 Capt. G. Reuben is strongly attached to her. 
 Mrs. Ct. Then pray, now, let me have the pleasure of 
 telling him she's here. 
 
 Enter Reuben and Cosey, l. 
 
 Reub, There, sir, there. ' [Retires up. 
 
 Cosej/. Eh ! egad, this is what i call comfortable! 
 
 Rcub. This is your work — this is your benefactor. 
 
 Coscij. Don't thank mc — my work ! No, no, — I could 
 not have managed it. To be sure, if you had been con- 
 fined, and your health very bad, and the goal very damp, 
 I might, perhaps, have given freedom to your body ; but 
 he has removed the chains of destructive habits, he has 
 given health to your mind — and, dam'me if I don't make 
 London ring — 
 
 Mrs. G. (c.) Dear sir, you'll wake my child ! 
 
 Cosey. I say, what have you called him ? 
 
 Caj^t. G. (r. c.) His name is to be Christopher. 
 
 Cose//. Nay, nay, you're joking. What, my name? 
 Ah! where would be the pleasure of watching the turn 
 of the market, if it was not for thinking, when I'm laid 
 low, that your saucy brats will point to my picture, 
 [TFff/w,] and say that's the jolly old dog that left us all 
 the money. 
 
 Ca]>t. G. Dear sir, far distant be that hour. 
 
 Cosey. [Takes their ha?uh icitli firmness \ Ah, my boy ! 
 settling-day must come to us all. But, if we take care 
 that the balance appears on the side of probity, and warm 
 feeling to our fellow-men, doubt not but our accounts will 
 be passed with errors excepted. But come. Captain, you 
 must with me, to prepare for the city in the morning. 
 You are set on your legs, to be sure ; but we must enable 
 you to w^ag them a bit, and a transfer-receipt is an excel- 
 lent recipe. But zounds ! why do you hang back ? 
 
 C<ipt. G. Sir, 1 have creditors there who — 
 
 Cosey. Pugh ! [Producing pocJcet-hook.\ Here's ammu- 
 nition enough in this old cartridge-box, to blow all the 
 bailiffs to the devil, l^ut why did you go into the city to 
 borrow of the Jews ? 
 
 Capt. G. Because, sir, I found them much more con- 
 scientious than Christian money-lenders. 
 
 Cosey. There, there, Reuben ! you see the city's the 
 
64 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act V. 
 
 place, even if a man wants to be ruined. 
 
 [Exetmt Cosey and Captain Glenroy. 
 
 Mrs. G. [Leaning on Reuben's shouldcr.\ Well, won't 
 you smile ? You shall, though. For know, sir, that to 
 a woman of spirit a debt of gratitude is an irksome feeling. 
 So, I am come to clear off mine by informing you that 
 Miss Somers is in this house. Oh, if you don't believe, 
 I'll soon — [Going. 
 
 Reub. (l. c.) Pray, stay. 
 
 Mrs. G. Will you not see her 1 
 
 Reub. Not immediately. I have taken the freedom, 
 madam, of appointing a gentleman to meet me here. Till 
 he arrives, with your leave I'll retire. These rooms are 
 hot and close — I am used to fresh air. 
 
 Mrs. G. Miss Somers seems to have suffered much. 
 
 Reub. [Smiles.^ Tell her, her sufferings will soon end. 
 
 [Exit, L. 
 
 Enter Rosalie, r. 
 
 Rosa. Pardon, dear madam, this intrusion, but I thought 
 I heard a well-known voice. 
 
 Mrs. G. 'Twas Reuben Glenroy's. 
 
 Rosa. Did he know I was here 1 
 
 Mrs. G. Yes. 
 
 Rosa. Would he not see me 1 
 
 Mrs. G. He certainly declined it. I mentioned your 
 sufferings ; he smiled, and said they would soon end. 
 
 Rosa. Smiled ! Indeed, indeed, Pve not deserved it. 
 
 [ Weeps. 
 
 Mrs. G. Sincerely, I believe you. 
 
 Rosa. But pray let me tell you my sad story, madam, 
 pray do. 
 
 Mrs. G. Were it for the removing of my doubts of your 
 conduct, I should forbid it ; but being to gratify your own 
 delicacy, I entreat it. 
 
 Rosa. Thank you, madam. 
 
 Enter Robert, l. 
 
 Rob. Mr. Plastic, madam. [Exit, l. 
 
 Plas. [ Without.] Very well, I'll wait for him. 
 Rosa. Ah ! [Shrieks. 
 
 Mrs. G. What causes — 
 
Scene If.J TOWN AND COUNTKY. 65 
 
 Rosa. Tis he, 'tis he ! The wretch that tore me from 
 my friends. 
 
 Mrs. G. You must mistake. This is Mr. Plastic. 
 
 Rosa. Whatever be his name, 'tis he, indeed. Oh, save 
 me from him ! 
 
 Mrs. G. You are safe. 
 
 Rosa. I tremble so — pvay allow me to retire. 
 
 Mrs. G. By all means. [Exit Rosalie, r.] So, my hon- 
 ourable lover ! I blush at my levity. 
 
 Enter Plastic, l. 
 
 Plas. (c.) My dear Mrs. Glenroy, I am happy to meet 
 you, to apologize for a seeming inattention. 
 
 Mrs. G. (r. c.) Oh, doubtless, sir, more pleasing avoca- 
 tions — 
 
 Plas. Nay, that's cruel. But you seem disturbed. 
 Won't you favor me with your confidence 1 
 
 Mrs. G. Have you not enough of your own ? 
 
 Plas. I give you my honour — 
 
 Mrs. G. How generous ! having no further occasion 
 for it yourself 
 
 Flas. Come, come, you know I've lost my heart. 
 
 Mrs. G. Advertise it — a small reward will bring it back 
 — particularly, as you may safely add, 'tis of no value but 
 to the owner. 
 
 Plas. Madam, you compel me to be serious. 
 
 Mrs. G. Pm Sony fjr it, as it compels me to be so. 
 You are a villain ! 
 
 Plas. You had better teach your husband that word. 
 
 Mrs. G. Oh, you are not worth a soldier's anger, much 
 less a soldier's sword ; and, in return for the virtuous 
 princi])les you aimed to instil into this thoughtless, but 
 innocent breast, know, sir, that when heaven ordained 
 that chastity should be "the jewel of our souls," it gave 
 for its defenders religion and lu)nour : those sentinels 
 (spite of ray levity) I hope I have cherished, ami can re- 
 port to my beloved commander that the citadel is impreg- 
 nable. Miss Somers, sir — you may well start — she is in 
 that room. 
 
 Plas. Indeed ! Madam, 'tis essential to my hapj)lness 
 that I see Miss Somers immediately. 
 
 Mrs. G. You shall not, sir. 
 
G6 TOWN AND COUNTRY. [Act V. 
 
 Plas. What on earth can prevent me ? 
 
 Mrs. G. Good breeding-. \He hoivs.'\ Who, after this, 
 shall dare to censure polished society, when its laws can 
 chain him down, who would have spurned at all stops of 
 virtue and honour 1 
 
 Enter Reuben, Captain Glenroy, and Cosey, l. 
 
 Capt. G. See, brother, Mr. Plastic is here. 
 ReuJj. Now then, sister, I will ask permission of Miss 
 Somers to address a few words to her. 
 
 Mrs. Glenroy leads in Rosalie, u. 
 
 Madam, y.ou may remember, I vowed to you that mv 
 life should be devoted to the promoting of your happi- 
 ness ; and, though you have been pleased to disregard 
 your promise, I am come to prove that I have not forgot- 
 ten mine. 
 
 Rosa. Reuben ! 
 
 Rcuh. Pray, do not speak. I think, if I do not hear 
 your voice, I shall be better able to discharge this last 
 duty. This letter, madam, which you addressed to me — 
 my heart having got thoroughly acquainted with its con- 
 tents — I have the honour of restoring lo you. 
 
 Rosa. Ah ! not signed ! 
 
 [Casts a looh of indi gnat ion at Plastic. 
 
 Reuh. And in this paper you will find the fulfilment of 
 your hopes, the consummation of your happiness : — and 
 that you may be happy, will be the latest wish this heart 
 can throb with, the last petition my tongue can utter. 
 
 Casey. And, that your joy may be perfect, here are 
 the valuable title-deeds of your estate. I also wish you 
 every — damn it, I can't lie ! 
 
 Rosa. Oh, madam, I shrink from the situation I am 
 placed in. 
 
 Mrs. G. Take courage, my sweet gii'l — your happiness, 
 your innocence, demand its exertion. 
 
 Rosa. P]-ay don't leave me! [Collects herself.] First, 
 this, your letter, Mr. Plastic, the sentiments of which 
 caused a blush while my hand traced them, and from 
 which you have basely withheld your name, I shall retain, 
 to clear my fame with those friends, if any such remai:i, 
 who love me. 
 
ScEJTE I.] TOWN AND COUNTKV. 67 
 
 Cnpt. G. DiJ you hear ? 
 
 Hosa. For this marriage promise, so singular, so un 
 fashionable, the best service I can do will be to class it 
 with the promises you are in the habit of making, by thus 
 rendering it — nothing. [ Tears it.\ These, 1 am told, are 
 of great value — alas ! of none to me, unless Reuben — 
 [Bends to him, presendnff the, decds?\ — Rosalie will never 
 wound the heart that loves her ! 
 
 Reuh. \I}i silence raises her,] She's true — she's true ! 
 [Rushes into her ar7ns.] My life, my soul, my Rosalie ! 
 Sacred be our vows ! eternal our loves ! [Leads her vp, l. 
 
 Co^cy. Huzza ! huzza ! Stocks are up again ! May 
 you ever be as happy as — damn it ! as 1 am now Poor 
 fellow ! 
 
 Mrs. G. Poor, indeed! when I know a certain old 
 jrentlcman who intends makino; him his heir. 
 
 Cosey. And what right have you to suppose that old 
 gentleman such a cursed ninny ! Make him my heir ! 
 What, give him my money, when I can't see him enjoy 
 it? No, not such a fool as that. [To Plastic.] Why, [ 
 say, you seem to be what I call rather lame-duckish ! 
 
 Plas. Pray, don't suppose those accidents can affect 
 my spirits, or shake my reputation. No ! thanks to the 
 liurry, dash, and confusion of St. James's Street, the tale 
 will pass as rapidly as the caiiiagc which cotitains the 
 subject of it. [I^xii Plastic, i,. 
 
 Casey. You are mistaken, Distiction between right 
 and wrong are not yet so confounded. [lia/be/i, Rosalie, 
 Caj/tain Glcnroy, and Blrs. Glenroy adrancc.] Reuben — 
 Rosalie, my sweet girl, accept the blessing of your old 
 guardian, while he llnis consigns you to the arms of a 
 new one. 
 
 Reuh. How shall I thank you for the inestimable gifti 
 
 Capt. G. Or how shall I express my sense of that be- 
 nevolence which has saved me from ruin ; and, aided 
 by a brother's kind admonition, taught me how to value 
 the principles of real honour, and the charms of domestic 
 felicity % • 
 
 Cosey. No more of my benevolence, I beseech yoti. 
 Wc are bound in this life to make each other as hapj)y 
 as we can, and there's an end. 
 
 Rcub. Your goodness, sir, has made u,3 so coiup't-'l-ely 
 
68 TOWN AND COUNTKY 
 
 [Act V 
 
 happy, that our contentmerit can now receive but one in- 
 crease — the overpaying and encouraging reward conferred 
 by the apjjrobation of our indulgent auditors. - 
 
 Cos,cy. Ha ! that would, indeed, make us, what I call 
 comfortable ! 
 
 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF 
 THE CURTAIN. 
 
 Capt. G. Mrs. G. Cosey. Reuben. Rosalie. 
 
 R. L. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 \^-^ 
 
MODERN STANDARD DRAMA, 
 
 Price 12 1-2 Cenis each.— Already published, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 1. lOD. 
 
 2. Fazio ; or, The Italian Wife. 
 
 3. The Lady oC Lyons. 
 
 4. Richelieu ; or, The Conspiracy. 
 
 5. The Wife ; a Tule of Mantua. 
 C. The Honey Moon. 
 
 7. The School for Scandal. 
 
 8. Money. 
 
 WiM a Portrait and Memoir of Mrs. 
 A. C. MOfVATT. 
 
 vol.. II. 
 
 9. The Stranger. 
 
 10. Grandfather Whitehead. 
 
 11. Richard III. 
 
 12. Love's Sacrifice. 
 
 13. The Gamester. 
 
 14. A Cure lor the Heartache. 
 
 15. The Hunchback. 
 
 16. Don Ca-sar De Bazan. 
 
 JVitk a Portrait and Memoir of Mr. 
 CHARLES KEAN. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 17. The Poor Geutleman. 
 If. Hamlet. 
 
 19. Charles II.; or, The Merry Monarch. 
 
 20. Venice Preserved. 
 
 21. Pizarro. 
 
 2i. The Love-Chase. 
 
 23. Othello. 
 
 24. Lend Me Five Shillings. 
 
 With a Portrait aad Memoir of Mr. 
 W. E. BURTON. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 25. Virginius. By J. S. Knowleg. 
 20. Th- King of the Commons. 
 
 27. London Assurance. 
 
 28. The Rent-Day. 
 
 29. Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 30. The Jealous Wife. 
 
 31. The Rivals. 
 
 32. Perfection. 
 
 fVith a Portrait and Memoir ef Mr. 
 J. II. IIJCKETT. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
 n. A New Way to Pay Old Debts, 
 34. Look Bsl'ore You Leap, 
 3j. King John. 
 
 36. The Nervous Man. 
 
 37. Dam on and I'ythiasi. 
 
 .33. TlieClandest'ne Marriage. 
 
 39. VVi Ilium TeP. 
 
 40. The Day After the Wedding. 
 
 ffith a Portrait and Memair of GEO. 
 COL MA. \ the Elder. 
 
 VOL. yi. 
 
 41. Speed the Plough. 
 
 42. Romeo and JulieL 
 4.J. Feudal 'I iineK. 
 
 44. Charles the TwelAh. 
 4.i. The Itridal. 
 46 The Follies of a Night. 
 47. The Iron Chest. 
 
 4tj. Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady. 
 IVith a Portrait and Memoir of Sir E 
 BULh'ER LVTTON. 
 
 VOL. Vll. 
 
 49. Road to Ruin. 
 
 50. Macbeth. 
 
 51. Temper. 
 
 52. Evadne. 
 
 53. Bertram. 
 
 54. Tlie Duenna. 
 
 55. Much Ado About Nothing. 
 
 56. The Critic. 
 
 Wil/i. a Portrait and Memoir efR. B. 
 SHERIDAN. 
 
 VOL. VIII. 
 
 5'. The Apostate. 
 
 58. TwcllUi Night. 
 
 59. Brutus. 
 
 60. SinipjoM &. Co. 
 
 61. Merchant of Venice. 
 
 62. Old Heads and Young Hearts. 
 
 63. Mountaineers. 
 
 64. Three Weeks After Marriage. 
 Ifi'th a Portrait and Memoir of Mr. 
 
 GEO. II. BARRETT. 
 
 VOL. IX. 
 
 65. Love. 
 
 66. As Ynu Like It. 
 
 67. The Elder Broilier. 
 
 68. Werner. 
 60. Gi!ii|>pus. 
 
 70. Town and Country. 
 
 71. King Lear. 
 
 72. Blue Devils. 
 
 H'llfi a Portrait and Memoir of Mrt. 
 SUA IK 
 
 VOL. X. 
 
 73. Henry VIII. 
 
 74. Married and Single. 
 ':>. Ilenrv IV. ^ 
 
 76. Paul Pry. 
 
 77. Guy Mamiering. 
 
 78. Sweethearts and Wives. 
 
 t^" On a Remittance of One DoUnr, free of pnat.ifre, Ten copies of 
 any of the pluys will be sent l>y mull. 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 li«* 
 
 rSM WiM ■■■■■■■«l 
 
 ^ 014 528 472 7 # 
 
 Uniform with the " Modern Standard Drama." 
 
 With the view of giving completeness to their design of supplying 
 the public with all the best di-atiiatic works that keep possesBion of 
 the stage, iho publislier of the " Motlerii Standard Drama" liave com- 
 menced the " MINOK DRAMA/' in wliicU series will be embraced 
 all those Minor'Stock I'ieces, Farces, Vaudevilles, and Burleltas, which 
 could not properly be classed under the Cormer title. 
 
 The " Minor Drama " will be printed uniform with the " Modern 
 Standard Drama," and every number will be embellished with a 
 spirited Kngraving, ilkistrative of some piominent scene. All the old 
 stock after-pieces, together with all new ones of decided merit, will 
 be embraced in this subsidiary series, and issued from the press in 
 rapid succession. 
 
 The following have bcRn already published : 
 
 1. THE IRISH ATTORNEY. 
 
 2. BOOTS AT TllK SWAN. 
 
 3. HOW TO PAY THK RENT. 
 
 4. TllR LOAN OF A LOVER. 
 
 I 5. THE DEAD SHOT. 
 
 6. HIS LAST Lr:GS. 
 
 7. The INVISIBLE PRINCE. 
 
 8. The GOLDEN FARMER. 
 
 With a Portrait and Memoir of MR. JOHN SEFTON. 
 
 3. The Pride of the Market. 
 
 10. Used Up. 
 
 11. The Irish Tutor. 
 
 12. The Barrack Room. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 113. Luke the Labourer. 
 
 14. Beauty and the Beast. 
 
 I 15. St. Patrick's l-:ve. 
 
 I 16 Captain of the Watch. 
 
 With a Portrait and Memoir of MISS C. WEMYSS. 
 
 17. The Secret. 
 
 18. Wliite Horse of the Peppers 
 
 19. The Jacobite. 
 
 20. The Bottle 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 2 1 . Box and Cox. 
 
 22. Bamboozling. 
 
 23. Widow's Victim. 
 
 24. Robert Macaire. 
 
 With a Portrait and Memoir of MR. F. S. CHANFRAU. 
 
 2.5. Secret Service. 
 26. Ouniibiis, 
 27- Irish Lion. 
 28. Maid of Croissey. 
 
 '??. The Old Guard. 
 
 30. Raising the Wind.] 
 
 31. Slasher and Crasher. 
 .32. Naval Engagements. 
 
 With u Portrait and Memoir of MISS ROSE. TELBIN 
 Price 12 1-2 Cents each 
 
 M. DOUGLAS, 11 Spruce St., N.^Y. 
 
 ^^ On a Remittance of One Dollar, free of postage, Ten copies 
 of any of the plays will be sent by mail.