fl: 0BOSTON14 ~ - - 9.a WILLIA1M V. SPENII ER, \I 9i V12 ASlIINGT.*N, CORLNER WA.TER, ST., 128 WASHIINGTON, CONE NEW YORK: SAMUEL FRENCH, 121 NASSALT STREET, B " J. PERRY, 384 BR.OADWAY. A. INC:H, 116 CHESNiT St., Phila. T. B PETE'SOTO-' Chesnut St., lila-elphia. I Ji 1 \ l. ___ _.- J iA W,y P 12 1'L centi A 1 1 ^iiTj wi i-7 11 I 1U FI'rice 12 1-2 cents. u CATALOGUE OF PLAYS FOil SALE BY WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 128 WASHINGTON STREET, COr. OF WATER STREET, BOSTON. Price 12 1-2 cents each. Sent free of postage to any part of the United States Anthony & Cleopatra (Civilization Game of Love Aggravating Sam Chimney Piece Good Night's Rest Adopted Child Capt. of the Watch Garrick Fever' he Aladdin Cocknies in California Gissippus Agnes de Vere Cherry and Fair Star Golden Farmer Apostate Curfew The Hamlet As You Like It David Copperfield Hunchback The All that Glitters Drama at Home Haymarket Spring MeetAbon Hassan Dumb Girl of Genoa ing Avalanche Dream at Sea Honeymoon The Aladdin Delusion The Heir at Law All in the Dark Dumb Belle The How to pay'the Rent Anatomist D.af as a Post His last Legs Agreeable Surprise Dead Shot High life below Stairs All for Love Don Ceasar de Bazan High, low, Jack and the Bryan O'Linn Day after the Wedding Game Betsy Baker Drunkard The Heads or Tails Bachelor's Bedroom Duenna The Happy Man Black-Eyed Susan Delicate Ground Highland Reel Bamboozling Damon and Pythias Htgh Life below Stairs Barrack Room Douglas Helping Hands Blue Devils Devil to Pay Ieart of Mid Lothian Born to good Luck Double Bedded Room Idiot Witness Box and Cox Day in Paris Irish Assurance Box and Cox Married Did you ever send your Ingomlar and Settled Wife, &c Ion Brutus IDombey & Son Irish Ambassador Bombastes Furioso Ernestine " Attorney Bottle The Eton Boy The Lion Boots at the Swan Evadne Tutor Borrowed Feathers Elder Brother Iron Chest Black-Eyed Sukey i lla Rosenburg Invisible Prince Bona Fide Travellers Fireman The Is he Jealous Bridal The Forty Thieves Ireland as itis Bertram First of April John Di Procida Beauty and the Beast Fortress of Sorrento Jenny Lind Bloomer Costume From Village to Court John Bull Begone dull Care Fish out of Water Jack Sheppard Brazen Drum,False and Constant Jealous Wife I he Brother and Sister Falls of Clyde Jacobite The Ben Bolt Forest Rose The Julius Cesar Breach of Promise First Night'; Jane Shore Bottle Imp First Printer lJohn Jones Black Beard. Flying Dutchman King lear Blind Bargain. Faszio " John Brigand The Follies of a Night "i Henry IV Brian Boroihme. Forest of Bondy " " VIII Bee Hive Fa;nt Heart Kiss in the Dark Carpenter of Rouen Feudal Times King of the Commons Courier of Lyons Fl,iating Beacon Katharine and Petrucio Comfortable Service Flight to America King's Rival Camille. tGood Run for it. Kill or Cure Clock Makers Hat iThe Game of Romps!Lestoque Comedy of Errors Game of Life Lo Zingaro Clari Guttle and Gulpit Luke Somerton Charles II Gamester The Lottery Ticket c, XII- Geo. Barnwell,imerick Boy The Clandestine Marriage (Grandfather Whitehead La To ur de Nesle Corsican Brothers Guy Mannering Ladies Beware Cure for the Heartache Grimshaw, Bagshaw and Leap Year The Care for Love Bradshaw Lawyers The Catspaw TLhe Go to bed Tom Lend me five Shillings Critic The (Good for Nothing Lady of the Lake ITen of the;abovefor One Dollar. I~PrCEs )OTO Tf EATt..... c*0 M MXV 0R TiE A) OF, 0MiLAN m,~ n~ra, Ids* BY JOHN iOAtARD PAYNE, ESQ., ~XTiTHGR OF B3RUTUTS T THE LANCOERSiS LOVE IN HUMBJIBLE LIFE TH-ERE SE; CHARitES THE SECONND; ETCo tith ~aEts of Chaaacte~sg, Scene and. ropetty' Bli! C'sciStmes, aai all the Stage -Businese. AND A MEMOIR OF W. H. (SEDLEY) SMITH,'HE PRESENT STAGE MANAGER OF THFE BOSTON EMTYSEUL BOSTON: W~I LtI-M VI SPfT a QE_ 128 Washiagton Street, corner of Water. 1856. CA- ST O' CoE:A-RA. T Trmnot, oston, 183 Arch St. Pi Trmont, B3sto 1835. Tremoont 0ost 183. oton, 3.1 BOLA VVAI -., - - Mr. Woodhuil, Mr. J. ME. Lurdoch, Mr. WV,,[. Leman, Mr. CMuzzy, Mr W E XC Joo - - - W. H. S]ith, 7o' J Robotha,. J.G. Gilbert, J. oCLAUDIO - - - ^ -.^_ " T. Comer, X " W.alton, Cor. Coml.er, II n _CIO.- - _ Richardson, " Aslhcroft, " B.L. Benson,. B A dms _ XV_ _ 6; W. F. Johnson' " HisatLwoell, " W F.' Johnson, c E. L Davenp cc W G-rnii, Nicowos. J.- - - I Adains, Waihi, J), Whitongr,. D..)Thi n"g, S.. F.Johhsonsn - -' - ". Salton, - " Ellerle, r. Le`is,V,... _.' J.::.kams - " Watsono rs n T~t.CLA. - ----- _ liss Vincent, Iiss Vatson, M irs. Wood, MM. FIDALAIA. - 11,1, s. HuIl-hes, ] rs. Thayel. II. Iewisu Philips V __SP INA. - - H. BarrettLg " owlbothalnI, "G. R. Bairett, iss A s W L Sit, - _- - Miss AMloBride.,' Walstein. Miss. MlcBride.o- McBride. MissWastaff. CHARA T UErS I N THE EPISODE. N ^OLEM:AN. - - - MIr. D. Sarzedas,. Ir. WValstein, Mr. Rice, r. Powll,. ph PioaN^0_. - - - " Colinbourn, Iale, D Srzedas, P. C h IF Of PELOI. - MTrs. Campbeli,', Miss Armstrong, MNrs. Campbell, A T Clor, LhE ___:ODA.______. ~ 1_Miss Eberle.'is.rs. Condi t issKerr. MissBo t National, Bosto, 18). Arch Stoot Phil. 185i. Pittsliurgl55. National, N,1. Boston li, 185. PROLE Vr-'ALDi. - " r. Coie~l, MrW b' o ~h S Dubos M? r. F'. Anon, r~ J. Tilson Jr. RLoAoo. - - - - - BW H Je'm P. C. Coonsi-ng, P C Cursngom D. Oaklet, E. L. Davenpispt,. JCOOA i. - - - C - G' Spor, P S. ar A. V.Yoing-, G. L. Fox,, EF.Keac h NCOLAInO. - A — R I fooe~'~ V-. Grrai, W. Chapi-can, NiOO. -. - -- B. Wilan N a. Sten, C. Mcilloen T J030, Ni:unso. S.- D.3 Join,,. Ca lladingx Caliodpn,) F. Whitman. Nio^isiios. - -- - S P Jo^s^n,; " Vsnsg, J. Nun —an,' T. H-ipton,' J. H. B-in -~rkTr ~ - s essr1~imnic. 0 Miss L. Cantor.1 Wilton. Miss FreOlris -I AP, A C T ER I THE EPISODE, No EL. ~ -.G L. Aen Mr Fannin,. sr. H. Whalley, Mri G.Aiken, $. M H..asooL. ~ J.Pelby3 M V Howard, M-ss, J. TI.PCook, MisPir,' IT Folt COSTUME S Dukee.-RTich white kerseymere shape-trunks, with slashes, trimmed'with silver-rich velvet cloak-white pantaloonswhite shoes and rosettes —full ruff, etc. Rolamo.-Long drab frock, with dark binding-full trunks of thie same color-stockings, ditto-russett shoes-large white collar-large slouch hat. Jocoso.-Light blue jerkin, trimmed with silver-light vest -breeches of same color of jerkin, trimmed with pink-white stockings, shoes, and rosettes. Geronio.-Light brown suit and cloak-brown trunks-blue stockings-russet shoes. Nimpeclo. —Long white coat, open-white vest-full white trunk breeches-light blue stockings-white shoes-rosettes. Page, —Dress similar to Jocoso's. Servants.-Orange colored liveries, trimmied with silver..Nobleman.- Rich shape-cloak-hat and feathers-sworoc Pelgrino.-Brown dress, with puffs-larg6 slouch hat. Clari.-First dress:. Complete white morning dress of muslin, frilled. Second dress: Rich white satin train dress, richly embroidered with gold.-white satin shoes. Third dress: White body-gray petticoa-t, trimmed with blackvelvet-light gray stockings, with clocks-black.shoes. Vespina. -White body, trimmed with red —white skirt, istriped with red-white stockings-red shoes-her head trimmed with roses, etc. Wife.-Dark village dress-white'handkerchief-gepsy hat 2nd cap~ Fidcilma.-RAsd and white turban head-dress, yellow gauze scarf appended from it-white body-drab skirt, trimmed with black and yellow. Nrinetta.-White muslin dress, trimmed with white riband. Leoda.~-White body-pink skirt, trimmed1 with brown-dark ACT 1st. SGE2iN T.-Paper, 3 door chamber,. 3 G.-co. doora —curtis. -Balus!-radee x —Backed with street, 4 G.-Set door, R. 2d, E. SCENE 2.-Paper, 2 loor I G. SCENE.-~Village 5 GL —green dropa im 3.-Set cottag belind green diop i. Ho. D2 OPo. ACT 2do. SbENE 1.-Paper, 2 door chamber I G. SCENE 2,-Paper, 3 door chamber 3:.-Same aa Act l'st: Scene lo. Di OP.. ACT 3d. SCENE I. — andscape scene I G. SCENE 2.-WooCds 5 G.-Set cottage n. 3d, ~.-Set summeT house R. 3d, E.-Bridge crosses 4 andc foregrounLd.-Set roci plece R. and Lo r. E.~Set raking piece b. -r. E.-Step's beJ.-Rd,. U, E,-Cottage,- R —t fence with gate c. across 4. CUiP,TA1.Y PROPERTIES. ACT 1st. S.-EHandsome toilette table and glass, large miror L. a-~4 chairs R. and L.-2 band-boxes, one containing bonnet and scarf to be taken out.-Lace boxes and casket discovered on -~Miniature for Duke,-Plain village dress and cabinet ook ready, IR 2d E.-Small table with portfolio of drwing and drawing materials L. H. CENE 2d.-Blank Paper for Geronio. SCENE 3d.-White wand for Jocoso.-2 small gothic chairs L, in.-Blank papers for Page.-~Spinning weeel..-Stool, rose bushes near cottage L, H. -fbehind curtain] small water pot for LeoQda. QUICK CUR TA IN. ACT 2d. SCEBNE 2d-Same as Act lst, Scene 1st-Lighted candles oi table ac. H.-Blank letter and casket for Clari-Scarf for Clari. -Lighted candle and torcheJs ready for Jocoso, and servants eady L. H. st E. QUICK CU7TAIN. ACT 3M. SCEnE 2d.-T&ble and chairs-Breakfast things for Fidaln^ -iumn and purse for Rolamo.. SiTLOW CURTA.M 3MEMOIR OF WILLIAM IL. (SEBLEY) SA III THE PEESENT STACGE MIANAGE., OF THE BOSTON MUSEUSM' Written for Spencer's Bostor TheatreIt is a somewhat singular fact that what, with the number of theatricl works published in this country, within the past ten years, the hosts of crit ics, authors, etc., who are ever ready to wield their pens in such sphere and the great reputation which has always attended the performances of W, H. Smith, no. memoir or biographical sketch has ever been written of is eventful career, and yet, there hIave been few men upon the American stage whose lives have been more marked bychange and adventurse. Early throwv upon his own resources far suppo t, withou~t any assistance from influential jriends, and pooe in purse as he was young in years, his present position and. his sterling reputation are striking illustrations of what energy, estimating and availing itself.of the true value of time, can acieomplish even under the most adv erse circumstances. W. II. Sedley, was born in North Waleg, we think about the year 1806, and left his home an mree lad of fourteen years, to fight his own way in the woyld, before study or experience could have given him even a faint idea of what troubles, dangers, and temptations that world contained. Assuming the enae of Sith from a de$'e to pr.esrve inviolat, the family appellation, he applied to Mr. Crisp, then m-nanager of the theatre at Shrewsbury (England) for the situation of " Call Boy," and was accepted. Noticing a certain amount of ambition apd a degree of interest in his business manifested by nis new auxiliary, Manager Crisp gave him occasionally some little character. to personate, until almost imperceptibly the novice found himself numberedk\?s coe of the actors of the Company. Mis first regulsr engagement w^,s t MEMOIR OF WILLIAM H. SMITH. 7 (he Theatre Royal, Lancaster, as vwalking gentleman,. in 1822. In 1824, still Advancing-, for to him. the'lexicon of youth!" haod no difficult word; he as~ ed the onerous position of Light Comedian and Juvenile Tragedian at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, with Edward Seymour, [sq., as mauager. His success here was uneiquivocal, and so rapidly did he obtain popularity in thbe profession, that in 1827 we find him playing the following "(Star' - engagements: a month at Rochdale, a fortnight at Nottingham, and a fortnight at Derby. At this time he received a liberal offer from lMessrs. Simpson and Cowell, and May 16, 1827, he sailed for America, engaged to play at the Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington theatres. He opened at the Walnut St, theatre as Diddler in "Raising the dind," and as Lothair in the Miller and his Men, and at once became a favorite with the public, the managers and with the members of his Tprofession. So highly were his abilities and talents valued by Mr. Cowell, that in four weeks from his arrival in America, he wis ppointed by that gentleman as stage manager, and performed the arduous duties of that situation in the three theatres for which he had originally been engaged simply as an actor. Breaking his connections with Mr. Cowell at the close of the season, Mr. Smith opened at the Tremont Theatre, Boston, at the commencement of the season 1828, as Rolando, in the Honeymoon, and became here as elsewhere a great favorite, playing the Light Comedy and the Juvenile Tragedy-two lines or rather.departments of the profession foF which he was eminently fitted, both by nature and study. In the year 1829 Mr Smith assumed the duties of Stage Manager of the Tremont; and remained tt this theatre (a particular favorite with the public) until the season ot 1836 itnd'37 when he was engaged by Mr. Pelby as Stage MIanager for the National theatre in this oity, and for two seasons performed tbe requisite duties of that situation with entire satisfaction. Satisfied withs his position in the profession and the public, and determined to settle himself permanently in this city, in 1829 Mr, Smith united himself with the Boston Fire Companies, Rnd continued an active member of that department for over, ten years, and Is at the present time (1856) a member of the Veteran association. In a professional point of view, this period may be considered is the brightest of his life, for, from the meanest iank in his sphere of action he had risen to the highest; from boyhood and poverty, with no friendly aid or counsel to assist him in the dark and lonely struggle, he had passed on with time, to manhood and to fame. "Welcome on the ffboardsy' as an actor of talent and refinement, he was equally well received in society as one who boasted of a brilliant conversation and a refined intelligence. In 1840 Mr. Smith returned to Philadelphia, and for a time was iganager with William Dinneford, of the Arclh Street theatre, In 1842 Mir. Hsloses Kin'ball having made arrangements to devote a portion of what is now termed the OLD Museum, (on the corner of Brosfdeld and Tremont Streets,) to dramatic representations, selected Mr. Smith as his Stage 4anager, and in this year he returned to Boston to Dieet with a hearty reception* from a public with vwhom he had ever been popular. For over thirteen years ihas Mr. Smith hield this position, to the entire satisfaction of his employer and the patrons of the Museum, and we tyust he will remain until his final departure from the profession, for certain. ly the position and the man are congenial. As an actor Mr. Smith has, ~rohitily; fsw equpjs e3W upon the et ge and No superiors; ie as lPalnis'el 8 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM H. SMITH. he is, undoubtedly the best in this Gountry, bringing to those onerous duties a long and tried experienoe, a calmr judgment and a just appreciation of ihatwill best adorn the drama, and prove acceptable to his patrons. The writer of this sketch has had a fair opportunity of judging his abilities and qualifications to please either ip private or public life, and has ever found, him as pleasing in the one as experienced io tbhe other. VHe is a self educated man and beasts of iany aocomplishments not usually found in one person) or instance, he is a good musician, and at one time was celebrated as an excellent flutist, is a iaster of fencing, a fine sparrer, and was, in former years, a excellent singer and dancer he is well versed in history and well yead in the English classios. We have often wished, that A[r. Smith, like Lood, Cowell, Wemyss nnd others, would Qne day give to the world his experiences as actor and mnanager, enriching the reminisenoes with tho paany anecdotes of pelebrated persons' and the profession with which we lenow, from personal experience, his rare memory is storedi such a work we feel confident would meet with a ready sale, and would am.ply repay him for thi labor. In his later ye rs Mr. Smith has assuimed the duties of a teacher in his 0noble artu and has now two pupils upon the stage, of whoQ the world ppeaks fairly. Tn closing this brief sketeb, we cannotbut express the opinion that in it there may be found the highest inspiration an ambitious mind can seek for', for here we see that fortune may be reached by the poor'%s by the yieb, and that from lowliness Pnd poverty may be mould d a higla position lid Pi honQsW^le unp,c CLAIS SCENE 1.-A magnificent apartment, an elegant toilette, and a cabinet, R.-~A full length swing glass, and a sofa, L.- A large French window, through which the distant country is seen, c. F. —A balcony, overhanging the road, appears outside-A door, R., opening. into the bed-room of Glari.-And a door L., the general entrance to the Apartment-Two male and two female servants discovered, L. arranging band-boxes, cases, caskets, etc., containing millinery, ornaments, and various presents. [Enter Vespinla,] I. D. Ves. [Looking at the boxes.] Where do these boxes come from? Girl. From Paris. Yes. From Paris! to whose address? Girl. The Lady Clari's. Ves. The Lady Clari's! Go. get you gone! [Exeunt servants L. D.] It is really quite provoking! to see all this fuss made about a-nobody knows whom-for nobody knows why. The Lady Clari, indeed!-a fine lady, no doubt! I wonder what the Duke sees in her, to be fond of!-a little country chit, that does nothing but whimper and whine. I am sure, [Looking in the glass,] there are many prettier faces, if people had but a little taste! Well, they say some folks are luckier than some folks. [Looking at the band-boxes] It is very tempting to be left alone with all this finery. I'll just peep, and see if she be stirring yet. [ Goes to the bed-room door, R. pushes it lightly, and 10 CLARI. returns on tiptoe.]j No; fast enough. I will have a look. [ Opens the band-boxes and stands looking in great delight. Oh, what beauties! [Takes a bonnet out of one] There! [Pts it on] Who'll say now that'tisn't fine feathers that make ie birds? [imic7cing] How is your ladyship to-day? I hope your ladyship is very well.-Indeed, I am sure you must be, for you look charmingly! [ Untying the bonnet.] But, I must part "vith it. [Taking it off. Yes, yonaughty, provoking, beautiful bonnet, you must go! There! there! there! -Getaway with you, since I must give you up, —get you gone! get you gone! [Petulantly thrusting the bonnet away into the band-box.] Enter Jocoso unobserved, L. iVes. Oh, this beautiful lace scarf! Why it sets as if it was made for me. I see all the lords dying for love of me, and all the ladies for envy: I see- [Jocoso creeps softly up to her, and thrusts his head over her shoulder, as she is admiring herself in the glass.] Joc. (Calling out, in a gruff voice,) B-r-r-r-roo Ves. (Shrieks, throws off the scasf, and turning, sees Jocose.) How could you scare one so? You're an impudent, ill-atured good-for-nothing booby! that you are. Joc. Lord bless you!-One would have thought we were already man and wife, by your being in such a flus eration at my coming in when you didn't expect me. Yes. Sir, let me tell you, man and wife, or not man and wife, you should never come into my presence without first knocking at the door. Joc. That's a good one. What! and so let a gallant have time to get up the chimney, or out of the window! 1'faith, for aught I know, there's somebody here as it is, for I think I heard you talking before I came in (x to R.) But I'll ferret him out, I warrant. Ves. (Stopping him.) What! at your old suspicions again. Joe. Come, now you're a good girl, I'll tell you some news. Oh! such racketing times as these are! What do you think we re going to have to-day!-Now only guess. -es. How should I guess? Not another concert,,1 hope? I'm tired to death with the one we had last night. * e fec. (R) 0, no; not the same thing every day. That's a horse-in-a-mill sort of life. Even the sunshine of that pretty face of yours might grow insipid, but for the storms that come once or twice every four-and-twenty hours, to give a zest to it. No, no: clear variety for me! Open (Pointing to her eyes.) those Cupid's quivers of yours, and wonder. -We're to have a play. Fes. (L) Bless me! a play? CLAt, 11i. A play, sweetheart! This is our new mistress, thd Lady Claris birth-day. ies. TJmph! so I heard. Joe. There's a set of actors just dropped here, from tho clouds; I chanced to know the imanager, and spoke about him to the Duke, who has left the arrangements all to me; so I am to —-- Yes. Manage the manager; JToe. Ah, girl-higher folks than we get on by that. YouI don't know yet half what I can do to amnuse. Ves. Not much, if I am to judge from what I do know. J'c. My talents have had no chance. You'll see how the Lady.(lari Ves, Oh, -the Lady Glari! the Lady Clari! I'm sick of the very nameI I'\ve a great -mind to leave the Duke's servide, that I have! bringing us all the way firom Milan to wait on a - foe. Hollo! Hollo!'Ves. Well, Jocoso, I'm sure She's no better than she should Joe. That's the case with most of us, I'm afraid, in this Mes' Is the Duke married to her? -:-IsWer me that; You can't, you can't, Jocoso. And what'business has she to live here in State, like a duchess, if she isn't a duchess? Joe. How can she help herself? Hasn't the duke given particular orders that she is never to be suffered to pass the bound~ries of the park, or garden of the Casino, in the day time? And are not the doore locked and glarded at night, as if she was a state prisoner? She doesn't like to live here, that's plain enough to be seen, I'm sure? and that she's innocent, I could be sworn, or I nevel saw any one look so like it in my life. As to fine clothes if his grace won't give her any plain ones, what's she to do then? You'd have her we a some sort, I presume? Ves. Lord, Jocoso. Joe. Between you and I, it's my opinion the Duke has enticed her here under false pretences; and I pity the poor girl from my soul. Ves. And I'm sure so do I, if that is the case4 / Joe. At any rate Vespina, let's be charitable enough to think so, till we have some strong proof to the contrary. Im glad these actors have arrived. They will, perhaps, dissipate ter melancholy. Ves. She never saw a play ifs her lifet I've heard her say so0 Joe. So much the better; how pleased she'll be. Fes. Hush! here comes his lordship. Efnter the DAMe Vivaldi, L. D. Duke; (To Yes.) Is your mistress yet awake? tes I'lil run aiic see, my lofd. [Exit in bed-room, fi. i. 2 iDuke. (aside) Why splendid slavery df rank? why must iffec.lion be thy victim? The peasant mates him where his heart directs, and to his lowly bride brings happiness; his lord must fret, chaiied to. some high born fool, or either pine iii vain for humble loveliness, or make its hinocence, a martyr t0 his choice. (After a moment's pause,) I wsas hot formed for a betrayer — wed -l cannot cease to love. Rs'enter ftespina, R. I. 2 E. TVes (domes down ) My lady is ip, and has just finished dressing, my loiwd. Duk7ce. Vespina, does she appear happy whien alone? VFs. Not-no t very, my lord. Her eyes slJarkle when ever she speaks of you of hears you named; but then, immediately afterwards, a cloud Seems to pass over her Spirits, and she'll set her down and weep) so bitterly, my lord, Duke. Indeed! (Calling aloud.) Jocoso? Joe. (Running down,) Your grace. Duke. (c. Pointing to Fes.) I thifik I've heard that you are fond of this girl Joc. (L. c.) Bless her! my lord, though I say it ti her face, she is the very apple of my eye. I never go to bed without dreaming of her. Ves. ( R ) And never get up without quarrelling with hero Joc. Ah, lovers' quarrels, my lord,-only lovers' quarrels, my lord. Duke. Well, yOu shall be happy. Watch your young mistress closely, Vespina. Try every mheans you can devise to -divert these fits of melancholy. Never let her be alone. You and Josoco shall have a handsbme dowry and be man and wifeo [x. to o Joc. (L.) Shall we my lord? (To Ves.) Why don't you kneel down) ybu jade, and thank his grace for makiiig a woman of you? Duke. (R. Taking a miniature from his bosom, and laying it on the toilet of Claris) Vesiina, do not hamb this to your mistress, IX to C. Ves. No, my lod, (Aside.) That's his miniaturie, and done to surprise her. Oh, what.asthing it is to have a well bred lover! Jocoso never surprises me —never! Duke. She cbmes i Jocoso, follow meO [Exeunt Duke and Jocoso L. D.-Jocoso in going, attepTts to fcisi Vespina's'hand, who slaps him on thte cheek) and exit R. D.] LAai 1i3 7nter Clani, R D, —she seem3 fatigued and melancholy ONm. —Clri,'Mid pleasuris and palaces, though we may roani, jBe it ever so humble, there's no place like home, A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, Whilch, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewlhern H ome, sweet home! There's no place like home, An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain! Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again! The birds singing gaily that cafii3 at my call,(Give nie them, with the peace of mind dearer than a.11 Home, sweet home! Thbre's no place like homb Re-enter Yespina, t. b. Ves. (it.) Bless ie, nma am, if I inight be so bold, what a pretty song that was, and how prettily you salig it, ma'amWhere might you have learnt that song, ma'am, if I might'be so bold? Clari. (R ) Where I learned other lessons, I ought nejer to have forgotten. It is the song of my native village-the hymn of the lowly heart, which dwells upon every lip there, andc like a spell word, brings back to its home the affection which O'er has been betrayed to wander from it. It is the first inusic heard by infancy in its cradle, and our cottagers, blending it with all their earliest and tenderest recollections, never cease to feel it's magic, till they cease to live. Ves. How natural that i's! Just like me;- my nurse usol to hush me to sleep with a song, which I have never heard since Without nodding. Clari. Said you not the duke was inquiring for me. Ves. Tie's but this moment gone, Miss; but see what lovely things he has left for you. Clari. (Looking at them as Yes. di.salcs them) Yes, beautiful indeed! (Szuddenly becomes thoughtfult, and speaks apart.) But can these, can these baubles make ine happy? Ah, nevert the heart that's ill at ease is made mole wretched by the splendor which laughs, in awful mockery, around its dreariness. (She seems embarrassed by the presence of Ves., and seeks a pretext for getting rid of her.) Vespina? Ves. My lady. Clari. I-I-pray go and bring me the book I was reading yesterday. Ves. (Aside.) This is only her excuse to get rid of me. (Aloud.) I'm going, ma'amb (Aside.) I should like to know C cLALt. the reason. She'll not get me off for long, tliough. (Aloudz. Yes, ma'm, m m goino. [Exit ye.., R. D.- Clari, nuch agitated goes to the cabinet, i. (tcnd takes ozt a plain villag e dress-she places it on a chair, a. fixes her eye on it intently, and sobs heavily. Clarc. Escape, n nono;-I can brave the shocks of fate, but not a father's eye; to expose myself to his wrath-no, no mny heait's not striong enough for that. lRe-enter Vespina with cc boo.7, mB Yes. Here,'tis, ma'am. — Lord bless me! (Seeing the tillage tlress in the chair.) What's this dress doing here? (Cactchiny ii utp.) Who could have put such trumpery in the way? [ Tossing it aside. C lari. (Springiyg forward eemlphatically.) Give it back That -lumnble dress was mine-I cast it off! The splendor that eiplaeed it was bought with agony! —Oh, my forsaken parents! i:Conrelhitheer Vespina; I have no one here of my own se' tio talk t-d' o one to listen to my sorrows:-IVes. Pr'y, pray speak freely to me. Though humble, you'll not find me. iinsincere. C-lari. Vesp iia, if you knew what a home, and what paren-ts I had left, you'd pity me. V:c-s?. I do pity you-I do. Better days will come; —youll1 B3 as happy as when you left them. Clari. I did not mean to leave them. The duke came often, and saw me as if by chance.'Twas my first secret from my father and my mother-'twas a fatal one I He promised marriage —tlfat if I would follow him, the moment we arrived at this Casino, the sacred rite should be performed, and that he would return with and present me to my delighted parents as his bride. Some spell, some horid spell was over me! —remember the last look of the smoke curling over our ancient trees. —(er voice is chokled wcith eeotion) I've no further recollection-I found myself here. The duke renewed his promise. Day has followed cay-still, still he promises, but he has not kept his word. Yes. (Confidently.) Bo of good cheer, madam; he will keep it. Clari. Will he?-Nw, don't trifle with me —tell me the worst at once. Better is present death, than hope deferred, still lingering on, still doomed to be deceived. Tes. 3My dear young mistress, there's plenty of time before you to talk of dying; and, as a proof that the duke don't mean to deceive yocu, look here. (Brineging the poortrait.) On a chambermaid's penetration, this is nothing more or less than an earnest of the original. CLARI. 1 Clari. (Tkicing it with transport, stands awzile with her eyes rivetted on it.) Ah! precious to the fond one is the semblance of the object held most dear!'Tis the enchanter's wand, which gathers around it, in a magic circle, sweet recollections and feelings, which make memory a paradise! No, no! treachery could never dwell in such a face! I'll trust him still! —He cannot mean me false. Ves. (Pointing to the village dress.) Shall I put away this dress, ma'am? I'm sure the duke would be hurt to see it here. Clari. Yes: take it away, Vespina, take it away: I would not for the world do anything to make him uneasy. [Exit Ves., with the dress, i. Enter the Duke, L. D. Clari. (Advancing to meet him.) Ah, sir! why overwhelm me with gifts like these? —My humble habits shriink from such magnificence. This-(Pointing to the miniateee.) is the only one I prize! the herald of a gift to follow, which shall restore ie to my friends, my self-esteem, ml poor heartbroken parents. Duke. (. Endeavoring to hide his embarrassment.) This is your birth-day, Clari. tari.(. ( Startizng anld petrified.) Indeed! that word tears my wounds open! Oh, what a day this was! Our little cottage was one smile of gladness! The sacred halo of a parent's blessing descended on me with the morning's sun; and oven my birds, my flowers, my young companions, all seemed to wear a livelier look, and lift their heads rejoicing. [ Weeps. Duke. Nay, Clari, cheer thee love!-banish that woe, discard that dread: rely upon my promise. Clacri. Heaven's smile repay that word! The weight which pressed me to the earth's removed, and all around breathes ecstacy. Duke. Go, dearest Clari; go put on your richest dress, to celebrate the day. Clari. (With enthusiasm.) Which gives me back to honor. It shall be done, my lord. (Exit Duke, L.) Once more a cheering hope brings consolation to my heart, and assures me of future happiness and-joy. [-zEit. R. D. 16 CLARI. SCENE II.- Another apartment in the Palace. Voices. (Without, L. laughing.) Ha! ha! ha! Enter Vespina, L. running. Ves. (Calling.) Jocoso, Jocoso! Enter Jocoso, R. Joe. Well, what now? Lord bless you, can't you be happy a minute without me? Ves. (L. ) Oh, Jocoso, what's to be cone!-I can't get the strolling actors, that are to do the play you engaged them for, to stir from the table! I wish we hadn't given them their dinner till the play was over. Joe. (R.)'Twould have been the safer way; a dinner's quite an event to these fellows. Geronio. (Without. L.). Huzza! huzza! huzza! Yes. How now! what's this? Joe. (Crossing to L. and looking out.) As I hope to be a grand-'father, one of the troop drunk! Run, Vespina, and mind the company, while I see to the actors. [Exit Yes. n. Enter Geronio, intoxicated, L. Ger. (Staggering.) Huzza! huzza! the duke's a glorious duke! I'll stand up for the duke. Joe. (c. ) That's more than you can do for yourself I think. Ger. (L.) What's that you say? Don't say a word against the duke.-I'll dine with him seven weeks in a day.,Joc. What's to be done? As I live it's the actor for the prologue, in this state! If it were in a theatre, it would be of no consegquence, for nobody ever comes in time for a prologue there.'-' But at a private representation -2... egr. Don't be alarmed-I'm perfect to a letter,-you see if I:n't. Here take you the manuscript, and hear me-you'll see how glib I'll get on. Joe. Well, why don't you begin? Ger. Only you give me the first line, you know. TJoc. Very well. (Takes the nzanuscript.) Come-(Reading) "When first the drama's sire"-Heyday! what a confounded:ifg prologue it must be, to begin so far back. You don't mfean to give us a history of the stage, do you?.Ger. Be quiet you put me out (Reciting) "When first the drama's sire his course begun"Joc. (Imitating himn.) He little dreamed of fathering such a son. Cer. There's nothing like that in it. Give me the prologue, and I'll speak it properly. (He takes the manuscript.) "When first the sire's dram"Joc. (Interrupting hivt.) Hollo! hollo! what are you about? Would you murder the author's poetry? CLARI. 17 Ger. That is the pre-r-o-ga-tive of our ca.lling. But what do you call murdering the poetry ~? Bless you, it's the author that murders the poetry-I am only the executioner. "Whei first' [ ~Waits for JGccoso to get a wand. Exeu-t Lo] SCENE II].-A garden splendidly illuminated.-A theatre is formed among the trees in the back, the stage being level with the supposed spectators, and the scene lighted from above; seats areplaced for the audience,.; the curtain, is down.-Theplace is filled by the tenants of the Duke. Music.- Grand march-Enter Jocoso, I. with a wand —he places the tenantry in seats.-Enter Clari, led by the Duke and followed by Fespina and Servants,.- The Spectators rise and bov respectfully - Clari is coznducted to a splendid seat by the Duke's side, L., Yespina renmaining at a distance.-At the end of the Mlarch, the Duke's Page enters, n. Page. (Bozoing to the Duke and presenting papers.) A courier from Milan has brought these despatches, my lord. They require an immediate answer. Dukce, (Rising and looking at the despatches.) Excuse me for a while, my friends; and do not let my absence interrupt your pleasure. The village actors are in waiting, and will amuse you with their humble efforts; ere they are ended, I shall return. [Exit, followed by the Page and two Servants, n. MusIc.-A short opening symphony, preparatory to the beginning of the play-during which Clari beckons Vespina to come and stand by her,.- The curtain rises-SCENE, a landscape, with a Swiss village in the background-Pelgrino's house, L. —a practicable bridge, L. U. E. Enter Leoda from the house, R. Iu. r.-trims and waters a rose-tree -zLusic connected with the opening symphony. Leo. How sweetly my roses have opened! They seem to know that they are destined to be gifts of affection and to smile with the delight I shall feel in bestowing them on those ~ love so dearly. So, this for father, and this for mother. Enter Pelgrino, from the Farm House, n. Uo E. Pel. (B.) Good morning, child. 1 S CLARI. Leo. (L. ) All, father! I've such a gift for you and cldear mother. Pel. Indeed! Leo. There!-Is there a painting in any chateau in Italy half so beautiful? What a name the painter would get, who could only give a perfect copy of these roses; and, you see, I give you the originals for nothing. Pel. Dear girl! Leo. Though not for nothing, neither; for you give me, in exchange, those sweet smiles of affection, which are, to me, of more value than anything else in the world. Pel. Darling child! the look of affection will always reward innocence [Leoda kneels and receives the blessing of her parents. Clari. (Low and agitated, to Tescina.) Look! look!-She s happy! she's happy! Leoda rises-her father x to L, and is departing, Leo. (Running towards him.) What! leave us so soon, my father? Stay till the air grows cooler. Pel. My child, these locks have withered in the hot sun: I have passed many years in toiling for others, and never shrunk, from its beam; and now, when it is for my darling girl I toil, the balm and comfort of my life, I cannot feel fatigue; and every drop that rolls down my weather-beaten forehead in 4uch a cause. makes my old head the lighter. [Pelgrino embraces his dau7ghter and exit L. I. E, Ente' the Wife, from the Farm house, r. u. r.s-she taces a seat by her spinning wheel-Leoda sits down by her side, and begins to work.-Enter the NPobleman and his Servant, on the bridge, looking afJter Pelgrino,. T.. 3. Wife. So, my dear, Zanette is likely to be better off than ever; instead of being ruined by the burning of her cottage, the lord of the manor is to rebuild it, and has made her a handsome present into the bargain. Leo. Indeed! -bless his kind heart! The whole village rings with his charities; and, whenever I see him my heart beats so! Nob. (To his Servant.) He must be out of sight by this time, $tand aside and conceal yourself. [RExeunt Nobleman and Servant, l, u. E. Wife. Ah, my child!-It's a very bad sign when a young girl's heart beats at the sight of a good looking young man, When that happens, she ovght at once to get out of 0 igs WIY? CLARI. 19 Leo. Nay, dear mother, to me a warning is superfluous; your daughter's affections live in her home. Is it pos eible she cm find elsewhere what home will yield her? AIR. —Leoda.-Accomplanied by the fcTrp,'M11id pleasuyes and palaces, though we may roam, Be it'evel so humbie, there's no place like home! Home! sweet home There's no place like home. Fes. (Aside to Clani.) Bless me! —why, if it isn't the very song. [Part of the sony is repeated. Clari. (Stotzhering an hysteric shiriek.) I cannot-cannot; Oh, agony, agony, agony,,i'nter the Nobleman acd Servaznt, L. u.. B., from the bridge, the Wife and Leoda start. gNob. Pray don't rise. Don't let mie disconcert you. Is Pelgrino within? Wife. He is but this moment gone into the fields, my lord. _Nob. Indeed!-that is peculiarly unfortunate, for I have just now urgent occasion to speak with him. Wife. (Aside.) Urgent occasion! VWhat can it be? (To NTobleman.) Then, my lord I'll hasten after him. Pray have the goodness to wait one moment. [ x to L. Nob. Nay, I'm ashamed to give you the trouble, but being of importance — Wife. I'll make the best speed, and bring him to you immediately. [Exit wife, L. U. E. Nob. (R. approaching.) Leoda? Leo. (L. tside.) I'm so flurrled, I. Nob. There's not a moment to be lost!- Pardon this abruptness: I have often seen you, but never before had it in my power to declare how the first glance of that enchanting face Leo. I must not listen to this-leave me, my lord. Nob. I cannot leave you till you have uttered some word of uonsolation; blessed me with some ray of hope! Leo. Of hope? Mly lord I am the daughter of an humble farmer, and have no right to listen to a man like you. Ever were I no longer the mistress of my heart, I trust I am not yet so lost to principle, as to avow it where it might not be confessed with honor. [x. to L. Nob. Do you deem mecapable of deception? Leoda, it ig to l^ake you, my wife-to give you rank and title, tlhat I coo.e, 20 CLARI. One word of yours can give splendor to the home you love, and make the heart, that lives but in your kindness, happy. Leo. (Aside.) Indeed! (hesitating, aloud.) My lord, IClari. [ To Ves.] Hide me! hide me. Tes. Be calm, dear mistress, be calm. I's only a play. Nob. Speak, speak! Leo. Would that my mother would return. The Nobleman falls on his knee, takes her' hand and kisoes it inmpassionately-Leoda weeps. Clari. [Aside.] Fearful resemblance I-Has there before been such alother victim. Nrob. Oh, blessed moment!-Ere another morn, my Leoda, my loved, adored Leoda, will be my bride!-But time presses, we must to my villa, instantly. Leo. [Recoiling.] My lord? Nob. Reason of rank require it; our marriage must be secret and immediate, or it may be prevented. Once mine, I will lead you back in triumph. Leo. What?-Leave my parents in doubt, in misery? Nob. Banish these childish scruples-your parents will applaud you when they know the truth. Come to the lover who adores you!-Come to the altar, which will pour forth bless" ings on those you love so tenderly! Core, Leoda, Come. Attelmpting to lead her towards the bridge- Clari starts up in her place- Vespina steps fozrward eagerly, checks her, and she sinks back to her seat. Clari. [With emnphatic signs to Leoda, and her voice choled with emotion.] No, no, no. Leo. Urge me no more,-farewell! Nob.. Still, still inflexible? My doom's then fixed. [EHalf unsheathes his szoordcl eoda shrieks, and faints in his arms. Clari. The wicked hour come back! -'Tis here again'tis here! Nob. Ha! a moment's delay now would ruin all -- Guido, prepare the carriage-Guido, haste! Music.,-The Nobleman bears oq Leoda over the bridge.-Re-enter the Wife, hastily, L. v. E. Wife. Sure, some one shrieked! Where is Leoda? His lordship gone! [Looking out,] Merciful power!-My child! and borne avway What can this mean? -Stay, stay! Re-enter Pelgrino, hastily, L. u. rE. Pel. [ I, ] Wife, whence this alarm! wi ence this wild cry? CLARL 21 Wife. [ R.] My child! my child! a mere pretence-our girl -our darling —lost-escaped! [Pointing.]-There, there! the, seducer-there, there! She darts forward, and falls against the ascending platforms of th bridge. Clari. Stand before me, Vespina. They'll see-they'll see Pel. What, fled?-Given up to shame? Oh, art beyond belief! A father's curseClari. [Springing vp, rushes on the stage and falls a his feet.] Hold, curse her not.-She is not lost-she is innocent. Be-enter the DZuke Vivaldi and Servants, R. Duke. What do I see? Music. - The Dukle and Tleantry stand astonished- Fespina raises Clari, and the scene closes. [ Quick drop,picture.] ACT Ilo SCENE I.-An apartment in the Palace.?nter'Fespina, R. leadisng in Clari, her hair dishevelled, her fric pale. Ulari. [P..] Thanks thanks! a thousand thanks. I grieve ~o have troubled you thus-'tis over now-'tis nothing. Ves. [.] hMy lady, the duke, the duke! tEter the DukZe Vivaldi, i. latri. [Greatly cgitated.] My lord, IDukee [ Wi'th a severe look.] No more of that;-tis past. Clari. My lord. Dukle. Leave us, Vespina. [ xit Ves.,.. Clari. [ R.] Have I deserved this indifference, Vivaldi? Is it my fault, that my feelings overcame me, and that the scene revived my sense of duty? Oh, Vivaldi! it is those fatal feelings which have made me what I am. /Duke. [L.] I am weary of this parade of sensibility. You have called up against me the laugh of my tenantry and domestics;-let that content you. Clari. What does this change portend?-This freezing look -this language of reproach? Duke. For your own sake and mine, press me no farther Clari. I would not have had the scene which has just passed, occur for millions. If you have placed yourself in unpleasant circumstances, common policy should at least teach you to shun the sneers of the world. But, it is over; and. nothing can now 284 CLARI. be said whlicl will not increase instead of diminish our mutual uneasiness. [x to. Clani.- -[. As if alnost awakened to the truth, emphatically and hysterically exclaii-rs,] Am I deceived? Duke. (R.) I cannot tell what childish hopes you may have indulged; and I am only sorry that you should have been weak enough to deceive yourself. C0ari. Oh, no! my agitation must have shaken my senses t He coulcd not-no, no!-Vivaldi!-in the name of all that you have professed, and I believed; in the name of those vows which are registered on high, however man may slight themn; and in tha olier namle of tll, the name of Him, whose bolt hangs o'er the hypocrite, dispel these doubts, and this suspense; restore ine instantly to my parents, or at once name the hour for that ceremony to pass, when, before the world, you acknowledge me as your wife Duke. Since you will force me to be' explicit, ClariL is it not strange that a mind so intelligent should have fancied for a moment that it was possible for one of nmy rank to wed a girl in yours? Clari. (Choked with emotioe,,,) The oath! the oath! -Duke ily he'rt is ev.er your's; but miy hand I have no power,to dispose. (Clari is going, R) Nlay, you pass not hence. ltr1i. Are there no pangs that, like the.dagger, kill the heart they pierce? I cast me at your feet in ag.ony!-'Tis 4Clari kneels and supplicates; not for herself, but for the racked souls, and the grey hairs of age; for your own honor and eternal peace, restore me to my parents. Duke. [AAside.] She rends my soul! [To Clari.] No more! no more I Believe my heart unchanged -my unceasing love. — Clari. Monster! dar'st thou still profane that sacred world? No, my lord, the mask is torn away,-the attachment which was my pride, now is my disgust! (x to R)'Tis past!. I know myself deceived; but, thank heaven, I am not lost. To you, my lord, the bitter hour is not yet arrived;.but'tis an hour that never fails to guilt. At some unexpected moment, the blandishmlents of pleasure will lose their force, the power of enjoyment will be palsie in your soul: it will awake only to remorse'! In that hour of retribution, think of these words of warningl-think of the hearts you've broken -think, my lord, and tremble.. [Exit, R. D. Duke. The ftal truth curdles my blood like poison I feel the hell in my-bosom? Oh, what a heart I've lost! But, gracious heaven)! her desperation may attack her life, and I the eause. She must be watched! Who waits? CLARi Enter Vespina, L. Duke. Vespina go to your mistress. ( es. x. to r.) Say, that just reparation shall be made. Say, all that should be said to sooth her agony. Then return. (Exit TIes. m.) I wait her coming, as the wretch waits for the announcement of his doom. Hark! —did'nt some one move? -No, not yet. Now! again deceived! A step approaches the door-It; opensshe's here! Re-enter Vespina n.'es. [R.] She sat like a statue, with her eyes fixed upothe earth; aand when I spoke, burst into a flood of tears. She t~hen threw herself on a couch, and, I think, seems as if she Would fall into a slumbero D/dce. Let her not be disturbed, but watch instantly. Il this state of mind, her life's not safe in her own hands. Ta your care I confide her. [Exit i. Yes.'Her.life not safe! Miercy on us! Well, if this is being in love -~ Page. [Interrupting her.] You are almost inclined to wish yourself free again-eh, Signora? -' Ves. Why, you little marmoset, you! what do you mean.by wishing myself free? Have you the assurance to insiniuate that I am in love? Page. I don't insint.te, I affirm. Ves. Was there ever such an audacious youngt - - Page. Come, come, don't call nanmes, Signora, nor attemlpt to deny it;. it's quite evident. SCENE II. A magnificent apartment adjolirting Clari's bed, chaimber. [rSane as Scene.j] The curtains of the Frencch window' closed-lights on the toilet. Lnnter Vespina, L,-She steals softly to the bed-chamber door n. and eesc..' Ves. Yes, she sleeps. Poor lady, mIeiArt bleecTs for her. [ Coming forward.] Why, this strange tuniloked-for adventure has created a fine confusion with all of us; for, see-if one wouldn't think, -by the st-tte this room is in, that it had turned the heads of the whole family? Scarcely a piece of furniture in its place, and my mistress's toilet, too. [going to the toilet.-table.] Here's disorde1r! but hold, Vespina.-that' -CLARL your afairi, so no complaining, There, there, and there. putiing toilet-table to rights) I declare I'm almost worn out with this bustle. Hegho! I'm'ordered by the duke to watch my nistrers here, but I's sure I don't know what I shall do to keep awakeo Suppose I finish the new drawing the Lady lari honored my humb ale tlents by so luch admiNing~-that's just the thing. (She places the drawing stand'in front of the teage and sits down.) Ah! love, love, you're a sad capricious, Wischievoms, little monkey, that you are, and I9m afraid I shall be thinking more about.you than my di:wing, aft;et all, StXG.~W VSPIN.X Little love's a mischievous boy, And uses the heart like a toy! Full of rapture when first he takes it, qT'hen 1ie pouts, throws it down, and breaks ito His Smile has suWh iWitchery in it, That all the world wishes to win it; But when in his cross moods they hear hia, All wish they had never come near him. She goes to the door of Ehe bed-chaiber, and having ascertained ~hat her mistress still sleeps, shie returns to the drawing. Ves. (Wittz signs of excessive weariness.). 0h, dear! my eyelids are so heavy, they stick together whenever I wink, and I'can scarcely force'em open again,. My poor drawing will never get finished, at this rate. However, I must try once tnore what it will do, to keep me from sleeping on my post. [She removes her chair, etc., up nemc the glass, L She sits down and sings. E6But there's no getting folks to be taught," I'Vods, revives, and starts, "'Experience otners has bought." fNods and revives.'"Young love's a mischievous boy." "-Too'-";Win it'~-~'In it"-~.Win it',-'Will it.-, fall s asleep-her sklep seems disturbed —she appears eery instan? ready to awake. ~neter Clari, in her village dress, R. D.-She approacfhes softly and looks cactViously at Vespisza. CLARI. 2 Clari. She sleeps! Now is the only moment I thought I could not brave a father's eyes: but there is a courage in despair, which makes the weak frame wonder at itself. (producing a letter.) This to the duke. (Bringing ornaments.) And here are all his gifts-his diamonds-his detested wealth. (Puts the things on the toilet R. and attaches the letter to a casket.) Now, methinks, my heart feels lighter. Yes, like the prodigal, I will turn my steps where a child may always look with confidence., I have beer imprudent, but am not guilty. Heaven receives the offering of the sincerely penitent; and can a parent's blessing be denied where heaven forgives? She undraws the curtain softly, and opens the window-the distant landscape is discovered by a fine moonlight Clar brings a scarf, and fastens one end of it to the balcony railing, then returns, makes an appeal to heaven for protection, and blows out the candles, the stage is insantaneously thrown into a deep darkness, which contrasts finely with the strong blueish moonlight, cast so powerfully op-,on the background, that Clari is distinctly discovered getting over the balcony, and letting herself down slowly by the scarf, till at last her head sinks out of sight. Enter Jocoso, L. D., with a lighted candle in his hand, after pushing the door softly open, and peeping in. Joe. Vespina will be mighty lonesome, sitting up here all might by herself. I don't see her. Hist! something moved. Why, if she isn't fast asleep! Her dream seems to make her terribly uneasy. Perhaps she fancies she's torn away from.me? She's trying to cry out! It must be what they call the nightmare. They say a touch will cure it. I'll try. (He kisses Vespina, who starts up and screams violently.) Hush! hush! (Putting his hand to her mouth,) It's only me! You'll disturb the'house, and I shall lose my character. Ves. Oh, such a dream.! I thought I saw young mistress weltering in her blood! (Runs to Clari's door.) What's this? What does this mean? The chamber door open? (Darts into chamber and returns hastily.) Not there, not there. Joe. Then she must be gene. (Runs to the window, a. F) If -there isn't the window wide open, too, and a shawl hanging -over the balcony. Ves. (Running up and down, wringing her hands,) Escaped!'lost. Follow, Jocose, follow. Joe. What, jump out of the window? No, I'm obliged to you, I'd rather be excused. Ves. We're ruined-we're undone. Help! help! help! Joc. TIel,! help! Eniter the Duke, hastily, followed by Claudio.iietro, and Se'vant,. with fiambeaux, 26 OLARL Duke. (c.) What means this alarm? Ves. My lady I my lady! Joe. [Rn. Ah, yes, my lord, my lady. Duke. What of her! where is she? Joc. That's exactly what we don't know, my lord. Ves. [L.] That window Duke. Gone? Oh, misery! Wretches, this is your deecd [drawing his swosrd Swift punishment - [Jocoso and Vespina drop on their knees, trembling. Joe. If you kill us -- Ves. We shall never Joe. Live to Ves. Be married, my lord. Duk. [dashing down his sword,'] What can be done? Which way to turn! [discovers the letter attached to the casket.] Ha! what's here! a letter. (Tears it opens and reads, pauses a mnoment, then seems to forsm a sudden determination.)'Tis fixed? Mly mind's resolved. There's but one course; I'll hesitate no longer. [To the Servants,] Away! Fly in search of herand wealth be his reward who shall restore her to my arms. [Exit _Duke, hastily, L. D. END OF ACT 2. 'CLARI. 27 ACT III. SCENE.-CGlaris native villcge, with a distant view of Milan, two cottages onl opposite sides. Enter Ninetta and iempedo, from the Gottage, R Nim. Thank ye, neighbors, thank ye. Enter Nicolo fiom thee cottage, L. Nic. Good morning to you my dear girl; and may this prove a blessed day to you. I'll try if I can't prevail on Rolamo, the unfortunate father of Clari, to come to your wedding; poor fellow? he may be compared to the ruined wing of the crazy old mansion house he has converted into a farm, that looks down in gloomy silence upon the bright and smiling landscape which everywhere surrounds it. [x. to L.] Ah I that sad girl. The flowers they go to gather are less frail than she has proved. My children be virtuous, if you would be happy. [Cxit, L. Nin. [n.] Clari's father! Ah, if our poor Clari herself were only here now, how her heart would rejoice in our happiness. Nim. [L.] Don't name her, Ninetta; don't name her. A virtuous girl's lips ought not to be sullied by the mention of her name. Nin. Ah, Nimpedo! pity becomes the virtuous, and the more she is fallen, the more she deserves to be pitied. Nimn. Psha! Can't you talk about something else? Nin. A sad day it was when she went away. Everybody was downcast, as if some great affliction had befallen the village. Nim. More fools they; if you or I had gone, indeed, it might have afflicted them; now, Ninetta, you sha'nt talk any more about her. If'yesterday hadn't been her birth day, we should have been married yesterday, plague on her. Cheer up, Ninentta; come, cheer up, and if you won't without, I'll give you a kiss, and try what that'll do. [ffe attempts to kiss her-she avoids him, Nin. Come, come, sir, we're not man and wife yet. Enter Clari, L. C(lari. [ Calling.] Ninetta! Arimz. Lartin2f.] Bless us! wlhat's that? 28 CLARI. Nim. As I live, it's Clari, or her ghost! Nin. It must be her ghost. Nim. [Terrified] Eh? Oh, dear-I say, Ninetta, do you stay here - and - and-I'll go and fetch the priest to speak to it. [going. Nin. [Stopping him] Oh, don't leave me, Nimpedo. Stand before me. Don't let it do me any harm. Clari. Ninetta, only one word I Nin. No;'tis she herself, as I'm alive, but, oh, how changed. x. to c. Nim. Are you quite sure? Clari, Ninetta, one word. Nim. Don't speak to her Ninetta. Don't have a word to say to her, alive or dead; she'll make you as bad as herself. Nin. You've no right to command me yet, I'm free to-day; and we musn't turn our backs on the unfortunate Nimpedo. Stand aside, now, and let me hear what she has to say. Nimn. Ah, women will have their way, so I'll give you your's this time, because I can't help it; but remember, Ninetta, people are known by the company they keep. I would not, for the world, have you seen talking with a wretch, that -as you please. [going, returns] You know, I'm not very particular, but,-well, as you please-oinly,-well, I'm going. [Exit into the cottage, R. Clari. [advancing, I.] Ninetta have you forgotton me? Nin. [R.] No, Clari, no I nor never shall forget you. I was even talking about you as you called. Ah, Clari, you're sadly altered; and so is everything since you went away. Such a day as it was when you left us. There wasn't a dry eye, nor a cheerful word spoke in the village. Your poor fatherClari. [L. quickly] Well, well? Nin. I see, it grieves you: I didn't mean to make you sad -you look as if you had suffered enough. This is my weddingday, Clari. Clari. Your wedding-day! blessings on it, Ninetta! blesings! blessings. Oh, if there be heaven on earth, it is the heaven of virtuous love, by virtuous bonds united. Nin. raside]. She makes my heart come into my eyes. [Ao Clari.] Can I do anything for you, Clari? Clari. Yes, Ninetta; I wish to see my mother, and to see her privately. She would not, perhaps, admit me to her presence, if she were forewarned. You can oblige me greatly if you will induce her to come to me, by saying that a stranger desires to speak to her. Nin. That I will, with all my heart, Clari; and may it come to good. [Ninetta rapidly crosses Clari, to get out L-a flute is heard, playing the air of " HIoME, SWEET HOMrE."- Clari catches the arm of Ninetta, and stands transfixed in'breathless silence till it is ended.] Hear you that, Clari? Some wandering mountain tLARI. 2'rhei, Who-oh, Clari! does it not seem as if a spirit in the air -had breathed the melody so sacred to our home, as a good omen to, the returning wanderer? GClari. En.] My heart will break. Nin. There's a promise in those sounds, which makes me sure we shall not fail. [going.] But where shall I finc you? Clari. I'll follow you: go round to the front door; I'll take the opposite side, and meet you at the yard gate. Nin. Heaven help you, Clari! [Exit, running, L Clari. And heaven will help the'heart determined to retrace the paths of rectitude and honor.,The melodyplayed on the flute at a distance is heard again. SCENE IT.-A Picturesque Landscape. —A Farmhouse in the f oreground, formed out of the ruins of an ancient mansion, L.-A large Cartshed attached, containing a cart loaded with hzay-A little thatched Stummer-house, embossed in a wood, R. s. E. —A Quickset Hedge, breast-high, round the Farmya/rd.-A Bridge.-T The Great Gate, R. 1u. E..-A Table, R. c. Fidalma enters with brealfast things, which she places on the table, L. lid. There! There! — heres'the breakfast ready for my poor Rolamo, and now I wish he would return.'He has been out ever since daybreak with his gun: it's the only thing that seems to excite his attention. At home, all day long he does nothing but sigh-or, if he thinks he is not observed, weep. Oh, Clari, unthinking girl! you have too much to atone for! How long he stays! (looking out.) No-no glimpse of him! yet, my mind is never easy in his absence: his despondency sometimes makes me fear that-ah! surely yonder I see him moving mournfully through the trees. Yes,'tis he -he is just at the bridge-he comes! [i lsic. —Rolamo is seen passing over the b.idge, L. u. E. and carrying his gun.] Enter Rolamo, at the gate, R, - he places his gun against tie farmhouse, L. 2. F. Fid. You were wrong to have wandered so far. You seem quite exhausted. Ral. [ Wiping his forehead] No;'tis only exercise that can divert my gloom. When the mind's disturbed, the body does not feel fatigued. I'm late-I hope you hav'nt waited breakfast for me. m3U~ OCLAR. Fid. [r.] I woull'nt certainly breakfast without you; bui you are too much heated to sit in the open air. Go into thy house, and I'll take the breakfast things in for you. Rol. [R.] Well, well, as you please. [Fidalma gathers up the breakfast things, and exits into th house, L, 2. E. Rol. [Looking after her] Poor childiess motheIr! she struggles with her grief, and endeavors to impart a joy which neither of us can know again!-No, no; peace of mind fled with my guilty daughter-never to return! Why did I repair the ravages time had made in this old mansion? Why strive to give an air of comfort to my habitation? Because I deemed it would be the abode of bliss. She-my child has made it the cave of despair. But, no matter; a few years of neglect, desolation will spread around, and hearth and roof-tree will be ruined, like my happiness, and broken as my heart My daughter, my Clari I Oh, misery, misery. [Rushes into the house, n. 2. E. Ree-enter Fidalma, from the house, Nicolo through the gate, R.'U. E. ~Nic. Fidalma, good morning. We're to have a wedding in the village to-day. My daughter is to be married to our neighbor Nimpedo, and I come to invite you and your husband to. join our frolics. - Fid. I'm sure it's invain to say anything to Rolamo. He i so given up to his griefs, that he shuns all society. Nie. He ought not-society is the only remedy. He should hope, and have more fortitude. Join your entreaties to mine, Fidalma, and try to prevail upon him, for once at least, to go abroad, and our young folks will take it as the greater compliment. Fid. With all my heart; and I should be very glad if he would consent; but I fear'tis in vain to ask him. Ni.ic. At any rate we can try. So, I'll follow you [Exeunt into the house, L. 2. E. Enter Clari at the gate, I. v. Ed Clari. There is my home! my blessed, blessed home. A frowning form appears to guard the threshold, shrieking in my ear-" Hence, thou shalt not enter!" But can I linger here? [Advances a step or two forward.] I seem to tread upon the earth like a criminal, yet still must I steal upon the hallowed spot. Ieart, be firm. (Advances then starts back) I must, I will approach. Now, now, now! [IRZaving made at last one violeft effort, she rushes down and exclaims triumphantiy,] Once more I am surrounded by all that is dear to me! Father, mother, your unhappy child, sorrowing, imploring, returns to you. (A flute is heard without, at a distance, R. U. B.) And hark! Again my native village song! how acutely doth its accents strike upon my heart, in such a scene as this; around whose every tree and flower some recollection of infancy is entwined. [A chorus of villagers is heard without, -. U. B., as if they were passing along the road.]'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! Home! sweet home There's no place like home. During the chorus Clari casts herself upon her knees, overpowered by the excess of her grief. Nin. [Calling exultingly from the farm house.] Joy, Clari I joy. Be-enter Ninetta, gaily, from the house, L. S. E.- Clari springs up in rapture, and runs to meet her. Fin. Joy, Clari, joy; she'll come to you. Wait in the summer house, and she'll be with you instantly. Clari. Thanks! ten thousand, thousand thanks. Nin.' She's coming-go quick. I pray for your success from the bottom of my soul. [Exit latri into summer house, n. Re-enter F7idalma, from the house, L. so E. lid. In the summer house. Min. Yes, ma'am; the person's waiting for you there.:[Exit Fidalma, into the summer house, Ra s. E.] Enter Nimnpedo, running through the gate, R. u. E. linm. Here's pretty treatment for a wedding day. You couldn't be less civil if we had been married a year. To leave me all this while stuck behind a tree, waiting, sighing, and tiot knowing what to think of-and, when I go to look, to lead me such a thread-my-needle-dance-first through the wood, then over the little bridge, and-indeed, Niuetta - Nin. Indeed-I've been doing what's of more consequence to both of us, than to watch your whims. Ninm. What's that:? k32 OZL~CLARI. linz. Assisting to bring home a wanderer. Clari is il that summer house with her mother.'itm. No! And that was all you scampered away from me so for? iVin. Yes, Nimpedo; and don't you think that such an act may bring a blessing on your wedding day. lNirz. Why, now I think of it, I can't say that I don't think, but I do think so-andNin. Away, away! they're coming. Niin. Come along, come along. [They run out, arcz-in-armn through the gate, R. u. E.l Re-enter Fidalma, pale and tremtbling.-She looks out, then makes a sign to Clari, who follows fromz the sunmmer house, n. s. B. Glari. (P.) Mother., dear motheri to be suffered once more to speak to you in this place; to know myself pardoned: my heart is so fall-thus, thus only can I thank you. (Seizes her haCnd, and kisses it with enthusiasm.) Fid. (L.) Unhappy girl. I believe you innocent; but a mother's heart is more indulgent than the world. And, ah, there is one yet to be appeased. [Ste2s heard in the farm house, L. s. E.] Your father, softly-stand out of sight —he comes, but must not know you yet. [She puts a veil over GClari, who shrinks into. the sumnsmer house. PFidalma retires uz2 n. (Re-enter Rolacno from the house, L. s. E., followed by Nicolo.) N2ic. But, at ony rate, for half an hour you might. Rol. No; I shall only mar the festal hour. I am the scathed tree of the heath, that cannot drop. The bolt that struck cff my branches, has left my old trunk erect in wretched loneliness. NiC. [R.j'Tis a shame, neighbor, for a strong mind, like yours, to give itself up to sorrow, in this way. You might as well put a pistol to your head at once; for you'll be sure to kill yourself by it, sooner or later; and self murder in one form is quite as criminal as in another. Rol. [R.] When you have seen the being for whom you've lived-the object of every solicitude-the child you've reared with unceasing watchfulness, wrenched from you by a villain's grasp, then come to me, and talk of patience, and I'll listen. Nic. Well, well,'11 not weary you any longer. From my soul'; I'm cgrieved to see you thus abandoned to fruitless sorrowv.'Farewell, my friend, and mis.y days be at land when we:hail e you s mileo oce l'nre. [JI It /it hr'oh g(.c, iov.:, CLARI. 33 Rol. Smile! Oh, happy father; happy to see his daughter safe in her native innocence-safe from the bane of wealth. I once hoped that such a day would beam on me; but fate was jealous. Lost girl. [Fidalma leads Clari from the summer house -they watch Rolamo, unobserved] As I gaze there, methinks I see her in her infant days of innocence, when first her little steps began; laughing, she ran, with arms extended, towards me; then I trembled lest her young feet should fail, and she should fall. But she passed through those fearful times unharmed. She escaped a thousand dangers: now she fallsfalls to the earth, never to rise. [Fidalmac advances, n.] She's gone! she's lost. My Clari, oh my child. [Throws himself into a chair, a. Fid. [Advancing and touching his shoulder.] A tear. Did I not hear our Clari's name, too? Did not your lips utter the name of our child? Rol. [CRises.] No, no, Fidalma; let us, if possible, not think or speak of her again..Fid. [R.] Well, dear Rolamo, I will not urge it now; but here is a poor young creature, the daughter of-~ Rol. Away, away! I have no daughter. [x to n. Fid. (L.) No Rolamo, but this repentant child, (the daughter of a neighbor,) is on her way to ask forgiveness of her offended father. She faints with shame and grief, and dares not meet him. Do speak a word or two to comfort her, and teach her in what words she should address him, to gain his blessing, and to soothe his anguish. Rol. None! Let her not dare to look upon him; let not her presence insult the home her infamy has disgraced. [r to L. Clari throws herself into her mother's arms.] Perhaps, too, she has a mother, rich in every virtue-let her shun that mother, too; for contamination is in her touch. Virtue can hold no intercourse with vice, though vice, with double baseness, kneels, affecting reverence for virtue. Clari. [Sobbing.] Oh, oh! Rol. Yet hold; I will not judge too harshly; for there are shades of guilt, and her's, perhaps, may not be of so deep a dye as to preclude forgiveness. [Fidalnma puts Clari over to him] Perhaps her father was not affectionate. -Perhaps, (poor child) he was morose and rigid; perhaps neglectful, cold, and unindulgent. Clari. Oh, no, he was most kind, affectionate, and good. [Still sobbing.] Rol. What did he love you more than all the world? Did he rear you in domestic tenderness, and train you in the paths 34 CLARI. of virtue? Did he clasp to his doating heart, and in his foolish pride, proclaim his child the paragon of earth, and did you then blast all these fond hopes, and, clinging to another leave him in his storm of griefs? Clari. Oh, oh! (Weeps, and in great agitation falls on her knees before hi7n.) Fid. Dear Rolamlo, do not aggravate the dear child's misery. She is repentant; she is the shorn lamb; temper the storm to her affliction, do not add another wound to a heart already too much lacerated. Rol. Well, well, be it so. I will forget my own, and try to soothe her griefs-Young woman, rise. [He craises her; and takes her hand tenderly. What your miseries are I well can guess: what your father's sufferings are, I too well know. You fear to meet his eyes, you dread to hear his curse. A father's curse is heavy! Shall I paint his agonizing suffering to you, child? I can do so, for I have felt it. I feel it now. [ Ceeps] I once had a daughter. Clari. Oh, sir, do not name her. Rol. Oh, how I doted on that daughter, words cannot speak; thoughts cannot measure; yet she sacrificed mre to a villain, her ingratitude has bleached this head, her wickedness has broken this heart, and now my detestation is upon her. Oh, do not you resemble her-remain not a moment longer from your father-fly to him, ere his heart give way, as mine does now; ere he curses you, as I now curseGYlar. (Darting forward in excessive agitation.) No more, in mercy, oh, no more. Rol. Ha! Away; away, away. (Retreating, L. Clari. (Falling on her knees.) Your vengeance cannot make you deal to the agony of a despairing child; behold me on my knees. I bring the sacrifice of a broken spirit. I do not ask your love, till you know I'm worthy to be loved; I do not ask your confidence, till you feel I can again be trusted; but do not deny me the shelter of your paternal roof. Rol. (Violently.) Hence, hence! I know you not. My sight rejects you-spur.ns you. If you have wasted all the spoils of guilt, there, there's gold, your idol, gold, gold, for which you bartered all hopes of bliss. Dashes a p2rse violently 0o the ground, and crosses to Flidalnac, n. Clari. Father, father, hear me. Fid. Rolamo, hear her-she is innocent! Rol. Innocent! Shie innocent! no, no, impossible. She left us-left her doating parents, her happy home-to follow a villain? [Shouts without, I. u. E. CLARI. 85 -Eter the Duke, followed by Jocoso, Vespina, ATicolo, Ninetta, Nimnpedo, and Villagers, through the gate, R. u. E. Vih. Huzza! Huzza! Fid. What can this mean? Glari. (Starting) Merciful powers! the Duke! Rol. (Springing forward on seeing the Duke.) What, the fiend come to mock me.'Tis the avenging star that sends him to the sacrifice. [RRunsto the side of the house, L., and seizes his gun.] Monster! Murderer!-you shall not escape. Here at the feet of her you've pulled down to infamy, your bloodyour hot blood. [Levelling his piece at.the Duke. Clari. [Springing between thevz.] Hold, father, hoid! Rol. (Dropping his gun.) You are protected. I cannot kill my child. (Sinks on a chair. Duke. Hear me, Rolamo. Your daughter is innocent. She was lured from home by my promise of marriage. Before the whole village, assembled at a nuptial ceremony, I have proclaimed it. I would have deceived her, but her virtue was triumphant, and she fled. Ffid. [Exugltingly.] Hear, husband, hear. Duke. Her pleadings awoke remorse within my breast, restored me to a sense of duty-and now I come to implore your pardon, and request your daughter's hand. Rol. [Starting up wildly.] What, restored! restored! ha! ha! ha! [Falls into Nicolo's arms —revives.] Stand from about me-let. me see my child! my lost child found! my child that I can own. [ Clanri is set before himn-they spring into each other's arss —Rolamo takes her hanzd9 and unites it to the Dukze's-they both kneel,-Rolamo entends his hands over theme-his eyes turned spward, and streamzing with tears, and with a choked voice, exclaimzsHeaven! bless ye! FINALE. \VS. \r Welcome'lome n Welcom6 home! LoQve and'rienclship blond their voices, Virtue in her chi 1i rejoices! CHORPUS. e com hme one' elcomen home DISPOSITION OF T HiE CnAB.ACTEFI.S AT THE FALL OF THE CiJT' iITAIN -. L. THE, N 1). EHE FOLLOWING IS A LIST OF PLAYS FOR SALE BY WILLIAX V. SPENCER, 12 WASHINGTON STREET (CORNER OF WATER) BOSTON. (At 12~: and 25 cents each.) Time Tries All Lady Godiva. Wanted, 1000 Young Practical Man Angelo Milliners Soldier's Progress Mary Queen of Scots Macbeth Travestie Reigning Favorite Left in a Cab Critic Swiss Cottage The Carpenter of Rouen Slasher and Crasher Ladder of Love Pauline Not a Bad Judge Daughter Cool as a Cucumber Woman I Adore Two Queens A Hopeless Passion! Mysterious Lady How do you Manage? Game of Speculation My Precious Betsey Comfortable Service Thumping Legacy Capital Match Creole, or Love's Fetters Thetis and Peleus House out of Windows Novelty Fair The Guardian Angel Betsey Baker Philosopher's Stone Two Bonnycatles Jenkinses Diogenes and his Lantern Counter Attractions Phenomenon in a Smook Esmeralda I've Eaten my Friend Frock Power and Principle Tender Precautions Harlequin Hudibras Out on the Loose Harlequin Hogarth - Cherry Poor Cousin Walter Box and Cox Good Woman in the Domestic Economy Willow-Pattern Plate Wood Daughter of the Stars An Organic Affection Leo the Terrible Woodman's Spell- Duel in the Dark Bold Dragoons Jack in the Green A Kiss in the Dark'Twas I Without Incumbrances Cherry and Fair Star Where there's a Will Princesses in the Tower Corsican Brothers there's a Way Platonic Attachments Our Clerks Gilderoy My Wife's Daughter Matrimonial Prospectuses Your Life's in Danger Husband of my Heart El Hyder The Violet Serve Him Right Twelve Labors of Her- Louis XI. I'll be your Second cules To Paris and Back for;6 Harlequin Alfred tle Who Stole the Pocket Obstinate Family Great Book? A Strange History Harlequin O'Donoghue Wittikind Raffaelle the Reprobate Prince Dorus Lost Husband Buckstone's Ascent of Witch of Windermere King of the Alps Mount Parnassus Taken in and Done for Ganem Stage Struck Rob Roy Macgregor Taking by Storm Elopements in High Life Belphegor Very Suspicious A Desperate Game La Tarantula Left the Stage Uncle Crotchet All that glitters is not Rose of Ettrick Vale Ladies at Home Gold Unwarrantable Intrusion Hamlet Travestie Odious Captain Cutter Binks the Bagman A. S. S. Bombastes Furioso Miller of Whetstone A Fast Train The Exposition "Matrimonial," &c. Maid with Milking Pall The Alhambra Book the Third, Chapter Trying it on Sir Roger de Coverley the First Gold The Ladies' Battle Sink or Swim Rappings and Table "Apartments," Visitors Writing on the Wall Movings to the Exhibition, &c. John Dobbs A Handsome Husband A Cheap Excursion Son of the Wilderness The Times Woman's Love The Drunkard Shylock Fast Coach Diamond cut Diamond P. P., or the Man and the Fire-Eater Gale Breezely Tiger Anything for a Change Master Passion Going to Chobham Toothache Prima Donna Acis and Galatea CATALO UE CONTINUED. L.ve and MIurder Pocahontas 1Sweethearts and Wives Love in livery Pretty Piece of Business. She would & she would'nt Iucretia Borgia Padddy Carey Sketches in India Lady of Lyons Paddy The Piper Sardanapalus Loves Sacrifice Pet of the Petticoats St Patrick's Eve Love Chase lhe Poor Pillicody Secret The Iondon Assurance Perplexing Predicament Secret Service Look before you.eap Paul Pry Spitfire The Love Pizarro Seven Clerks The loan of a Lover Poor Gentleman The two Buzzards luke the Laborer Passing Cloud Ilhe. Teddy the Tiler Love in humble Life P. P. or-Man and Tiger To Paris and Back. Little Treasure Perfection Temper love in a Village Pride of the Market Three weeks afer Mar More Blunders than One Pleasant iXeighbor riage My Aunt Poor Soldier'he Toodles The Man and Wife Padlock'lhe Town and Country Masks and Faces Prize The Twelfth Night Merry Wives of Windsor Prommissory Note The Two Bonny Castles Michael Erie Paul and Virgixia'Twould Puzzle a Co&njuMidsumer Night's Dream Pickwick Club ror Mummy'Ihe Pauline Two in the Morning Moll Pitcher Parents and Guardians Two Gentlemen of Vero Macbeth People's Lawyer na " Travestie Patrician's Daughter Temptation Merchant of Venice Queen's Jewel Tom Noddy's Secret Money Queen of the Abruzzi Taken in and done for Marco Spado Review The Therese Mob Cap The Robber's Wife Too Much of a good Morning Call Rory O'Moore thing Mr & Mrs White Romance & Reality Turning the Tables Maurice the Woodcutter Roland for an Oliver A Tom Cringle Momentous Qaestion Rosina Meadows Used Up Much ado about Nothing Rakes Progress The Uncle John Mountaineers The Raising the Wind Van Dieman's Land Married and Single Richelieu Vidocq Mind your own Business Road to Ruin Venice Preserved Maid of Croissey Romeo and Juliet Virginius Married Kake Robbers Ihe Vicar of Wakefield Mary Queen of.Scots Rivals Ihe Village Lawyer My Wife's Diary Richard III Vampire, The Mfy Neighbors Wife Rent Day'he Ways and Means Miller and his Men Rough Diamond The Waterman The Matteo Falcone Ransom lhe i ITwo Gregories Maid of Florence Robert Macaire Wild Oats Mother and Child are Sea of Ice Wandering tfinstrel The doing well Sailor of France Wanted one Thousanid MAy Uncle Sunshine through the MIilliners My Grandmother St. Cupid Willow Copse The Madeline Six Degrees of Crime Widow s Victim The Mountain Sylph Sophias Supper Wife The Man of many Friends Satanin i Paris William Tell Nature and Philosolphy Spring and Autumn Writing on the Wall New Footman'lhe Shandy Maguire Wolf and Lamb Nature's Nobleman Still Waters Run Deep Wilful Murder Neirvous Maln Spectre Bridegroom Werner Niped in the Bud Sergeant's Wife'lhe White Horse of the Pep New Way to Pay Old Swiss Swains The pers Debts iSchool for Scandal Weathercock The XNo. I Round the Corner.!Soldiers Daughter Who Speaks First Naval Engagements Serious Family Wraith of Lake Old Guard'lhe She Stoops to Conquer Wives by Advertisement Othello Straner Wonder The Opposite Neighbors School for Grown Child- Wreck Ashore Omnibus'lhe ien Ugolino Object of Interest School for Prodigals Whistle for it Old Heads and Young Schoolfor Authors Young Hussar Hearts School for Arrogance!Young Widow The Old Maids Swiss Cottage'lhe Yes Old Chateau Slasher and Crasher Yes or No Old Oak Tree Sea Captain'he Yeoman's Daughter Paul Jones Sent to the Tower Yellow Kids Presumptive Evidence Speed the Plough Yellow Dwarf Popping the Question Simpson & Co Za Ze Z; Zo Zu Ten of the above for One Dollar. i.'.. 11 tE A collection of Scarce Acting Trayedies, Comedies, Dramas, Farces, and j t Bilettas.U. — Uiformn in price and style. E4E.CH INUBIER 1.21-2 CEN TSe - - 10 FOR ONE DOLLAR, I NO 0 t!l A 1 Y. V OL. 1. VOL. III. 1. MOI L PITCIHER. 1T PRESUMPTIVE EVIDENCE. ~ 2. THE POREST ROSE. IS MAN & WIFE. 3. SSWItSS SVWATIS 19 THlE SERGEANT'S WIFE. 4. THElI BACHELOR'S BEIDROO3M 20 MASKtS & FACES. 5. SOPi-HIA'S SUPPER. -21 aER-LY XVIVES OF WINDSOR. A ROL.-'ND FOR AN OLIVERP. 22 NATUIRE AND PHILOSOPHY. 7. BLACK:E-:E YED SUSAN.'23 AGf.NES DE VITRrE.. 18. JOIHN BULL. 24 SHANDY MAGUH JE. V0OL. II. VOL. IV. 9. SATAN IN PARtS. M3 WYILD OATS,. IO,101.E. IBLUNDERS TH1AN ONE26'iCHAE" L ERiE.,. 11 BROSINA MlEAiDOWS_. I7 TBRDY3) THIE TILkERTe. 12 TH-JE DlUCI B'ELLE. 28 SgP~iCTRE 13BRtDEGR0OOM. 13 MYr AUNT.' 29 lDIOT WTN.ESS. 15 SIX DI;GiEEcES OF CRIME. 31 31ATTEO FALC'ONE. E16 L ImICKj.it BOY. 32 PEOPLE'S LAXVYERII,. VOL. V.. VOL. Vi. 33 JENTY LIND 4 TH 5 WVONLDER 34 (-C03I1ED OF ERRORS. i42 RO}BEE'S WISFE,. 3" LUCRETIA BO.iGGSA. 43 HA-PPY M ATsI. 36 SURG-EO^ OF PARIS. ~ 44 SIAMESE TWISN S. 37 PATR ICI AN'S DAUiHETER. 4 WREL iCK ASHOE. 39 SHOEI.'AKER OF TOULOUSE. 4T IL11tL.E1E AND }HIS MEN..40 THE MISOENTO(IUS QUESTION. 4" RORYFL (lAO'MOSlI'E. 49 Madeline, the Belle of the Falibo rmg. 50 letsy ea E c". 531 The Firelan. i2 No. 1, Round th.le (-o'ncr.'i WILL SIIORTLY BE PUBL!ISIED. Lucille, Noralh Creina,.Grist to the Mill, L-adies' Battle, Matrimony, Love and Clharityl Object of Interest, Raffaelle the Reprolbate, Love and Loyalty, Cramondc Brig, Last Man, Who do they take me for, Foundling of the Forest, Forty and Fifty, Bengal Tiger, The Chaste Salute, The Parson's Nose, Yeung Scamp, Dumb Girl of Genoa, Nick of the H'oods, Betty Martin, Ella Rosenburg; Rifle Brigade, Little Jockey, Belle's Strat-agem, My Fellow Clerk, Dr. )ilworth Touch and Take, Advice to Husbands, Young Wife and Old Umbrella, Ietribufion, Actress of Padua, Adrienne, the Actress, Laughing Hyena, Captai.Kyd, Green Mountain Boy, Adopted Child, John Jones, The Spitfire, Wallace, The Lost Letter, Village Doctor, The Thinmble Ri Th Te Christening, Rural Felicity, King anud Comedian, Niclhol Nicickleby, Green Bushes, Flowers of the Forest, Norman Leslie, Anne Blake, Strathmore, &c., &c.. WM. V. SPENCER, PUBLISHER, [ jj? 128:WasJ^i/ii/o2,; Corner of Wafer St., Boston. (~- ~