“MAKE-UP” BOOK—HOW TO “ MAKE-UP. A practical game lir Amateurs, with Twenty-three Colored Illustrations. No. LXII. FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. OLD HEADS & YOUNG HEA RTS 21 Silas, IN FIVE ACTS. By DION BOURCICAULT. WITH THE STA3E BUSINESS, CAST OF CHABAO* TEES, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. NEW YORK SAMUEL FRENCH . PUBLISHER 26 "West 22d Street LONDON SAMUEL FRENCH TUBLISHEr S9 Strand If MAI£E-L T P BOX. Containing Rouge, Pearl Powder, Whiting, Mongolian, Ruddy Rouge, Vioiet Powder, Box and l’uff, Chrome, Blue, Burnt Cork, Pencils lor the eyelid », Spirit Gani, India Ink, Camel Hair Brushes, Hare’s Foot, Wool, Craped Hair, Cold Cream, Joining Paste, Mm* iat are Puffs, Scissors and Looking Ginss ; packed neatly m Strong Fancy Card-o Boxes, $4.00; Elegant Tin Cases, $5.00. r THE ABOVE ARTICLES TO BE HAD SEPARATELY. Por Prices, see Catalogue. FRENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA Price IS Cents each.—Bound Volumes $1.25. 9 10 11 VOL. I. 1 Ion 2 Fazio 3 The Lady of Lyons 4 Riehelieu 5 The Wife 6 The Honeymoon 7 The School for Scandal £ Money 'VOL. II. The Stranger Grandfather Whitehead Richard III 12 Lere’e Sacrifice IS The Gamester 14 A Cur* for the Heartache 15 The Hunchback 16 Don Ca?sar de Bazan VOL. HI. 17 The P.or Gentleman 18 Hamlet 19 Charles II 80 Venice Preserved 91 Piiarro 22 The Love Chase 23 Othello 84 Lend me Five Shillings VOL. IV. 25 Virginias 26 King of the Commons 27 London Assurance 28 The Rent Day 29 Two Gentlemen ofVerona 30 The Jealous Wife 31 The Rivals 82 Perfection VOL. V. [Debts 83 A New Way to Pay Old 34 Look Before You Leap 35 King John 36 Nervous Man 87 Damon and Pythias 38 Clandestine Marriage 39 William Teli 40 Day after the Wedding VOL. VI. 41 Speed the Plough 42 Romeo and Juliet 43 Feudal Times 44 Charles the Twelfth 4$ The Bride 46 The Follies of a Night 47 Iron Chest [Fair Lady 48 Faint Heart Never Won YOL. VII. 49 Road to Ruin 60 Macbeth 61 Temper 62 Evadne 63 Bertram 64 The Duenna . 66 Much Ado About Nothing 66The Critic VOL. VIII. 67 The Apostate 68 Twelfth Night 69 Brutus 60 Simpson & Co 61 Merchant of Venice 62 Old Heads&Young Hearts 63 Mountaineers [riage 64 Three Weeks after Mar- VOL. IX. 65 Love 66 As You Like It 67 The Elder Brother 68 Werner 69 Gisippus 70 Town and Country 71 King Lear 73 Blue Devils VOL. X. 73 Henry VIII 74 Married and Single .r 75 Henry IV 76 Paul Pry 77 Gny Mannerlng 78 Sweethearts and Wives 79 Serious Family 80 She Stoops to Conquer VOL. XI. 81 Julius Ca'sar 82 Vicar of Wakefield 83 Leap Year 84 The Catspaw 85 The Passing Cloud 86 Drunkard 87 Rob Roy 88 George Barnwell VOL. XII. 89 Ingomar 90 Sketches in India 91 Two Friends 9 ' Jane Shore 93 Corsican Brothers- 94 Mind your own Business 95 Writing on the Wall 96 Heir at Law VOL. XIII. 97 Soldier’s Daughter 9* Douglas 99 Marco Spada 109 Nature’s Nobleman 101 Sardannpalus 102 Civilization 103 The Robbers 104 Katharine and Petruchio VOL. XIV. 105 Game of Love 106 Midsummer Night’s 107 Ernestine [Dream 108 Rag Picker of Paris 109 Flying Dutchman 110 Hypocrite 111 Tberese 112 La Tour de Nesle VOL. XV. 113 Ireland As It Is 114 Sea of Ice 115 Seven Clerks 116 Game of Life 117 Forty Thieves 118 Bryan Boroihme 119 Romance and Reality 120 Ugolino VOL. XVI. 121 The Tempest 122 The Pilot 123 Carpenter of Rouen 1 .'4 King’s Rival 125 Little Treasure 126 Dombey and Son 127 Parents and Guardians 128 Jewess VOL. XVII. 129 Camille 130 Married Life 131 Wenlock of Wenlock 132 Rose of Ettrickvale 133 David Copperfield 134 Aline, or the Rose of 135 Pauline [Killarney 136 Jane Eyre VOL. XVIII. 137 Night and Morning 138 vEthiop 139 Three Guardsmen 140 Tom Cringle 141 Heuriefte, the Forsaken 142 Eustache Baudin 143 Ernest Mai travers 144 Bold Dragoons VOL. XIX. 145 Dred, or the Dismal [Swamp 146 Last Days of Pompeii 147 Esmeralda 148 Peter Wilkins 149 Ben the Boatswain 150 Jonathan Bradford 151 Retribution 152 Minerali VOL. XX. 153 French Spy 154 Wept of Wish-ton Wish 155 Evil Genius 156 Ben Bolt 157 Sailor of France 158 Red Mask 159 Life of an Actress 160 Wedding Day [Moscow VOL. XXI. 161 All’s Fair in Love 162 Hofer 163 Self 164 Cinderella 165 Phantom 166 Franklin t ___ 167 Tlie Gunmaker of 168 The Love of a Prince VOL. XXII. 169 Son of the Night 170 Rory O’More 171 Golden Eagle 172 Rienzi 173 Broken Sword 174 Rip Van Winkle 175 Isabelle 176 Heart of Mid Lothian VOL. XXIII. 177 Actress of Padua 178 Floating Beacon 179 Bride of Lammermoor 180 Cataract of the Ganges 181 Robber of the Rhine 182 School of Reform 183 Wandering Boys 184 Mazeppa VOL. XXIV. 185 Young New York 186 The Victims 187 Romance after Marriage 188 Brigand 189 Poor of New York 190 Ambrose Gwinett 191 Raymond and Agnes 192 Gambler’* Fate VOX.. XXV. 193 Father and Son 194 Massaniello 195 Sixteen String Jack 196 Youthful Queen 197 Skeleton Witness 198 Innkeeper of Abbeville 199 Miller and his Men 200 Aladdin VOL. XXVI. 1 201 Adrienne the Actress 202 Undine 203 Jesse Brown 204 Asmodeue 205 Mormons 20G Blanche of Brandywine 207 Viola 208 Deseret Deserted VOL. XXVII. 209 Americans in Paris 210 Victorine 211 Wizard of the Wave 212 Castle Spectre 213 Horse-shoe RobinSon 214Armand, Mrs. Mo watt 215 Fashion, Mrs. Mowatt 216 Glance at New York VOL. XXVIII. 217 Inconstant 218 Uncle Tom’s Cabin 219 Guide to the Stage 220 Veteran 221 Miller of New Jersey 222 Dark Hour before Dawn 223 Midsum’rNight’sDream [Laura Keene’s Edition 224 Art and Artifice VOL. XXIX. 225 Poor Young Man 226 Ossawattomie Brown 227 Pope of Rome 228 Oliver Twist 229 Pauvrette 230 Man in the Iron Mask 231 Knight of Arva 232 Moll Pitcher VOL. XXX. 233 Black Eyed Susan 234 Satan in Paris 235 Rosina Meadows [ess 236 West End, or Irish Heir- 237 Six Degrees of Crime 238 The Lady and the Devil 239 Avenger, or Moor of Sici- 240 Masks and Faces [ly {French s Standard Drama Continued on jd page of Cover.) VOL. XXXI. 241 Merry Wives of Wi 242 Mary’s Birthday 243 Shandy Maguire 244 Wild Oats 245 Michael Erie ‘.45 Idiot Witness 247 Willow Copse 248 People’s Lawyer VOL. XXXII. 249 The Boy Martyrs 250 Lucretia Borgia 251 Surgeon of Paris 252 Patrician’s Daughte 253 Shoemaker of Toulo 254 Momentous Questioi 255 Love and Loyalty 256 Robber’s Wife VOL. XXXIII. 257 Dumb Girl of Genoa 258 Wreck Ashore 259 Clari 260 Rural Felicity 261 Wallace 262 Madelaine 263 The Fireman 264 Grist to the Mill VOL. XXXIV. 265 Two Loves and a Lif 266 Annie Blake 267 Steward 268 Captain Kyd 269 Nick of the Woods 210 Marble Heart 271 Second Love 272 Dream at Sea VOL. XXXV. 273 Breach of Promise 274 Review 275 Lady of the Lake 276 Still Water Runs Dei 277 The Scholar 278 Helping Hands 279 Faust and Marguerite 280 Last Man vol. xxxvr. 281 Belle’s Stratagem 282 Old and Y’oung 283 Raffaella 284 Ruth Oakley 285 British Slave 286 A Life’s Ransom 287 Giralda 288 Time Tries All VOL. XXXVII. 289 Ella Rosenburg 290 Warlock of the Glen 291 Zelina 292 Beatrice ' 293 N eighbor Jackwood 294 Wonder 295 Robert Emmet 296 Green Bushes VOL. XXXVIII. 297 Flowers of the Forest 298 A Bachelor of Arts 299 The Midnight Banqut 300 Husband of an Hour 301 Love’s Labor Lost 302 Naiad Queen 303 Caprice 304 Cradle of Libertv VOL. XXXIX. 305 The Lost Ship 306 Country Squire 307 Fraud and its Victims) 308 Putnam 309 King and Deserter 310 La Fiammina 311 A Hard Struggle 312 Gwinnette Vaughan VOL. XL. 313 The Love Knot [Ju< 314 Lavater, or Not a I 315 The Noble Heart 316 Coriolanus 317 The Winter’s Tale 318 Eveleen Wilson 319 Ivanhoe 320 Jonathan in England SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22 d Street, New York City. New etnd Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request. f-HENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA No. LXII. OLD HEADS & YOUNG HEARTS 21 ®omci>g IN FIVE ACTS- BY DION BOCJRC1CAULT WITH TUB 8TAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS. COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. NEW YORK SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 26 West 22 D Street LONDON SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 8 g, Strand CAST OF CHARACTERS Haymarket, 1644. Walnut stPhiL, 1847. Broadway , 1848 Earl of Pompion ... Mr. Tilbury Mr. A’Becket Mr. D. C. Andersoi Lord Roebuck . “ H. Holl “ Smith “ Dawson Colonel Rocket..... “ Strickland “ Spear “ Vach£ Littleton Coke . “ C. Mathews “ Wheatly “ Lester Tom Coke . “ Webster “ Richinge “ Fleming Jesse Rural .. “ W, Farren “ R. Blake “ R. Blake Bob . “ Buckstone “ Chapman “ lladaway Stripe ... “ T. F. Mathews “ Eberle “ G. Chapman Russell . “ Carle “ Huckurt “ Gallot Countess of Pompion Mrs. W. Clifford Mrs. Blake Mrs. Winstanley Lady Alice .Madame Vestris Miss S. Cushman Miss Wallack Mitt Rocket .Miss Julia Bennett Mrs. Rogers Mrs. Sergeant COSTUMES. The Costumes are those of the present day . EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door, 8. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door RELATIVE POSITIONS. R., means Right; L., Left; C., Centre; R. C., Right of Centrt, L. C., Left of Centre. Pastaget marked with Inverted Commas are usually emitted in the Representation. EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. Borcicault maybe considered to be the originator cf what has been very aptly designated as the “ Upholstery School ofCoMEDT,” in which the decorations and novel effects derivable lrom the appoint¬ ments and accessories, which modern improvement has introduced on the stage, form the prominent features of the piece. That the comedies of this author owe much of their success to these novel in¬ troductions, cannot be denied, but Bor^cault also possesses the talent of infusing into his compositions a sparkling vivacity of dia¬ logue, a neatness in the construction of his plot, a knowledge of cha racter, drawn from a close observance of the follies and vices of our period, and a happy skill in the management of his incidents and situations; and by these united qualifications, he has succeeded hi producing two or three comedies, that never fail to amuse and attrsv; audiences, aided as they are by the adornments of costly stage appoint nents. The chief defect, we consider, in all Bor^icault’s productions, is th itter heartlessness that pervade his pictures of modern manners. His epigrammatic wit, and his polished keenness of satire, seem to revel _n representing the most selfish characteristics of modern fashionable society. The exclusiveness of this society, perhaps, exposes it to the censure of the satirist; and the Dramatic writer, whose province it is to “ shoot folly as it flies,” may be pardoned if he faithfully represents the classes, from which he draws the originals of his fictitious crea¬ tions. He may draw from these equivocal fountains large draughts of wit and humour, and he may excite the risibilities of his audiences with displays of his peculiar genius: but we humbly conceive that the brightest flashos of his wit, will be wanting in that other essential element of true Dramatic wit—Poetry, while the moral influence of such exhibitions of real life, in a Dramatic form, is deleterious in its effects on an audience. We are not so visionary in our theories as tc look to the stage for any high code of morals, although we believe such might be its legitimate province; yet we contend that the stage is a school where a pure and correct taste may be cultivated; and IV EDITORIAL INTRODUCT1 >N. we hold it to be a perversion of good taste, to present li/e as being one unbroken link of heartless frivolity and polished insincerity, as Bonjicault delights in picturing it. Nor can we admit he fidelity of his portraits of character, amusing as we confess tley are in the representation. They seem rather to owe their existence to the ex n-igerated delineations with which modern fiction abounds; the cha¬ racters are, in fact, copies from fashionable novels, and not transcripts from nature. The stage has lost its original influence over the intel¬ lectual and the fashionable classes, so that its power for good or evil has become nearly extinct. The mass of play-goers view the enter¬ tainment derivable from the theatre as a mere amusement, a relaxa¬ tion from daily toil, and prescribed duty; and the author that can most effectually interest, amuse, or excite an audience for the pass¬ ing hour, becomes the popular idol of the day. We have no desire to impeach the taste of the public, but we do object to men of genius fostering the frivolous spirit of the age, and, what is more reprehen¬ sible, disseminating through the powerful instrumentality of the Drama, a false code of morals, calculated to undermine all the social virtues of life. We look upon “ Old Heads and Young Hearts” to be the most open > censure, of any of Bor^icault’s productions. The leading charac- era are nearly all of them high drawn satires on humanity. Littleton Coke is a mere blast man of fashion, a spendthrift, a sneerer, and a scoffer; even his love for Lady Alice Hawthorne is but a com¬ pound of selfishness and cupidity; and her witty ladyship is but a slight remove from a heartless and frivolous coquette, The British Peerage, we trust, could never have furnished the pro- lotypes of Lord and Lady Pompion ; and Col. Rocket is too ignorant and too Coarse to be considered as even slightly to resemble any officer of rank, that was ever gazetted in the army list. Lord Roebuck is an inanity, save in his disregard of filial duty; on this point he bears the infallible brand of the author. Miss Rocket is a fitting counterpart of her lover, and Bob is the stereotyped lying, impudent valet of the stage, with all the heartlessness and selfishness of his master, which he wears as he does the second-hand clothes that be¬ come his perquisites. Apart from this group stand out Tom Coke and Jesse Rural; they are intrusted with the sentiment of the remedy, or, rather, they are the author’s exponents of the morality of the piece. Tom is made a sort of untutored country boor, is crossed in his affections, and jeered at by his fashionable spendthrift of a brother; and Rural is a simple-hearted aged clergymar, on whom all the plot* EDITORIAL INTROD( /T10N. f And counterplots of the comedy is made to revolve; he is l lited and ridiculed through five acts for the amusement of the audience, and is at last driven almost to madness, to heighten the effect ol the final climax. Such a clergyman as Jesse Rural is depicted, should never have been selected for exhibition on the stage, under the degrading cir cumstances Borcjicault has thought fit to introduce him. > But with all these exceptionable points in this comedy, it is popular ai an acting play. The language is sprightly, witty, and pointed, the inci dents are highly dramatic, and the constant succession of equivoquie keep interest alive from the rising to the falling of the curtain. “ Old Heads and Young Hearts” has been peculiarly successful in this country, chiefly from the admirable personation of Jesse Rural by Mr. W. R. Blake, the present manager of the Broadway Theatre. This gentleman had acquired a wide-spread celebrity in Philadelphia and Baltimore, for his inimitable performance of the part; and on his assuming the stage management of the Broadway, the comedy was revived with every attention to its details, and had a continuous run of sixteen nights, to crowded and delighted audiences. Mr. Blake’s embodiment of Jesse Rural, may be classed among the finest histrionic efforts now extant upon the stage. It is, indeed, one of those truthful pieces of acting, in which the artist is almost idend fied with trie character he represents. We cannot corceive anything more true to nature, both w appearance and acting, than is the per bo nation of this character in the hands of Mr. Blake H Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill https://archive.org/details/oldheadsyounghea00bouc_1 OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS. ACT I. Scene I.— The Temple. The Interior of Littleton Coke's Chambers , meagrely furnished. Coke is discovered at breakfast , reading the paper. Bob, cleaning a Meer- schaum, r. Lit. [Reads.] Express from China—um-um—police —um—fashionable arrivals. Ha !—at Mivart’s, Lord Charles Roebuck, from Paris—my schoolfellow and col¬ lege chum—Derhaps he has written to me—Bob ! Bob. Sir. 1 Lit. Any papers for me this morning ? Bob. Yes, sir; one for the income tax. Lit. Do we pay that, Bob? Bob. No, sir, I wish we did. Lit. (l.) [ Rising, and coming forward.] How comes it, that during five years’ hard labour at the bar, I never have had any thing to do ? Bob. Yes, sir; law is quite as unprofitable to us now, ns it would be to our clients, if we had any. Lit. Have I not angled daily in Westminster Hall? Bob. Whiio I carried after you a red bag, fat with you unpaid bills, like a landing net. Lit. Without a nibble.— [Half apart.] I could almtj x repent that nature had not left me in the insignificance of my birth. What right had the son of a hard-work mg Yorkshire coal-owner to flaunt it at Eton and Oxford, and all because my mother, before my birth, dreamed of a woolsack, and so would call me Littleton—and yet. while my suppers and stables were declared unique— when tufted lordlings exchanged Christian names with me ] though*—ha!- -I see my error—mistook my mo- 8 OLD HEAJS [Act ney for myself—why was I given so keen a sense for en¬ joyment, anti so limited a power of gratifying it ? Bob. But your father, at his death, sir, left you 700Z. a-year. Lit. To support 7000 appetites he bequeathed me at my birth; so, unfortunately, through life my wants have ever exceeded my means. Bob. Ah, sir, but wants ai'e the servants of genius. Lit. Say its masters, rather. Bob. Your brother in Yorkshire is rich. Lit. Thanks to ray extravagance that ma,de him so; I ha/e mortgaged every acre of my land to him. Bob. If you were to write to him, sir. Lit. I have done so; \ Postman’s knock, l.] there’s the tnswer. [Exit, Bob, l.] It was my last resource. Re-enter Bob, l. Bob. [ Weighing the letter.] It feels promising, sir. Lit. j Opens and reads.] “ Dear brother Littleton—Your favour of the 2\st ultimo has duly come to hand — am most happy to find you have not forgot Sykes Hall, and those in it. Tabby sends her love, and the Rev. Mr. Rural his blessing—the collieries win fairly — corn is at 505. and mut¬ ton is looking up ; and I am your affectionate brother , “ Thomas Coke.” Bob. Lord, sir ! Lit. “ Postscript .— As to your debts, I can neither afford to give champagne suppers to your friends, nor pay for the spavined horses they have to sell you ; had you moderated your vanity in the entertainment of a pack of spunging spendthrifts, you had not now to stoop your pride to a set of honest tradesmen .” [ Tears up the letter .1 I deserved it: (ot him keep his gold. Bob. I hey say he is genercus enough on occasion. Lit. Oh, yes! [Bitterly .] Builds charity schools and endows lying-in hospitals, while his own flesh and blood may rot in a jail ! Curse his generosity ! his is all news¬ paper charity and mouth virtue. Yes, 1 will apply to my friend : Bob, did you take that note to Lord St. James ? Bob. \ es, sir; I found him at Mr. Deuceace’s. Lit. [Half apart.] It was but for 20 1. Well, where is his answer ] SCF.tfF l.j ANTI Y(7 J NG H KARTS. 9 Bob. He sent down h’s compliments, tl at ne was got e to Florence. hit. The paltry—here’s a fellow, now, who used tc swallow my dinners and jokes in sunny times, to take away at the first post. Bob. Yes, sir, swallows always were summer bird's. Lit. No impertinence ! [A double knock , l. Bob. [ Chopfalien.] Are you at home, sir? Lit. Yes. [Exit. Bob , L.j Home ! mine is a sarcasm on tha word. Re-enter Bob, l. Bob. Lord Charles Roebuck, sir. f Bob retires up, l. Enter Lord Charles Roebuck, l. and crosses to c. Lit. Charles, my dear fellow. [Shaking his hand. Roe. The same as ever—I can almost believe myself at college again—and Bob, too— Bob. Yes, my lord, promoted from gyp to lawyer’s clerk. Roe. It seems but a month ago since I roasted you for courting my bed-maker—do you remember? Bob. Remember ! your lordship tied me along a form before the fire, weA*t oui, and forgot me. Roe. You found that night’s roasting a cure for love, eh ? Well, I’ll remember you this time : there is a plaster for your [Gives him a note,] sore memory—vanish ! Bob. Nevei mind, you may want me again if you like [ Looks at money — exit, L. I.it. Why, your long residence in Pans has transmuted you from a model for young England, into the type of jeune Fran '. Some time since we parted at Alina Ma ter. Roe. Three years; I started immediately for Paris, where my brother was ambassador plenipotentiary; my father wished me to graduate in diplomacy under his able surveillance. Lit. And your respected sire, the Home Secretary ? Roe. L have not seen the Earl since my return. Lit. How ? • Roc No ! to be candid with you, I’m in a scrape, so J naturally hastened to you. 10 OLD HEADS [Act l Lit. i have, at your service, a stock of advice, gene¬ rously subscribed by my friends when I revealed to them the bottom of my purse—proceed. Roc. The most ancient of maladies. Lit. Oh, love 1 Roe. To distraction. Lit. How? vulgarly, with a woman—or fashionably, with yourself? Roe. Listen and judge. Ten days ago, as, in obedience to my father’s mandate, I was on my route from Paris— my chariot was arrested on the Dover Road, by a spill illustrated with oaths and screams. Lit. Heroics—by Jove ! Roe. Post-boy whipping—horses kicking—old gentle¬ men cursing—young lady screaming and fainting alter nately. Lit. Lucky dog! Roc. I disengaged the senseless fair, threw off her bon net, and unveiled a face—oh, Coke, such a face ! she gasped for breath. Lit. You lent her some of yours ? Roc. I did—but she relapsed again. Lit. Naturally—so you kept her alive by repeated ap plication ? Roe. v’Till her father came up. Lit. She recovered, then ? Roc. Immediately—he thanked me, tucked my angel under his arm, they re-entered the righted vehicle, and drove on. Lit. Is that all ? Roc. Forbid it, Venus—no—with incredible trouble 1 traced them. The father—the dragon who guards this Hesperian fruit, is art old East-Indian Colonel, as proud as Lucifer, and as hot as his dominions—I hovered round the house for a week. Lit. Successfully ? Roc. I saw her once for a second at the back garden gate. Lit. To speak to her ? Roe. T hadn’t time. Lit No?—Oh! Rce. No. So I gave her a kiss— Scene I ] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 11 Lit. Excelle.it economy ! and her name— Roe. Is Rocket—her father, an eccentric old bully, turns his house into a barrack—mounts guard at the hall- door—the poor girl can’t move without a sentiy, and 1 believe her lady’s maid is an old one-eyed corporal of at tillery. Lit. Is she rich 1 Roe. She is fair. Lit. Possibly—a thing to be admired in a danscuse or a friend’s wife; but in the matrimonial stocks, done on our Western ’change, the fairest hue we recognise is yellow Roe. Does virtue go for nothing 1 Lit. Oh! no; character is indispensable to servant maids, but virtue, as a word, is obsolete ; we have, indeed, a French one like it, vcrtu, yes—ladies of certu might sig¬ nify articles of rarity. Roe. Does the lexicon of fashion, then, abjure the sense 1 Lit. Certainly not; virtue signifies the strength in a bottle of salts. Roe. And vice ! Lit. A—a fault in horses. Roe. And religion ? Lit. A pew in a fashionable church! Hoe. So ’twould appear that beauty is invested in bank tock ; grace consolidated with the landed interests; while reputation fluctuates with the three and a half pe* cents. Lit.* Exactly ; gold is the Medean bath of youth, pos¬ sessing also a magnetic attraction for every cardinal vir¬ tue, while all the plagues of Egypt are shut up in one English word, and that is poverty; the exhibition of which, like that of the Gforgon’s head, turns the heaits of your dearest friends to stone. Roe. Can May Fair legislation so repeal the laws of na¬ ture 1 by Jove ! the West end at last will cut the sun be¬ cause it rises in the east, and live by wax light Lit. You, perhaps, may never see the world as I do, Charles, because I am poor; but a rich man s v ew of life is bounded by his parasites—he feels but through hi glove, and thinks all things are soft. Rte. Then I am lost, for my angel is pennyless. 12 OL) HEADS , Act ) Lit.. Right, angels are the only tint gs who can ic poor and lovely ; but to marry thus before you have given the worshipful company of mamma brokers a chance, is against all rule. Roe. Would you have me marry a thing whose mind is bounded by her bonnet, a soul perfumed with foreign sentiment—as guiltless of old English virtues as her tongue is of their native names. No! I’ll have a heart that beats with blood—a cheek that’s red with it—and be no slave :>f such a thing of scent and paint—but strike one blow for love and human nature. Lit. Oh, you luxurious dog! \Shaking Jus hand.] Oh —h ! if 1 could only afford to marry a woman instead of a banker’s account—but what obstacles oppose your epi¬ curean intentions towards Miss Rocket? Roe. 1 hear my father intends for me the double honour of a seat in the house, and a wife—my cousin, Alice, the wealthy young widow of Lord George Hawthorn. Lit. Lady Alice—who shook the very apathy of the opera last week, by demanding to be balloted into the omnibus box ! Roe. Such a wife—why do they not give her a com¬ mission in the blues, at once ? Lit. She flashed into our fashionable system like a new comet, whose eccentricity defied all known law, and quickly drew after her a train that obliterated all the con¬ stellations of St. James’s, and the heavenly bodies of May fair. Roe. You know her, then? . Lit. A Polka acquaintanceship! I've been introduced o her waist;—we know each other in the house of our mutual friends—but of what use can I be here ? Roe. The greatest. My father has arranged my no¬ mination for Closeborough, I shall be obliged to advocate uis political principles in the house, to which party old Rocket is a virulent opponent. Lit. What’s to be done ? Roe. Oppose my father—and thus—oblige me by op¬ posing my election, and I will answer for your success. “ Lit. Ha ! ha ! help me to your borough—why, you “ rascal, would you make the Home Secretary purchase ‘in a talented member for the opposition? SCEI»E I.J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 13 “ Roe. Consent.” Lit. With all my heart; I see but one obstacle —the qualification ! Roe The thiee hundred a-year—that’s true—-stay— Coke, at Eton, you were considered a fellow of great pluck. Lit. You flatter. Roe. You look tenacious of life. Lit. Ha ! Roe. I’ll make you a present of the widow. Lit. Lady Alice ? Roe. If she have not, ere this, volunteered to Morocco Dr Macao. Lit. Charles, to oblige you I accept the borough—fo your sake I’ll encounter the widow and the five thousand a-year. Bob rushes in , l. Boh. Sir—sir—they are come— Lit. They—who? Bob. Two of the fattest clients, sir, you ever saw. Lit. Clients—you are mad, or a fool. Boh. Neither, sir—but I think they are both. Lit. Stay—come here. Bob—[ Boh crosses to Little'• ton,] what are they like ? Bob. One, sir, is a very respectable old gentleman in black, white hair— Lit. Scriven, the attorney and money lender. 1 he other ? Boh. A responsible—sort of—sporting character. Lit. Craft, the bailiff—I’m ruined ! [Cresses to l. Roe. What’s the debt ? perhaps I— Lit. No, Charles—to be honest with you—my hopes are too slender to bear an obligation. I’m as low in pride, now, as I am in pocket, and cannot afford to turn a friend into a creditor. Boh. They are just on this landing, sir. Roe Come with me. I can offer you a room at my father's ’till your election is over. Bob. Step inside, sir; while they come in, you can go out by the other door. Lit. Farewell, fond visions of the woolsack : Bob, givfl up my chattels, let them take possession. 14 OLD HEADS i Kcr 1 Bob. All right, sir; a table, two chairs, a bed, and a boot-jack. [Exeunt at the back, c.. followed by Bob. After a pause , knocking is heard , l. Enter Rural, l. Rur. Littleton! Littleton! Litt — eh! — bless me, no- Dody ! Tom, come in. Enter Tom Coke, l. Tom. I’m here, ministei ; so these be brother Little¬ ton’s chambers—well, they don’t look prodigal, neither. Rur. No, no, but where is he ? Tom. And they ca’ this the Temple, eh ? It ’ll be moire loike a coil hoile aboove ground than owt else a knaw ; well, minister, you would coome up to town wi’ me ; here we are—what next ? Rur. My dear boy, I know that you feel an old man like me a burthen on you—now you are a great man, a member of parliament. Tom. That’s onkind of you, minister, and you’re not given to say cruel things; why, isn’t your face the very first thing in the world I can remember ? haven’t you been a father to us since we were left orphans ? a bur¬ then ! that’s the hardest word you spoke since you taught us catechesm wi brother Littleton sitting on one knee and I on t’oother. Rur. Think of that, Tom, do; and to see you united again is my prayer. Torrt. But wha couldn’t yaw wait until we had set down quietly in the Earl of Pompion’s house, according to his invitation? ’Twas main kind of him, minister; he’s the Home Secretary, and the next post after I was made member o’ Parliament, brought me a hearty invitation *o his house : that’s hospitality. Rur. But where is Littleton ? Tom. I’ll tell ye :—in bed, sleeping off his last night’s debaucn, jr wi’ flushed and haggard cheek, still leaning over the gambling table. Note.— The language used by Tom Coke is written in a broad dialect, to distin¬ guish the character, but should be acted wiih an accent only; and in ProvinciaJ Theatres, sho lid not be giveD to the gentleman performing Yorkshiremen, but to tha eccentric comedian. §CEKE I.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 15 Rur. No, Tom, no! my little pupil, my chid! a gum bier!—no ! he was wild, sensitive, but you know he was never— Tom. I know no more than this—I remember him, the rapture of my poor mother, the hope of my father—and you, you always loved him best. Rur. Tom, Tom, don’t reproach me ! Tom. Reproach i nay, not so—Nature gave him a great mind, me only an honest one. He was born for greater things than I, and so he had all that wealth could lavish on him—I didn’t grudge it him—he fed from the silver plate, I from the wooden platter—I cared nuaw’t for that, . but at his grand school, w T hy did he find the houses of my lord this, and marquis that, more welcome than his own home ? I don’t reproach, mind—but—but when our mo¬ ther died I stood alone by her—and her last breath pray¬ ed for him. I wasn’t jealous, minister ; but in my father’s will, the part that gave me my inheritance was writ in the hard hand of a lawyer’s clerk, while the gift to Lit¬ tleton, with a blessing, was penned by the trembling fin¬ gers of my father, and blotted wi’ his tears. I’ve tried to hate him. Rur. Tom ! Tom. I did, but I couldn’t. The same strange love you all showed for him, 1 shared wi’ you—a’most against ma will—and when those short heartless letters would come, containing nowt but calls for money—money—mo¬ ney—I could ha’ freely given ten times what I lent, foi but four words of heart’s blood in ’em, if ’twor but “ God bless ye, Tom.” Rur. And he will say so when he sees you—he will.— Think what a dear child he was—so clinging, affectionate, innocent. [Spoken very affectionately. Tom. Ye forget, that was fifteen years ago. Rur. Was it?—bless me—so it was—but you remem- oer how generous, and kind, and wild he was—how I do¬ ted on the trouble he used to give me ; and how clever—- quite overpov'ered my faculties. I could never teach him anything but cat’s cradle. Re-enter Bob, c. d. f. 01 j. here is his servant. [Bob advances, whistling, and sits on the table l. OLD HEALS l Act 1 ifi Tom. Where be thy measter, lad ? Bob. Beyond your clutches, vampire oh, you mav staie ! Tom. What dost mean ? Bob. Why, that the paltry debt I suppose you come to sue for, will be paid. Tom. My debt? lie knows me, then? Bob. Unhappily, he does. Tom. Is this his welcome when a come to tak him by the hand ? Bob. By the collar, you mean—oh, there, seize—seize •—your sort don’t refuse even two-pence in the pound. Tom. This is too much. [Attempts to get at Bob. Rur. Stop, don’t be rash ! let me see the boy. [ Crosses to c., and puts on his spectacles.] My good boy, I’m sure you will tell me where your master is. [Looking Bob in the fact affectionately. Bob. Oh, you precious old rascal! Rur. Good gracious ! [Rural starts. Bob. Arn’t you ashamed of yourself? Tom. Let me at him. Rur. [Holding Tom.] No! no! Tom, I insist. Bob. I say it again—you are vampires, leeches, and, though I am nothing but a poor servant, before 1 would do a day’s work like this, I’d see all the gains your trade has ever wrenched from misery sunk to the bottom of the sea —ach ! [Exit, slamming the door , l. Tom. Well, minister, ar’t satisfied now ? Rur. He never could intend— lorn. Intend—didn’t he know us—he spoke of my debt—oh, ’twas done by his orders—let us go. [ Crosses to l. Rur. He called me an old rascal—and asked me if I wasn’t ashamed of myself—ashamed of—coming. Tom. Come, come, your errand’s over—forget him. Rur. lo me—to me—my hopes—my fond, fond hopes of seeing him again—of reconciling—of—oh, Tom ! Tom. And I, too—but no matter—I loos him off fbi ever—you shall return to-day to Yorkshire. Rur. No, not yet—there’s some—some mistake—for¬ give him. lorn. I cared nowt for what he said o’ me, but to in* fiooll you, his old friend, his father! ftOCWE I 1 AND YOUNG HEARTS. 17 Rur Yus —but he could not mean to—to • Tom. Why, dommed if ye beant crying. The 'ilium —coom—don’, take on so—the—the— Rur. No—never mind. Tom. I wouldn’t-—if I could only get one crack at his poll, I’d forgive him Rur. Don t be vi dent. I can’t—I won’t beheve my ears against my heai-t I»H see him—I’ll talk to him as 1 use ^* ^ [Crosses , r. Tom. The heartier reprobate. Rur. [Sternly.] To* \ Til not allow you to speak so of your little brother. Tom. Nay, ’taint baA enough, that’s sure. Rur. God bless me i th^re—your violence has made me swear—I declare I shall hi* angry: now, my dear Tom— if you will only leave it ah t ■> me, and have patience, you will see that I am right. [ Going, f^Powed by Tom grumbling. Tom. Go on—defend him pvvu-— Rur. If only you would be n«i't Tom. T’ould man’s getting cru^y I’m thinking. Rur. And have patience—now mPv a little patience. [Exeunt, l ., Rural crying and wr \ *vlating, followed by Tom , grumbling. i END OP ACT I. ACT II. Scene \.—Lady Pompion y s 3oudoir.—D*o n \ t d *v- Ara¬ besque, furnished very richly in buhl and wareueteme. divans, prideux, causeuses, bergeres and dormeuses, co¬ vered in chintz ; tambour frame , and work tables — or • namental writing table—^alabaster French clock—Indian screen, fyc. Lady Pompion discovered reclining on a beigere, r., with her feet shawled on an Ottoman, and a Spaniel in her lap. Lady P. [ Yawning and closing a book.] Really, parlia¬ ment ought to do something for that dear v reature, Eugene Sue. I 11 speak to the Earl about it ! [ S *rikes a ong. 18 OLD HEADS [Act II Enter a richly liveried Servant, L. Has Willis sent out those invitations'? Ser. Yes, my lady. Lady P. 1 am not at home this morning to any one. Ser. Lord Charles Roebuck, my lady, is expected every moment. Lady P. Oh, true ! Charles does arrive to-day from Paris : well, tell him the number of my box at the Opera, and my hour in the ring. I dare say we shall meet—my nerves are not equal to receiving him now. [Loud and pe¬ culiar knock.] Good heavens! can that be he ? Ser. No, my lady ! that is lady Alice Hawthorn’s tiger. Lady P. I’m.not at home—I could never survive that girl an hour. Enter Lady Alice Hawthorn, l. v c 1 J ' J Lady A. Then prepare to die, my dear aunt, for here I am for the day—ha! ha! [To the Servant.] Tell my groom to bring my carriage at nine. [ To Lady Pompion.] You will excuse my leaving your table at so early an hour, but T never miss the last act of the Barbie re. Lady P. My head—my head—the salts—the restora¬ tives. Lady A. Tom—bring the liqueur case. [ Exit Servant , l.] Ha ! ha ! well, my dear, I heard of Charley’s arrival, so I have come to dine with you—tell me, what is he like ? —partiality apart—is he worth making love to ? Lady P. Charles has not yet arrived home. Lady A. Why, I saw, by the Post, that he arrived in town last night. Lady P. Indeed ! ah ! well !—he might as well have cent a card. Lady A. A card ! has he not rattled you up at four in the morning—broken in your knocker panel, and pulled up the bell by the roots? Hasn’t he dislocated your wrist and kissed you into an asthma ? hasn’t— Lady P. Lady Alice, my son has not the manners of Abdel-Kader to take my establishment by such a sur¬ prise, and I trustee always leaves bells and knockers to the servants. had\ A. Does he? then Charley’s occupation’s gone SCEJTE I.J AND YOLNG HEARTS. i9 indeed. But apropos, Georgy ; what fun I had with your old Earl last night at Almack’s—ha ! ha ! ha ! Lady P. My old Earl! Lady A. He came in, thawed with a decent dinner; the premier’s Steinburg had given the cadavre ? bloom • ’pon my life he talked impudence to me. Lady P. The Earl of Pompion ! Lady A. It would have delighted you to watch such signs of restored animation. A knot of politicians nad nearly secured him—politics at Almack’s—I darted in in amongst them, crying “treason,” seized Pompey him¬ self, and whirled him into the most delirious polka. \LLums a polka . Lady P. A polka ! Lady A. Toe and heel, as Pm a widow and a sinner, we threw Jullien into extacies, till I restored the Home Secretary to his>party, a wiser and a better man. Enter Lord Pompion, c., from l. down l. Didn’t I, Pompey ] Lord P. Lady Alice, et tons yours gale, where’s my coun tess ? Lady A. Not up yet, look ! [Points to Lady Pompion , who is pulling her Spaniel’s ears. J or stay, she is making Bichon’s toilette. Lord P. I forgot to mention that I expect Mr. Coke, of Yorkshire, on a visit: he has lately been returned foi Ashby, and I want his interest and a loan to secure Charles for Closeboi'ough—we must show him attention. Lady P. Very vrell write down his name, and I \1 send it to the housekeeper. Lady A. Long live old English nospitality ! Lord P. He has some of his family with him. Lady P. They can have the britzska, and you muet manage something for their Opera—leave it to the house¬ keeper. Lady A. Talking of visitors, I have invited a couple t you. Lady P. To us ! Lady A. Yes—Colonel Rocket and his daughter old friends of mine—my honhonniere in Brook Street only lolds tne and my plagues, but, fortunately, having a card 20 OLP HEAPS (Act (l of yours in my case, 1 thought how glad you’d he. I men¬ tioned six as your dinner hour. Don’t be anxious-—they'll be here in a minute. Lord P. How rash—he may be of the opposition. Lady A. An East India Director, with two borouphs r Aside ] Rabbit ones. Lord P. Is the girl presentable ? Lady A. Met them at Devonshire House— Lord P. T„wo boroughs! my dear Alice, you are rash, •but you mean well. Lady P. Of course I do—only think of two boroughs, Pompey. [ Aside.} A half-pay colonel, with less interest than a treasury clerk, but a glorious old fellow. I’ll bet he’ll kiss the Countess in a week—what fun ! [Lady Alice and Lord Pomjnon retire up stage, c. Enter a Servant, l. « Ser. Lord Charles Roebuck. Enter Roebuck, followed by Littleton Coke, l. Roe. My dearest mother! Lady P. Ah ! Charles, how d’ye do, dear? [ Lifts hei eye-glass. ] Bless me, how brown you’re grown—for hea¬ ven’s sake, take care of Bichon, there. [ Shakes his hand over the dog. J Have you brought me the Eau de Cologne ? Roe. Yes, everything—but, my dear mother— Lady P. Dear—how old he looks for a son of mine. Lord P. But undoubtedly improved— [Advances on the l. Roe. My dear father, forgive me ! [Offering both his hands. Lord P. [Regarding him.\ A Pompion, decidedly. Lady P. Tell me, Charles, your Italian is Roman—and —ah ! I see you wear Bouquet du Roi. I understand that esprit, d ’ Isabella was the court scent at the Tuilleries, just now. Lord P. Of course your present appearance is the re¬ mains of a diplomatic compliment to the Court of Versail les—very judicious— Lady P. I trust, Charles, you have picked up no foreign immoralities—I mean, you go to church sometimes; w have a pew at St. George’s—and, apropos, have glace silks gone out yet, in Faris ? Scene I.] AND ?OUNG HEARTS. 21 Roe. Really, dearest mother, I didn’t notice. Lady P. Ah ! boys are so thoughtless. Lord P. You don’t make yourself remarkable in dress or equipage, Charles? Lady P. I hope you have no 'penchant for liaisons wit), public people or unmarried women, dear? Lord P. Every notoriety, which is not political, is hurt¬ ful. Lady P. I trust you don’t swear, Charles—I mean in English ; and excuse the anxiety of a mother—you con¬ tinue to use the almond paste I wrote to you about ? Lord P. Apropos—you’ll find in my room a list of the doubtful ones of our party, so that you may know where to lose your money, at Crockford’s—of course, you will not enter any of the lower gaming clubs—and, by the bye —be cool to Vernon. Roe. My dear father—my schoolfellow, Dick Vernon, once saved my life. Lord P. Possibly—but he voted against us on the Bar- badoes Bill, and he has talked of conscientious principles, and in presence of the Premier—in short—he was omit¬ ted in the Premier’s dinner yesterday—of course, you speak German ? Lady P . Do you bet? Lady A. Do you Polk? Roe. Blest voice—surely—it is— Lady A. Your cousin Alice—how are you, Charley, f He hesitates .] all right—go on— [Roe. crosses to her. J I’m human nature ! [He kisses he What’s your friend’s name? we are acquainted, 1 know,—but I can’t recollect who he is ! Roe. [Aside.] Coke—1 had almost forgetten him—what can he think of my cold reception; how frigidly tlev wih receive him—I am fairly ashamed to— [Brings Coke down on the l. c.] My lord and lady, mother, allow me, Mr. Coke. Lord P. Coke! of Yorkshire ? [Crosses to Littleten. Lit. Yes. Lord P. Ashby? Lit. The same. Lord P. [Heartily.] My dear sir, Pm delighted to see* you! [Shaking him by both hands.] delighted ! this is an 22 OLD HEADS Act U t. unexpected pleasure, to find in you a frierd of my son’s allow me—the Countess—Mr. Coke, of Ashby. Lady A. Mr. Coke, of Ashby ! Take care of Bichon ha! ha! Roc. Mr. Coke—Lady Alice Hawthorn, with whom the whole world is in love. Lady A. Speak for yourself, sir. [Speaks aside with Coke.—Lady Pompion sounds a gong , and a Servant enters , l., who unwraps her feet and wraps the dog in the shawl. Lord P. You will excuse me, Mr. Coke—the business of the nation—till dinner, eh? sans adieu! [Shakes his hand.] Charles, I can spare you a moment; follow me to my study. [Crosses, l., and exit. Lady A. Adieu, Charles ! au plaisir, Mr. Poke—by, by, Alice. Lady A. Adieu, Bichon. [Exit Lady Pompion, r., followed by the Servant car * rying the dog. Roe. What can this mean? Coke received with such fervour—and this—this is my return, after three years’ absence! well! [Going, l. Lady A. (r.) I say, Charley, are glace silks out in Paris ? Roe. By heaven ! Lady A. Ah ! ah ! 1 hope you don’t swear—I mean in English! ah! ah! ah! [Exit Roebuck, l. — Aside.] Sol a pair of recruits to my staff! LiR [Aside.] And this glorious creature is the deadly widow whom Roebuck gives up without a sigh. [A pause. Jjady A. Well, Mr. Coke, if you have nothing droll to eay, give us your maiden speech; on what question do you come out. Lit. To love, or not to love ! Jjady A. I’ll settle that—to love—car ied, eh ? Jjit. Without a division. [Kisses her hand. Lady A. [Aside.] Hang the fellow’s impudence.—Well, if you can’t say something fur.ny, make me cry; I haven’t cried since my marriage, except with laughing. You are on a visit here, eh ? you will find it a horrid bore. Lit. I can view it only as a paradise at present; wher. yo jr ladyship leaves it, I may see m it a desert. Scene I.] AND YOING HEARTS. 23 Lady A. Are you an old friend of my cousin’s? Lit. Lord Charles and I entered Eton on the same day, and never parted for nine years—‘I may say we are brothers. Lady A. I have a secret with which I mean to elec¬ trify the old folks here—I want a partner in the scheme —can 1 trust you ? Lit. With your whole heart. Lady A. Miss Rocket, a friend of mine, is in love with my cousin Charles here—don’t stare !—I found it out, and have asked her on. a visit. Lit. To supplant yourself!—why, the Earl sent for Roe¬ buck home, to—expressly—to—marry you. Lady A. Me ! oh, the old fox ! Ha ! ha ! so, so !—so much the better; I’ll teach him to keep his intrigues with¬ in Whitehall.—To begin, then, let’s be friends. Lit. Ah ! beware, Lady Alice! the friend of a young and lovely woman should have sixty years, at least, and holy orders for his qualification. Lady A. Young man, take my advice; a woman never likes her lover to be more careful of her character than she is herself, or too provident in his heart’s economy ; your sex arrogates too much on the solitary advantage which nature has given it over ours. Lit. What is that? Lady A. You are born without reputation.—What club owns you ? Lit. N one! Lady A. Right—allow neither your opinions nor yout society to be dictated to you ;—what clique claims you ? Lit. Only one— \Aside. J the Queen’s Bench,— [Aloud.\ but they are too exclusive and confined for me. Lady A. You love liberty? Lit. As a mistress likely to be lost. Jjady A. You are a man after my own heart. Lit. I am, and I trust soon to come up with it. Lady A. W hat is the world ? Lit. A gentler synonym for vice in town. Lady A. It seems to me that your sex is capable of but two characters—selfish politicians or reckless gamesters. Did modern chivalry erect new orders, one half mobility would range under the folds of a minister’s tal le cloth, while the other would canonize Crockford 24 OLD HEADS [Act II Lit. Fair play, Lady Alice, or I mus. assert my sex. Lady A. A challenge! tell me, as this sex of yours has adopted every effeminacy of soul in its desire to change genders with ours, when will you assume the fan and fla- con ? Lit. When ladies who have already engrafted the whip on the parasol, revel in tops and inconceivables. Lady A. Women must adopt your habits, if left at home to exercise those duties of husbands which you are per¬ forming in every house but your own. Lit. At home ! are ladies ever “ at home,” except, in¬ deed, when under that pretext they invite the world to see their houses turned out of doors. Lady A. To exhibit a satire upon men who regard ma¬ trimony as a ministerial sinecure. Lit. j Half apart. ] The duties of which are only known to the deputy. Lady A. True; men, whose friendship means a design against a wife’s heart, and whose honor only retains its existence for the convenience of swearing by :—spirit, re¬ presents to them but a contempt of morality ; while to pay, has reference to nothing but visits. Lit. Ahem ! [Aside.] she’s becoming personal. Lady A. Aha! [Aside.] that hit him in the conscience. Lit. Were I a woman, such a contemplation of society would almost drive me to suicide. Lady A. A fashionable alternative and genuine French I’ve thought of it—but decided on not doing the world the honour of cutting it. Lit. [Aside.] What a gorgeous creature. Can I believe that such an angel could ever be my property? Lady A. Now you are puzzling whether to propose to me next week or the one after—delay it. Meanwhile, make most of your time. I’ll send you a voucher for Al- mack’s—I’m a patroness, you know—here’s my polka card—let’s see ; I’m engaged for the 1st, oth, 9th, and 17 f h. on Ottoman , r. Lit. Put me down for all the rest. Fnchantress, you divine my very heart. [Sits by her. Lady A. What wonder, when you are going to sweat that I possess it. Lit. Ridicule me, if rou will. Yes. I confess it, I cama SCEPE I ] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 25 here to see you—to woo you—perhaps to mocK—be mer 2 iful, for, see—[Site on the Ottoman at her Jeet. J I remain to pray. Lady A. [Opening his hand and applauding on it with her own , as she eyes him through her glass.] Bravo—net bad—get up now, there’s a dear man. I promise not to flirt with any one else for one calendar week—there, don’t be vain; I once patronized a boy in the guards for two days, and now he won’t enter the pit of the opera, during an aria, for fear of engaging the attention of the house. Lit. [Seizes her hand.] Torturess— [Pauses. Lady A. Go on. Lit. [Looking at her hand.] You leave it in mine] Lady A. Certainly, till you have kissed it— [Littleton kisses her hand. — They come forward.] Hang the fellow, he does not think I’m gone so far in love with him as to snatch it away. Lit. I know not what to think, but this I know, that I’m the happiest wretch you ever doomed to misery. Enter Colonel Rocket, c. Rock. Aha, my little congreve—I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Lady A. So, Colonel, I proved a sort of invisible shell, eh ? [^ ; • osses , c. Rock, ^nly twice as mischievous ; I do believe one like you would unman a whole fleet. Ah ! your friend in the army 1 Lady A. On my own staff! Colonel Rocket—Mr. Coke. [Rocket crosses to Coke. Rock. Coke! any relation to Cook, of the 23rd 1 no! ah ! sorry for it! brave fellow—cut in two by a chain shot at Pullinabad, was knocked down by his top halt myseli —gallant fellow—bought 1 is kit for 100 rupees. Lady A. Where’s Kate ? Rock. I picqueted her in the /iall with the baggage- happy to make you acquainted, sir,—brought her up for a soldier’s wife—perfect in her facings as a light company, and can manoeuvre a battalion with any adjutant in the sei vice; look at her walk, thirty inches regulation pace head up—left leg forward—perfection ! that’s the way tu put a girl into the hands of a husband, sir. [ Crosses, L % 26 OLD HEADS [Act .i Lady A. [Aside to Littleton.] She twists the old fellc*\ round her ringer like a purse ! [Miss Rocket screams without. Rock. Hollo ! that’s her discharge—she is retiring upoi \er supports. Lady A. Here she comes, as wild as game in July. Rock. Observe how steady she will file in—right wheel Miss Rocket runs in c., her bonnet hanging on her neck. Kate ,l He’s here—I saw him—I— Rock. Hollo ! fall in—halt—the devil—discipline ! Kate. Yes, my dear father, presently—but I believe be lives in this very house. Rock. Report yourself, who ? Kate. The gentleman who kissed—I mean, who assist¬ ed me when we were upset— he rushed up to me in the hall here —and I was so—I screamed—I—here he is. Enter Roebuck, c. Roe. Can I believe my eyes ? [Aside, seeing Rocket.] old Chili vinegar, by Jove ! Rock. Steady, Ivate—stand at ease—now, sir, might I ask why, sir,—-you—you—damme, sir—why do you dnve in my picquet in this way 1 Roe. Really—sir—I—I—- Lady A. [Advancing, r.] Permit me, Colonel, to intro¬ duce to you Lord Charles Roebuck, son of the Earl of Bompion, who is too happy in being your host. Rock. Sir, your hand. No apology, enough, I accept the quarters. Roebuck, in the army—no !—any relation to Rover, of the 81st, retired on full pay and two wooden legs, alter Nepaul ? No ! no matter—my daughter, Kate Rocket—Bombay Cavalry. Roe. Allow me to apologise. [Aside.] Whom have I to t lank for this ? . [Grossing to Kate. Layy A. [Aside.] Me ! Pm in the secret—she has con- tessed all to me—I invited them here—am 1 not an anoeli Roe [Asidc.\ A divinity ! How do you find Coke? Lady A. As impudent as an heiress ! Roe. My father mistook him for his brc ther, whose ai- lival has rectified the error—I have left him closeted v\ itk the Ea/l [Goes up to Miss Rocket, Scene I ] AND YOUNG HKARTS cy Lady A. Now, Colonel, to introduce you to Lad} Pom pi >n—your arm ? f Takes Rocket's arm , Rock Kate, present arms to our host, and follow. Lady A. Executed with wonderful dispatch. Rock. Discipline ! [Roebuck and Miss Rocket , in earnest tete-d-tete, gt up , R. Lady A. Only they are marching without orders. Rock. Hollo! halt—attention! [They go out, c., still con versing, without apparently hearing him. J It’s nothing—a mere manoeuvre—but we musn’t club the battalion. We only constitute the reserve, instead of the advance—a cle¬ ver movement of Kate’s ? Lady A. Very— Rock. What we call a diversion. Lady A. Yes, very diverting indeed—ha ! ha ! [ Exeunt, c. Lit. So now, fate, I’m thy worshipper forever—do with me what you will:—this mornjng I arose without hope ; my belief in hearts was restricted to the thirteen in a pack of cards—and here I am, in a few hours, domiciled in Gros\enor Square, with expectations beyond a new rail¬ way company Enter Jesse Rural, c. Strange, too—hum ! Rur. They tell me Littleton is here—in this house—if 1 could only—this gentleman, perhaps, might—pray, sir? Lit. [Throwing himself in a chair , r.] Come what may to Thomas Coke, I’ll never sign myself a brother. Rur. Thomas Coke ! let me look—[ Takes out his spec tacles tremblingly .] yes, yes, it is he—it is—he stares at me—he won’t know me now. Lit. What a strange old gentleman ! Rur. I tremble to—to—ask him ; if he should meet mo as a stranger—or—how altered he is—in form perhaps lie changed in— Lit. [Starting up 1 By heaven ! I know that face. Rur. Mr. Coke—I—ventured—I—you don’t forget your tutor—friend—Jesse Rural. Lit. [Running to him and taking both his hands .] For get you ! may Heaven forget me when I do ' 28 OLD HEADS 'Act II Ru Ha! ha! ha! [Embracing him.] bless you my child—Hod bless you! I knew it—I knew you wouldn’t —no—let me look at you—yes—it is you ! Lit. Tell me, how came you here, in town, and in this house ? Rur. Tom came up to Parliament—you know he is member now for Ashbv. Lit. [Aside.] Ha ! that accounts, then, for the Eail’a wai m welcome—mistook me for him. Rur So 1 accompanied him to town. Lit. And he is in this house? Rur. Yes, he is dressing for dinner. I heard that you were here, and could not contain myself—came to bring you to him; he is unaware of your presence. Lit. What, creep on my knees to his purse like a pro digal son ! In what have I injured him ? He has my land, I wrote to offer to sell him the mortgages he held— he refused me. Rur. The same wild violent spirit he always had—just die same, ha! ha! Littleton, listen to me, my dear boy ; Tom loves you, you don’t know him. When we went to your chambers this morning— Lit. You, you! [Aside. ] it must have been them whom Bob-announced, and I mistook—for Scriven and Craft. Rur. Tom was prepared to forgive you. Lit. Forgive ! ’tis I who claim that office. [Crosses, l. Rur. Ha ! he ! there he flies out again—the dear boy ! Lit. Let him ask my pardon !—I entreat you will not Attempt a reconciliation ; it would only sever us more cer¬ tainly. Rur. But listen—my darling child, listen—Tom always meant to give you the money you asked for— [Aside!] God forgive me! [Aloud.] see, here is the very, very sum— look—bless you, take it! [ Takes out a 'pocket-book. Lit. How—and— [Aside.] this is impossible—ha ! I see —’tis the old man’s own savings with which he would con¬ ceal Tom’s parsimony. [Aloud.] No, no—not a farthing ! [Aside.] how can I refuse it? \Aloud.] It comes too late. Rur. Too late! why? [Aside.] I am so delighted to find at last some use for these things. [Aloud.] Here comes Tom. Lit. Do not attract his notice to me; let me manage 8rfc.Ni: 1.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. ‘26 this meecinu—the Earl supposes we an v.ed together hush | [Sits with Rural , R. Enter Lord Pompion and Tom Coke, l., Lady Pom pion, Rocket, Lady Alice Hawthorn, r., dressed for dinner, followed at a distance by Roebuck and Miss Rocket. Lord P. Your observations, Mr. Coke, are full of jus¬ tice and originality. Lady A. Hardly adapted for the House, then, my lord Rock. In the army, Mr. Coke? Tom. Nay, sir, I’m it yeomanry, if that 11 do, though a trust I shall never require ta know ma duty. Rock. How, sir, you are nervous 1 Tom. Nay, not so; it requires courage to tak the hie o’ an enemy, but it wants more than that to be called on to strike at the heart of a neighbour—I confess, I look with more pity than pride on the ranks of brave fellows, marked out for slaughter, with red on their backs, like my sheep. Lord P. Necessity, Mr. Coke. Tom. Not the less sad for that, my lord. Rock. Who would not die in defence of such a city a* London ? How did it strike you 1 Torn. As big—but not enough to hold the evil done in t. Lord P. But you admired its buildings ? Tom Yes—Whitehall, the Nelson Pillar, the Fire Of¬ fices, the Duke of York’s Pillar, the National Galleries, and the triumphal arches. Lord P. Ah, sir, an immense sum they cost. Tom. But what puzzled me was, no one seemed to know who lived in any of ’em. Lord A. Why, you see—a—nobody lives in them ^ Tom. Then I have no hesitation in saying “ nobody is the best housed man in the country. Lady A. (c.) Surely, sir, you consider our streets are 8pl 7bw d Yes, but not as glorious as the heaven they shut out. Since I came into this city I haven’t seen a fair inch of blue sky, or a blade of green grass. Stop—1 did. though— yes, I did see a puir sickly plot penned up m a place they called a square, looking as if they d put uatui* in a nound for straying into town. OLD HEADS [Act 11 A. ila! ha! sir, yours will be a distinguished roic.* m tho house. , a O'ti. And yours is the most music,al and honest ono I’ve h.wd smce I left Yorkshire. Lady A. ilere’s a hand belonging to it Lit. [Aside. } By Heaven, can she be smitten with him already ? Enter Butler, c. But. Dinner, my lady. Lord i\ Colowel Rocket, her ladyship—permit me. [Beads the followed by Rocket and Lady Pom- pion, c. Tom. \To Lady Alice.] You’ll favour me. [Offers his arm to her on her l. Lit. [Starting up.^ Lady Alice, my arm is at your sei vice - [ Offers on the other side Tom. Hu !—it—it- -must be ! Lady A. f Looking surprisedly from one to the othei | Your—brother, I belike. lorn. Here—-and I—uom it—I canna help it! [Affci tionately .] Yes, it—is my Drother. f Offering ms hand , Littleton bows coldly. Lit. I fear, your ladyship, they wait for us— Lady A. [ Looking with rejiroof on him.] True—they do [lakes Tom's arm and goes up with him.—Exeunt , c. Lit. My brother and my rival! be it so ! [ Walks violently up and down , followed by Rural. Rur. Don’t be violent, my dear boy— Lit. Yes I will not let her see how she can wound me —and him—’twould be too deeply gratifying. [Rural takes arm.] I will go—yes. Rur. That’s right. [Coke takes fierce strides , Rural inning to keep up with him—he suddenly stops. Lit \ 3t can I endure without betraya—I must. [Exit rapidly with Rural, c. END OF ACT II. Scene 1.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 30 ACT III. Scene L —The Drawing-Room in Rady Pompion s House Arch, c., draperied and surmounted with a rich Cornice , discovering an inner Drawing-Room with a fireplace in c. p. — Fireplace and fire, r. t. e., Windows, r. s. e. and l., dr ay cried in rich crimson damask and gilded va lences .— The Room is decorated in white and gold, with a bouquet pattern, a brilliant chandelier, branches be¬ tween the windows, and divans and consols R., and l., mirrors and chandelier in the inner room. Lady Alice is discovered jdaying at a Piano, l. u. e., Tom Coke leaning over it —Rural is seated, l., on a prid.eux, reeding a pamphlet .—Lord Pompion ana Colonel Rocket are walking up and down, from l. to R. corner of the inner room, while Lady Pompion is lying on a sofa opposite the fire, a Servant is offering her cojfce on a salver, while another Servant waits with liqueurs. Littleton Coke is playing with her Spa niel, but watching Dady Alice and dom. Roebuck and Miss Rocket are seated on a flirting vis-a-vis, pre tending to play ecarte on a small ornamental table. Rock. My opinion is, that a submarine battery is attract¬ ed to the keel of the vessel, and exploded by concussion. Lord P. Bless me ! had Guy Faux lived in these times, ivhat would become of the House of Peers ? Rock. Pooh ! vote me a hundred thousand pounds, and I’ll undertake to blow up both houses. f They go up conversing, c. Roe. I propose. Kate. I won’t let you, I’ve a beautiful hand. Roe. I’ve been admiring it. [Plays. Kate. I take your heart. [Takes a trick. Rot. I wish you would take my hand with it. \ Plays his last card. Kate.. I do, the gamers minewhat were we playing for ? Roe. For love — Kate. Exactly—that means for nothing. | They flirt aside .— Lord Pompion watches them, whiU Colonel Rocket joins Lady Alice. o2 OLD HEADS 'Aci III Rur. [ To Ijady Pompion.] Your ladyship, may I entreat your sympathy and beneficence in favour of a subscription I am raising for a poor creature, a widow with eight chil¬ dren ? Lady P. Widows never appear to have less—have I seen the case in the Morning Post 1 Rur. Not that I am aware of. Lady P. Pray, sir, let me see your list—what people of importance have subscribed ?, [ To Coke.] one gets one’s name mixed up with such canaille in these charities, f To Rural.] In whose name, sir, is it raised, pray ? Rur. In that of the most bountiful Dispenser of all Grood. Lady P. Ah ! sorry—we are not acquainted. [ Turns away and takes coffee from, Servant. Lord P. Colonel Rocket, a word. [ They advance. Rock. My lord ? [Lord P. takes him into r. corner and speaks apart . Lady A. [To Tom.] Ha! ha! you strange creature—I declare I will storm Sykes Hall next September. Lit. [Aside.] This is done to torture me—and succeeds Tom. We will show you old English sports. Lady A. Suppose, after my invasion, I should deter¬ mine to occupy. Tom. I’d ask no better. Lit. The devil ! [Nearly chokes the Spaniel , who howls. Lady P. Mr. Coke, my poor Bichon ! [Snatches it up. Lit. Really, I Damn the dog ! [Coming doivn.] I can suffer this agony no longer—although she may despise my want of pride in suing her after my ex¬ hibition of ill-temper—what would I give to be able to af¬ fect her indifference 1 No! after all my oaths to bring her to submission first—Here I go ! [ Goes up and joins Lady A. Lord P. * Aside to Rock.] In a word, Colonel Rocket, your attentions are thrown away—My dear sir, recollect —the son of a peer ! Rock. My—daughter. Lord P. With all respect—I have ether view for him, and, excuse my candour—but the Pompions came over aftei the Battle of Hastings, and have never yet mino-Jed *■ 111 ) atlything but Norman blood. ° AND VQUNG HEARTS. 33 hceue I.J Rock. Damn it, my lord, Kate Rocket need not look up to blood royal—her mother was the Begum of Curry- pore. princess of the first caste; she was the only one ol her family my guns had left alive—I took her in a biisk charge after she had shot two horses under me, no c.fence, my lord—but her ladyship don’t show such blood as th.it. Lord P. No ! My Countess is not of a fusileer family —pardon me* I feel my honesty is almost plebeian, but should your daughter’s name suffer by contact with ruy son’s, don’t blame him. [Goes up, u. Rock. Blame! certainly not, I’ll blow his brains out! 1 Calls.] Kate! Kate. [Rises.] Colonel! [Joins him. Rock. [Aside.] We leave this house to-morrow. Kate. [Asideb] To-morrow! [Looks at Roebuck. Rock. Orders given, no appeal—duty—damme ha ! ha! that peer is as proud of—of the Norman puddle that stagnates in his heart, as if his country had ever seen any ol it—ha ! Battle of Hastings ! ha ! a pretty affair that must have been, when there’s no mention of it in the Aimy List! ha! damme if I think there ever was such a battle. Roe. [ To Lord P., who has been speaking aside to him.] Be careful! wherefore, my lord 1 Lord P. [To Roebuck.] I have discovered that all the Government interest he possesses is confined to 3 per cent, on 50001., and he is no more an East India Director than my valet. Need I say more 1 [Goes up, c. [Littleton leaves Lady Alice, who has been devoting herself to Tom, and advances. Lit. ’Tis useless. I have yielded up my \vdh soul, and all to her—I cannot escape her torture—struggling wounds me more than patient suffering. Heaven—to what des¬ picable slavery can manhood be reduced ! Rur. [Joining him.] My dear boy, wliat s the mattei . why do you look so darkly at I om ? is he not youi bio- iher 1 , Lit. Is he sol—why then has he crossed me th ougli life—has he not devoured my inheritance—am 1 nut a oeggar ? Pair. No—not while a roof and crust are mine. Little ton— listen to me—I left my cure, my people in the coun¬ try, for the holy purpose of uniting you again.* 1 ei ie-e< this wilderness to bring back a lost sheep. 44 OLD HEADS [Act III. Lit. Then you should have come unaccompanied by the wolf—I care not to avow it—I am madly in love. [ Crosses, l. llur. My goodness ! Lit. Servilely—despicably—meanly—infatuated—wil¬ ling—anxious to exchange degrading worship for contempt, to return blind grovelling adoration for indifference ! Rur. The dear impetuous boy. Lit. Look around you, and judge if I have cause for misery. [Goes up and seats himself, r. Rur. Misery—cauie—let me see ! [Puts on his sjyecta- cles, looks round, sees Roebuck and Miss Rocket.] Oh ! oh ! oh ! there it is—well—poor Littleton ! perhaps I can do something here ! it may not be hopeless. [ Tom comes down, l. Tom. ’Tis my opinion there’s honest nature in that girl, and wholesome feeling, too—I’ll wait, and see if it be his lordship’s Burgundy, or my reason, that’s at work upon my heart—Minister ! [Rural advances , r. Rur. Well, Tom. Tom. You noticed yon blithe lass, I’m thinking. Rur. I did, Tom. Tom. Do’t again—I’m not clear about it; but it’s more than likely I’m in love. Rur. Bless me, how very remarkable ! Tom. I have hesitated, minister, because I thought Lit tleton did seem that way inclined. Rur. Thank heaven, I can answer no to that !—no, Tom, he ds in love, but ’tis there. [Points to Miss Rocket. Tom. Ar’t sure ? Rur. He owned it to me. Tom. ’Tis loike him—to drag a poor, trusting, lovirg girl from comfort here—to share his discontent. [Goes up, Rur. I’m determined—yes, that will do—the bequest left me by the father of these boys, 1 have never thought jf till this moment—’tis not a fortune, but with my vicar¬ age—enough—enough—Littleton shall have her—I—1 will provide for all—they shall come to me, and ny hap¬ piness will be too much—more than I deserve ; then Tom yvdl relent, I know his good heart, and I shall he blessed in their union once again !—how shall I begin ?— [Thinks apart. Sc* nr 1.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 35 Enter the Groom of the Chambers, l., with shawls . Serv. The carriage waits, my lady. Lady P. I had almost forgotten the opera. Lord P. [Advancing c.j Mr. Coke, a seat in our box is at your service. [ Tom crosses to Lady P. and shawls her , then crosses bach to Lady Alice. Tom. Oh, too happy, [To Lady Alice ,j does your la¬ dyship accompany us ? Lady A. I don’t mind, though I have a box of my own cn the pit tier——Russell, have they sent my Brougham? Serv. Not yet, my lady. Lady A. Then, I’ll follow you, for I hate three in a chariot. v Lady P. Charles, dear, do take Bichon to his valet. I think he’s sleepy. Lord P. Colonel, shall we stroll down to the house? Pock . Your lordship’s pardon—I’ve an appointment at my club—the Oriental. Lady A. Here, one of you men, run and see if my carriage is come. [To Littleton .] You 11 do, and ask my footman if the lorgnette is in the pocket, d heie, do go, run. [Exit Littleton Coke, l.\ Colonel, [Faking Pockets arm,\ suppose you propose me at the Oriental? Pock. Would you not prefer being a member of the Jockey Club ? Lady A. No ; I could amuse myself with your old drolls, but nothing appears to me so slow as your soi-disant fast man. Come, do propose me Pock. You would kill us all off with laughing in a week. Lady A. Do, now ! Pock. No, no. [Exeunt talking, l. Lady Pompion and Tom go out, l., Kate, following Roebuck, with dog shawled up, is going, r. Poe. [Dropping the dogi\ Miss Rocket, one woid. Kate. Don’t detain me !—[ Aside .] I must let him know how valuable his time is, or he will let me go. [Aloud. j Let m6 say farewell, my father leaves town to-morrow Poe. To-morrow !—then there is no time for delicacy. Kate. Not a mom—that is, [ mean, let me go how I iremble— Poe. Lean on me ! 36 OLD HEADS [Act I i Kate. Thank you. I am so faint— Roe. Do, if we are discovered ! Kate. I will. What am I saying ? Ru?. [ Aside—coming down, R.j How ve y extraordina ry—here’s more love. It appears to me that the young people in this house don’t do anything else. Roe. [ While Miss Rocket hides her face in her hands.] Kate—dear Kate—need words pass between us, doesn't this speak for itself 1 ? Your father’s tyranny will defeat it¬ self, and excuse this precipitation of an avowal. Kate. My father’s tyranny !—you mean that of the se¬ vere and haughty earl. Roe. No, dearest, fear nothing from him—I am his son, ’♦is true, and, as such, will yield him the obedience 1 ought. But ’tis to my children, not to my father, that L am answerable for the choice of my heart—I claim, there¬ fore, my freedom and your hand—assure me that I have won it. Kate. Spare me a reply—but, my father— Roe. On what pretext can he withhold his consent? Kate. On the earl’s dislike to our union. *«■» Roe. Ha! I see—my father has already spoken to the colonel—that accounts for his sudden departure. Kate. I fear so—but don’t mind papa, he’s nobody— Roe. How—are not his orders peremptory ? Kate. Yes—so is his obedience—he’s a dear, noisy old man-—the worst-tempered, best-hearted creature in the world ; he’s fond of reviewing, so I let him burn his pow der, and then I march him home again—ha! ha! Roe. I took him for a tyrant. Kate. He ? why he has the heart of a woman—when my mother died, before I was two years old, I’ve heard that he would watch me like a nurse—fearing to touch me, but envying the Ayeh to whom I was confided. Roc. But you had some female relatives ? Kate. Not one—nor did I feel their absence. I felt myself, as our mess-room used to toast me, “ the fair co¬ lonel.” Oh, Charles, you will love him so—could you have- seen him as I have, under the scorching sun of In¬ dia, pacing along the ranks, trying to inspect the men with a regulation frown, and swearing down tl sir honest murmurs of “ bless his old wig and spurs,” ’till suffocated ICENB l.J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 37 with their benedictions, with tears in his oyes, he’d cry— “ Get out of the sun, you mutinous rascals! Dismiss !— I’ll flog every man of you—march—God bless you, boys." Oh, I could have cried with pride. Roe. And when you leave this, where do you go ? Kate. To our villa at Closeborough. Roe. The very seat which I was to represent; the elec tion, or rather the nomination, occurs to-morrow. Kate. Another obstacle—my father’s politics Roe. I am a martyr to them—I abdicate the honour in favour of Littleton Coke—but have you no excuse y which your departure might be retarded ? Kate. I—yes—my father’o gout has prevented him lately from accompanying me in my daily ride; he has consented to allow me a groom of my own; I have not yet selected a— Roe. A groom ? A moment—ha ! will you take one of my recommendation ? one in whose confidence you may rely as in my own. Kate. What do you mean ? Roe. Rely on me—I mean all for the best. Kate. I have no will but yours. Roe. My angel! [Kisses her. Enter Colonel Rocket, l. Rock. Hollo, there—Kate—recover arms—the devil! Kate. My father! Rock. You—you—you—here’s mutiny! and you, sir how dare you, against general orders ? [Crosses to c. Roe. Hush ! my father !—should he overhear. Rock. Don’t think your Norman blood will— Kate. ) m f Hush ! I entreat—the Earl. Roe. \ T °S cther - \ We shall be ruined. Rock. [Still enraged, but under his breath^ What do I care whether he hears or not—I hope he will—you pair of disaffected mutineers. [Gradually breaking out.] Don't imagine I want to steal a recruit fiom your family into mine—because I d see it— Kate. My dear father ! he’s only in the next room. Roe. The Earl—for Heaven’s sake— Rock [Under his breath. J Very well, then—don’t Earl me—vvno’s the Earl ?—you I— hark ye, sir, [Kate throws 38 OLD HEADS [Aci III her arms jound his ne:k,] you may have come over after the battle of Hastings—though I can’t say I see much glory in arriving when the fight’s done—but 1 can count scars fo every branch in your genealogical tree—so look ye., if you think there’s any ambuscade here to catch your lordship, fall back—your retreat is still open ; but if you try a surprise on my baggage here, damme, look out for a warm reception. [Kate stops his mouth with a kiss. Rur. Don’t be alarmed, Colonel, I heard it all. Roe. [Aside.] Ruin—ruin—nothing can prevent this simple old fellow from committing our secret with my fa ther. Rock. You hare brought on a twinge of the gout, you have, you graceless baggage—then what do you care— you’d run off with the first fellow whose grandfather came over after the battle of Hastings, and leave your infirm old father with nothing to swear at but his crutch. If I had a family poodle to leave my money to, damme I’d cut you off with a rupee—give me a kiss—I would, you-—oh ! —don’t laugh at my sufferings—oh ! [ Exeunt , assisted by Miss Rocket , l. Roe. My dear old friend, one word.— [Aside.—Brings Rural forward ,] what shall I say I—You never thought 1 was making love to that lady ? Rur. It did strike me—but if not, what were you ma¬ king ? Iioe. Why, can’t you guess? Rur. No ! making love is very unlike anything else I know of. Roe. You are right—I was—but—but—not on my own account. Rur. Oh ! Roe. I pressed the suit for—for a friend—in fact, fiv Coke. Rur. For Littleton ? Rock [ Without, l. Don’t tell me— Kate. [ Without, l. No— but—• Roe Y r ou must be aware that I am destined by my fa¬ ther ’or Lady Alice—and—of course—I—I am devoted to her. Rur. And Littleton was jealous of you ! generous young man ! how he will repent when he is aware of Scene I.J AND YO'JNG HEARTS. 39 his unjust, suspicion ; I know my dear b y is in love with the lady, he has confessed it to me. Roe. \Half aside .] The devil he has ! Rur. Now, leave the rest to me— Roe. Oh ! there’s some mistake here. Rur 1 will get the Colonel’s consent—I’ll do it at once before I see Littleton—not a word to him. Let me sur¬ prise him with it. Oh, Littleton ! [Exit , l. Enter Littleton Coke, l. c. Roe. My dear fellow, you must aid me Lit. In what ? Roe. Old Rocket leaves this to-morrow, taking Kate with him. I have determined to accompany them. Lit. How ? Roe. The lady wants a groom. Lit. You never mean to undertake the place. Roe. When I have removed these foreign decorations from my chin and lips, I’d defy the eyes of Argus to know me. Enter Servant, l. Serv. Mr. Bribe, sir, wishes to see his lordship. Roe. Bribe, the devil—very well, Thomas. [Exit Ser- vant , l.] That’s my father’s solicitor and parliamentary agent, come to arrange accounts for my nomination.— What’s to be done] Lit. What’s Bribe’s fee ? Roe. A thousand pounds. Lit. I’ll offer him fifteen hundred to go down on my account. Roe. But is it practicable ?—will he ? Lit. Anything is practicable to a lawyer for five hun¬ dred pounds. But we must find some one to represent a partner in his firm, who is unknown by sight to your la¬ ther. Roe. Crawl’s the man, an arrant vote-broker. Lit. Then Crawl shall enjoy an honest reputation for a day, in the person of Bob. Roe. Is he equal to it? Lit. I’ll back him with odds at anything, from winning a kitchen wench, to a speech from the woolsack. Roe. He is here—where shall I find him? 40 OLD HEADS r Aci .n hit. Have you any spot in the house dedicated espe cially to the maids and mischief? if so, raise your voice in that quarter. . Enter Bob, cautiously , l. Bob. Sir! sir! [Looks about. Lit. Here he is. Bob. I’ve sent your adress to the Closeborough Inde • pendent, sir. Lit. My address ! Bob. To the free and enlightened electors—you’ll find it sharp and undecided, sir—I’ve been rather abusive in my allusions to your lordship, but one cannot be political without being personal ; therefore, when ] refer to your lordship, from the hustings to-morrow, as only falling short of a fool by being born a knave, and the disgrace you are to the aristocracy—[ To Littleton .] Oh, sir, I’ve not read the debates for nothing.— [To Roebuck.] Your lord- ship will understand me to speak professionally. Roe. Why—you—you— Lit. [Crosses to Roebuck , and aside.] Never mind, wait till I can afford to pay him his wages, I’ll not forget you. [To Bob. J We require you to adopt the name and cha¬ racter of a gentleman who is expected here, and to per¬ sonate him before Lord Pompion : can you do it ? Bob. That depends upon whom he is. Roe. Crawl, the attorney and agent. Bob. [To Littleton.] I thought you spoke of a gentle¬ man. Lit. Nonsense, sir; can you play the attorney? Bob. Facilis descensus averni, as Virgil said, when you weie at college, sir. I’ll adopt the character, but I'm afraid my honesty will show through and spoil the assump¬ tion. Lit. No fear of that. Accompany Lord Charles, he will give you instructions. Roe. ’Tis a fearful alternative, but there is no time to invent; I’ll despatch Bribe at once. [ To Bob.] This way. Gare ! here comes the widow ! [ Exeunt , Roe. fy Bob , r. Lie. The widow, and once more alone, ha! I feel that if I could mask my impetuosity for a moment, I might at least discover my f osition. but my love is in its own way, and— Scene I.J ANI YOUNG HEARTS. 41 Ent>r Lady Alice Hawthorn l. [Aside.] Here she is. Lady A. [Aside. ] I thought he had gone without me— ha ! I almost believe I like the fool. [Littleton sits and writes. J I must discover why these brothers do not speak. —I was thinking of trying the opera for an hour, Mr. Coke. Lit. Not a bad idea—[ Writing,] my distracted love is too perceptible— [Aloud,] the opera, ay ! [Aside,] could she have refused to accompany Tom and the Countess, to secure a tete-a-tete with me ?—I dare not hope it.—[ Wri¬ ting.] “ In the fond hope ” Lady A. [Aside.] Why, I do believe the fellow is wri¬ ting a love letter. Lit. [Still writing .] “ Grisi” —yes—ah—eh—I beg your pardon—you’ll allow me to ring for your carriage. Lady A. [Aside.] So he thinks he is sure of me—oh ! yes—hang his smirking self-sufficient grin—that letter is to me—now, if I liked him less, I would torture him till —why—he is not going to seal it! Lit. [Burning the wax.] Lady Alice, I remarked a mi¬ nute signet ring on your lovely hand: will you favour me with it for an instant ] Lady A. Nonsense ; it bears the motto, “ If amour est.” Lit. Love defunct—excellent. You keep*it to seal your death warrant, to the heart of a discarded lover. the letter.] Spirituelle—ha ! the ring, and returns it to her finger, kissing her hand. Lady A. Well—ahem— [Aside.] He does not give it to me— [Littleton writes,] he directs it—really, 1— [Littleton extinguishes the taper and advances,] feel very—oh, here he comes—ha ! he was too nervou3 to speak—I— Lit. Lady Alice— Lady A. [Aside.] His voice trembles—ha !— [Littleton walks round her, and takes up a shawl,] he’s swimming rjund the hook. Lit. You were talking of the opera— Crossing, l. Lady A. [Aside.] The float sinks Lit. Allow me, before you go— Lady A. [Aside.] 1 have him ! Lit. To sh^wl you. 42 OLD HEADS [Acv III Lady j. . Sir!— [Aside. He’s off. Lit. [Folding the shawl.] Happy shawl!—Blest cash mere !—why was I not born amongst you to be continu ally hugged round such a lovely form as this. [Shawling her.] Allow me to ring for the carriage. Lady A. [Aside.] Hang the fellow, I’ll have that letter if I die for it.—A wa:ra correspondence that of your’s, it I may judge by your escaped expression. Lit. [Aside.] Aha ! ’tis a bite, as I expected—now, I’ll play with her a little.—Warm ! oh, yes; and, apropos, you may be of some assistance to me. Lady A. Assistance ! Lit. Yes ; you might deliver the letter. I am sure the interest you took in me this morning, will excuse the con fidence I ask you to give us. Lady A. Us! Lit. Yes. [Gives the letter.] I’m an humble aspirant to— Lady A. [Reading.] Miss Rocket! Lit. You seem surprised. Lady A. Surprised! and the lady—she encourages you 1 Lit. Look at me, and don’t wound my feelings by rei terating the question. Lady A. And your—your—ha ! ha !—your protesta¬ tions to me— Lit. Egad, that’s true. I forgot—oh, don't mistake me —when I offer Miss Rocket my hand, allow me to ex¬ press at the same time, my wild adoration of your lady ship jn the abstract—It’s a fearful mania of mine. Lady A. Ha! ha! and you thought I reciprocated your empty expression of—Oh !— [Aside. ] 1 shall choke —Perhaps, you even imagined I was in love with you. Lit. 1 did. Lady A. Disabuse your mind of it, 1 beg—you flattei yourself! r 1 Lit. \ ou are not in love with me? Lady A. Not in the least. [Crosses to l. Lit. Ah, true—how could one expect Heaven to endow you with beauty and sense at the same time. Lady A. And do you imagine, sir, that I will permi’ my friend to remain in ignorance of your treachery ? Lit. Quite the contrary. I feel convinced you will in Scene I.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 43 8tantly apprise her jf the fact—Oh ! I don’t wish to take her at any disadvantage—I wish to owe nothing but to the unaided dynamics of personal appearance. Lady A. [Aside.] The egregious puppy— my heart should disinherit him—cut him off with a sigh—but that I feel it has quitted this world [ Touching her heart,] with¬ out a will. Lit. [Aside.] She loves me, and now begins to feel it As I proceed I gain more confidence.—You seem rather animated ! sorry that I’m compelled to leave you alone with your feelings—excuse the imputation. [Eyeing her.] I see you possess those inconveniences ; they impart expres¬ sion, and are amusing enough to observe—but must be very troublesome in their manufacture. Lady A. [Aside.] I would esteem this man a biute, but ’twould be a libel upon quadrupeds, for he wants their animation. Lit. You are bored, I see—regret I can’t amuse—pos¬ sessing only the ability to be amused. Shall I ring for your dog or my brother % Lady A. Don’t trouble yourself! were I inclined to laugh at anything, you would do, very well.— [Aside. j 1 could cry, but I won’t. Lit. Farewell ! I tear myself away.— [Looks at his watch.] I’m agonized with the necessity, but I see the ballet has commenced, and I would not miss the Truan- daise for a thousand. [ Lounges up and out , c., humming an air. T.ady A. Can this be real ?—what need I care ?—I’ll g. to the opera and find fifty lovers there, make each commit fifty follies, and revenge myself on the sex. [ Throws herself on sofa. Enter Rural, l. Rur. What a fearful mistake I had nearly committed— the Earl has just been speaking of his son’s projected marriage with this lady ; I must find Tom, and tell him so—poor fellow ! ’tis well he nas not known her long enough to feel her loss. But, how delighted Littleton will be to hear that his suspicions were unfounded ; now, now, 1 can conscientiously promote their happiness. Lady .4. [Apart.] Yet, his fervour was so natural, j 44 OLD HEADS [Ait II! „ould not be mistake tn his honesty—he does love me— on my life he does. Rur. [Aside.] I must get some assistance in my phx., these young hearts are such strange things.—My deal young ady, I want your help in a little plot of mine ; you understand these matters better than 1 do and will assist me—Littleton has fallen in love. Lady A. [Aside.] Bless this dear old man, he’s always ; n the wrong.—Ha ! he has confessed it to you, then ? Rur. He is as open-hearted as a child ; but you will not mention it ? Lady A. I think I was his first confidant, sir. Rur. Then, you will join me, in trying to reconcile these dear children, and recovering to my affection, my favourite—I mean, my dearest hope. Lady A. I will.— [Aside.] I thought it was affectation --but I am too happy to think of revenging it. Yes, yes, yes, my dear, dear sir—I will be all you wish—all he wishes. Rur. What a kind, warm heart it is. Lady A. Where is he ? Rur. I dare say, like young folks—ha ! he has stolen to her. Lady A. To her—who? Rur. Miss Rocket—bless me, are you ill ? Lady A. Miss Rocket! Has he then— Rur. Confessed to me his love for her—yes—his gro veiling adoration—servilely, meanly, despicably infatua ted—Mess his impetuous heart! Lady A. And Lord Charles ?— Rur. Nobly presses his suit. Lady A. I cannot believe it. Rur My dear child, his lordship told me so himself. Enter Miss Rocket, l. Lady A. Kate—tell me—are you deceiving me ? [Crosse s to Kat* Kate. What do you mean ? Lady A. Mr. Coke is in love with you. Kate. With me ! Lady A. He has been confessing it all over the housa —to me-—him—to Lord Charles— SCEUE I . 1 AND YOUNG HEARTS 45 Kate. Wny, it can't be—what means Lord Chailes's de¬ claration to me ? Rur. My dear young lady, he means nothing to you : you mistook his intentions—he was wooing for his friend, wno was ridiculously jealous of him—Lord Charles told me just now that he was betrothed to her ladyship, and devoced to her—the earl has since said the same thing— therefore it must be true. Lady A. Kate ! Kate. Alice ! Lady A. That villain, Charles, wished at once to de¬ ceive his friend—destroy you—and cheat me. Kate. Destroy me—oh, Alice! [They embrace. Rur. Tears! what strange things young hearts are. Enter a Servant, l. Serv. Your ladyship’s carriage waits. Lady A. Kate—be a woman — [ Crosses , r. Rur. She is—she is a woman— Lady A. These pair of wretches are doubtless in the stalls at the opera, directing a lorgnette battery against all the beauty in the house ; let us go and show them we can be as heartless as they. [Crosses to l., goes to table , and gets an opera-glass. Rur. Yes—exactly—what can it all mean? There is nothing so puzzling to an old head, as a young heart. \Lady Alice takes one of Rural's arms , and places her opera-glass in his hand. There! my dear child—don’t wef p. [Is going to apply her handkerchief to her eyes , when Miss Rocket takes the other arm and checks him.] Well! woman is a wonderful and mysterious thing! Lady A. Wretches—both. Rur. Ah ! Kate. Villains! Rur. Yes— [Aside.] I wonder what they mean, amf what they arc going to do with me? \Kzeunt , ladies pulling Rural through centre do^t END OF ACT III. 46 OLD HEADS rAct iv ACT JY. Scene I,— The same as Act JJ1 Enter C jlonel Rocket, c., with a newspaper . Rock. Here’s news! A copy of this evening’s Close borough Independent has been despatched to me. [Reads. “ We gladly issue a second edition, to give the earliest pub - licity to the following address, which reached us after going to press — “ To the Independent Electors of Closeborough. “ Gentlemen—In reply to a requisition from a numerous and highly respectable body of your townsmen, I too hap¬ pily accede to your wishes, and shall be proud to represent your opinions in Parliament, which I cannot but suppose are violently adverse to those of my noble friend and an¬ tagonist, Lord Roebuck, whose character, speaking public¬ ly, I must despise—but whose private character , generally, I know nothing about. “ I am, gentlemen, your obedient servant, “ Littleton Coke.” Hurrah ! now I can show fight! now I’ve outflanked his Norman Lordship. My villa at Closeborough, Ghuznee Lodge, and its estate, gives me the influence of thirty votes—ha ! ha ! ha ! I’ll not sleep another night beneath this noble roof—I’ve despatched orders to Corporal Stripe to have the guard out, in their old uniforms—my travel¬ ling carriage will be here in two hours—I’ll canvass the whole town before breakfast. Ho! ho! damme, I’ve ne¬ ver been so excited since Bhurtpore ! Enter Rural, l. c. Kur. Had I been the first-boni of Richelieu, and the fav.urite pupil of Machiavel, I could not have surround ed myself with more intrigues, plots, and difficulties. Those two dear girls took me to the opera; they beguiled the way, by crying and endeavouring to discover which could invent the worst name for her lover. When we arrived, I found myself amongst soldiers and footmen S-ENE I.] AND YOUNO HEARTS. 4? then labrynths and lights; then in a little closet with one wall out, apparently for the admission of noise and glare I was astonished into the place, and amazed out of it, and thankful I am to get here again.— [Aside.] Here’s the Colonel—I’ll venture to—to sound him about his consent to the marriage.—My military friend, will you allow me to ask—has Littleton acquainted you with— his intentions } Rock. No, sir—-I wish he had—however, accident has levealed them to me. Rur. And dare he hope that you will grant your con¬ sent ? Rock. Grant! I’ll secure his success. He shall have Tack Rocket’s interest, sir. Rur. Then you approve of his offer ? [.Astonished . Rock. I oould not have selected from all England a finer fellow—more after my own heart. Rur. He is—he is— Rock. Noble souled. Rur. Princely. Rock. Honest, free.— Rur. God bless you ! Rock. No stiff-backed pretension— Rur. What a kind soul you are. Rock. I’ll lay a thousand, his father was at the batiks of Hastings. Rur. But, your daughter— Rock. Kate! ay—she’ll go with him, heart and soul 1 Rur. She will ; she has said as much. Rock. Bless her heart, it always says right. Rur. My dear benefactor, don’t, don’t overcome mo with gratitude : what shall I say or do—may I run and tell Littleton ? Rock. Tell the rascal, I’ll never forg ve him not coming to me at first. Rur. At first, ha ! ha ! Rock. Tell him, my carriage is at his service—my house at his command. Rur. Ha ! ha ! I shall do something very foolish foi joy when I get out! Rock. Advise him to lose no time : he should clinch tb« affair before breakfast to-morrow. Rur. To-moirow ! isn’t that rather, rather early, eb ? 48 OLD HEADS rAiT IV Rock . Too late sir—I like despatch Rur. But the lady ? Rock. Kate! pooh! yciu don’t know the gir' sheTj spring up at five in such a cause. Rur. Bless me ! Ro'k. No more—I’m off. Remember my carriage will t>e at the door in two hours, let him use it. Rur. Use it to— Rock. Not a word—orders given—ho! great guns! this is glorious! Rur. Miraculous ! Rock. I’m in the saddle again, huzza! [Twinges. ] Oh! the gout !—I’m a rusty old arquebuse, only fit to hangup fot a show of old times; but no! I’ll be charged and primed, and damme I’ll go off once more, if I’m blown to the devil for it!—Hurrah ! eh ! ha ! ha ! hurrah. [ The Colonel shouts, becomes excited, and, exit, l. Ru¬ ral, very excited, joins feebly in his boisterous shouts. Rur. Hurrah ! bless me, how exciting all this is ;—ha ! ha! [He runs about.] I’m inclined to do something very frantic—Huzza! Enter Lord Pompion, r. c. Lord T My dear sir.— [Aside.] What is the old mail about ?—Will you have the kindness to inform Mr. Coke— Rur. Certainly, in two hours— Lord P. I mean the member, sir; that I would be happy to see him here— Rur. Before breakfast— Lord P. On parliamentary business— Rur. Of course. Tell the rascal I’ll nevei forgive hi.n Lord P. Mr. Rural—will you— Rur. Spring up at five in such a cause. [Crosses to r. Lord P. He is possessed— Rur. Great guns ! this is glorious! Huirah ! hurrah! [Exit Rural, c. Enter Servant, l. Serv. Mr. Crawl, my lord. Lord P. Show him in. [Exit Servant, l.] Charles ir- firms me that Bribe sends word that he is engaged against us by the opposing candidate ; but he has proved himself a trustworthy fellow, for lie las despatched an f AND YOUNG HEARTS. Scene I.] 4b intelligent and junior partner in his firm, >vhom tie feels assured will carry all before him. We must do some¬ thing for Bribe—fidelity should be rewarded. Enter Servant, l. Serv. Mr. Crawl. Enter Bob, l., dressed in black.—Exit Servant , l. Lord P. Mr. Crawl ? Bob. Of the firm of Bribe Crawl, and Treatem. Lord P. Fame speaks highly of you, Mr. Crawl, and parliament has its eye on you. Fortune favoured me, when, twenty years ago, I selected your firm for my soli¬ citors. Bob. I remember the era. Its date I think is on your lordship’s first mortgage to us. Lord P. A tenacious memory—be seated. [Points to chair.] How fortunate for us that Bribe is secured to our opposing candidate. Bob. He’s a treasure— Lord P. So are you— Bob. Oh, I’m a mint, my lord, a perfect mint—I’ll coin vou votes that shall pass current with any Committee of the House—I’ll put you in for any borough in Gieat Bii- tain, and return you with any majority you may please to pay for—I’ll qualify you with three hundred a-year, landed property, for fifty pounds, and show moie voteis in your interest unpolled, than there is population in the county. Lord P. My dear Mr. Crawl! Bob. Oh, my Lord—that’s nothing. Lord P. I may conclude my son elected, then . Bob. Chaired—and has returned thanks ir a neat speech, which I have already prepared. Lord P. Then I may venture to dismiss anx ety from my mind—and enter on other topics. Bob. [Aside.] Other topics—master didmt prime me for other topics. Lord P. Fifteen years ago— Bob. [Aside.] Oh, lord! , . , Lord P. It may be in your tenacious recollection that I confided to the care of Mr. Bribe, a boy. E 60 OLD HEADS ' [Act I\ Bob. Oh! perfectly—a perfect child—a-—a mere—a— boy—a—oh, I perfectly— Lord P. I he—the—son of an old and valued servant Bob. Female ? Lord P. No—my butler. Bob. Oh! Lord P. I promised to—to—protect—to educate—my —I mean, his child—and confided the responsibility te Bribe’s charge. bob. [ Aside.^ Oho !—the Earl has been a gay deceivei in his youth—ahem !—not much of the Lothario left ! Lord P. I—I left England shortly after this occui• rence, as ambassador to the court of Lisbon—since my return—business—a— Bob. Of course. I see.—Oh, yes—I know the boy—a fine fellow he has grown—an universal favourite. Lord P. Indeed ! Bob. His name is Robert, but we call him Bob, farm liarly. Lord P. Yes, yes. .' • \ Bob. I do assure you, there’s no one for whom I pos¬ sess a higher esteem—whose interest I have more at heart. Lord P. It does you honour. Bob. I got him into the service of Mr. Littleton Coke. Lord P. Coke ! what a strange coincidence. Bob. But, to-day he has obtained the situation of groom to a Miss Rocket. Lord P. Miss Rocket! why, that lady is now in this nouse. Bob. Indeed ! then so is Bob. Lord P. Could I—I—see him? Bob Of course; permit me to ring. [Rings bell on l. table. ] By the way, if you will excuse the idea, I can't help thinking that there is a considerable resemblance be* tween his features and those of your son—our candidate, Lord P. Ha! ha! what a strange notion.— [Aside.\ Can it be so striking as to betray me ? Enter Servant, l. Bob Tell Miss Rocket's new groom to step up. j Exit Servant% i„. AND \ JUNG HEAP TS. Scene T.J i * i . 5i [Aside.] So, Lord Charles, you roaster me once, now 1*11 give you a turn. Lord P. [ Aside .] How agitated 1 feel. Enter Lord Charles dressed as a groom , with his mous- tachios and heard cut , and his hair cropped. Boh. Step forward, young man—my lord, this is Bob. Roe. [Aside.] My father—the devil— [ Threatens Boh , Lord P. [Aside. J I dare not look at him— Boh. His lordship is good enough to take an interest in you, Bob—for which you will feel duly grateful—ahem —I’ve no doubt that he will even do something handsome for you—you see the reward of virtue :—I promised you, that by steady and persevering conduct, I should be able to give you a turn when you least expected it. Roe. [Aside.] Expected it—the fellow is roasting me now with a vengeance ! Boh. Do you hear ? Roe. I—1 heartily thank his lordship. Lord P. [Aside.] The voice—the Pompion voice—1 could swear to its haughty tones amongst a million.— [Looks at him.] Mercy ! he will betray me. Blindness would know him to be Charles’s brother. Boh. Bob, are you ready to experience his lordship’s generosity ? Lord P. Young man—I—take some—little interest m your—Robert—I— [Checks himself, !] Mr. Crawl, you will expend this hundred pounds for Robert’s benefit. [ Gives money. Boh. I feel it as a gift to myself—every shilling of it shall be conscientiously spent on that individual. Bob, have you no tongue ? mercy on me—no gratitude—there you stand—do you see, sir, ’tis one hundred pounds— thank his lordship. Roe. [Aside.] Oh, the scoundrel ! Boh. Thank him on your knees, sir. Roe. [Bowing. J Oh, you—your—lordship—I— a- scarcely know how to— [Aside.] Damn that fellow’s im¬ pudence. Lord P. Farewell, Mr. Crawl; you will let me hear of this young man from time to time. [Takes a last look at Roebuck f^om the door. j Fatal image—poor boy—Sarah Jane—oh, memory! [Exit, k. c. 62 OLD HEADS [Act IV Roe. [Sits across a chair and looks at Bob, after a pause. ^ So, sir you have the daring impudence not only to ring me up for your special amusement, but to rob my fathet before my face. t Bob Perquisites, my lord, nothing more ; besides, if 1 am to injure my character by adopting that of a lawyei for half an hour—the least I may be spared is the lawful plunder of the profession. Consider the risk. Enter Rural, l. c. Bur. I can’t find him anywhere. Roe. Mr. Rural. Bob. The old money-lender—he has dogged us—the Uiliff can’t be jar off—I must find my master. [ Exit Boh , cautiously , l. c. Rur. Why—surely— Roe. [Aside.] He detects me—better make him a confi¬ dant, or he may betray me.—Yes—yes—he—he—you look surprised—this dress— Rur. But where’s all this 1 [Touching his chin. Roe. Ha ! sir! my judicious compliment to the court oi Versailles—hush !—I’ll tell you—it’s a freak— Rur. Law ! Roe. Nothing more— [Aside to Rural,] you see— v Aside.\ aid me, Mercury, god of lies.— [Aloud.] I told you I was assisting Coke to the hand of Miss Rocket. Rur. You did—so am I. Roe.'- They—they are off to-night. Rur. I know it—ha ! Roe. The deuce you do—well—I’m going to ride pcs tillion, that’s all. Rur. Going down as his groom ? Roe. No ! as her’s—but hush—I implore--net a sylla¬ ble—could I but find Kate, without meeting my father— I have secured the servants. [Goes up, c., an l of, l. Rur. Well, I had heard of young noblemen turning coachmen—but this is the first instance of one turning groom—I— Re-enter Lord Pompion, r. c. i Lord P. They have gone, sir—the persons who Ivors here this instant, do you know have they left the house '* ;NE j j and voung HEARTS. OO Rwr. You sa /V them ? Lord P. Certainly ! Rur, [Aside.] Oh ! then he is in the secret.— \ r ou know }n —you are aware— I ord P. Of what % Rur. That Miss Rocket has got another groom. Lord P. Y—e—s. Rur. A new character for your rogue of a son. Lord P. Ah! hush ! [Seizes his arm , and looks round. Rur. Eh ! what’s the matter ] Lord P. My dear sir, you have gained, I know not by bat accident, the possession of a secret of the deepest iportance.—Yes, I confess it—the person who is now i g a ged in the menial capacity you mention, is my son. Rur. Of course, he is—he is going to, ha ! ha ! ride )stillion ; what will he do next ? Lord P. You will conceal this secret ? Rur. If you desire it, certainly ; I had suspicions that iss Rocket was in love with him, but— Lord P. Miss Rocket! is it possible—my dear, dear r, you transport me—could you but conclude a match 3tween them. Rur. Good gracious! . . LordP. [Aside.] Young ladies have eloped with then rooms before now. Rur. Why, my lord. Lord P. I know—you would start objections, 1 antici- ate them. Listen—should this desirable event take lace, it may be politic for me to show some temper, you nderstand— Rur. Certainly not. , , Lord P. To be angry— but do not heed it— twill only e in compliment to the colonel, and to conceal my ic a ionship—[ Crosses to l.] Remembei, theic s a \a ua > t enefice in my gift: it is just vacant. All 1 can sa y 18 onsummate my hopes, and ask me for what you will, it hall be yours. . \ Lxit ' L ' Rur. But, my lord— Lady Alice what can this mean ai hour ago he told me that he designed Lord Chailes or Lady Hawthorn, now he would give anything to see dm married to Miss Rocket. This is all Very strange— f he agree to the match between his son and hei lady- hip. and the colonel consent to Littleton’s proposals, and 54 OLD HEADS [Act I the young people love each other—why make any my tery % Ha ! here is my boy--he seems annoyed—a— [Seats himself, c., and watches , l Enter Littleton Coke, l., he walks up and down aft a pause. Lit. I don’t think there was a fool in the house whoij! she did not flirt with through her opera-glass. Every on; noticed it—she swept over the stalls, smiling at every ei ger eye that was fixed on her—damme, she appears int mate with the whole subscription—and then the omnibu boxes—oh, that was awful—why, every man in ’em wer. round into her box—they went by two’s, relieving eac other every five minutes, like sentries before Whitehal She made herself the focus for every lorgnette in the pi —and not content with that, she goes round into Lad; Pompion’s box, turns her back full upon the stage an< me, and flirts with Tom, as if she had only six hours t< live. I was obliged to groan in the middle of one of Grisi’s finest arias—and nearly got turned out. Rur. (l.) Littleton, fortune smiles on you—my dea; boy, I give you joy—she is yours. Lit. (r.) Is she ? Rur. The colonel says, his carriage and house are al your service, and that the affair ought to be settled before breakfast to-morrow. Lit. [Aside.] In all this excitement 1 had almost forgot¬ ten my election, and the colonel—of course ! Roebuck told me he was violently opposed to his politics, he will aid my return—I’ll accept his offer. Rur. His carriage will be at the door in an hour. Lit. I hen it shall bear me from this fatal scene of en¬ chantment, and you will accompany me. Rur. May I—oh ! what, with you ! [Embracing him. Lit. Forgive me, if in my moments of passion I have slighted your affection. Rur. Slighted! let me hear any one say you slighted my dear boy, yeu have been all love, and—let’s go— [Andc.] I’ll write to Tom to follow, ha! ha! Li ter Tom Coke and Lady Alice Hawthorn, with let ters, laughing , l. Lit. Ha! they fa low to outrage me even here. I’ll re- [Retires up, r- AND YOUNG HEARTS. 55 Scene I.] Lady A. [c.— To Littleton } Oh! Mr. Coke, did you hear Lablache in the finale'? La! ha ! Lit. [Aside.] She must have seen me leave the house in disgust before it ; I felt every eye was upon me. Lady A. Ha ! ha ! he was too droll to bear. I would not hear or see any thing after that—’twould be a sacri¬ lege. Lit. [Aside] She can be amused, too ! Tom. [Aside.] She loves me—I felt it—I am too full of happiness to remain unforgiving: my heart has been knocking against my will all day long. I could not look at himwi’out a blush.—Brother Littleton, a word wi’ you. r Littleton Coke bows aside , and advances a little — Tom hesitates. Lady A. [Aside to Rural.] Go, leave them to me. Rur. Bless you, angel that you are—that is—that you will be—join those young hearts and gain an old man s last prayers. [Rur. and Lady A. retire into the inner room. Tom. Brother, a’m not goin to reproach you, but but —no matter what you’ve been—forgive and forget. Lit¬ tleton, we are brothers—flesh and blood do tingle against oui parting this way-—you are my fathers son the child of my mother—don’t look from me, brother Littleton because there are tears in ma eyes that a m not ashamed of-—you tremble—so do I—’ave got my hand out, though you don’t see it—you’ll take it? Lit. This charity seems strangely sudden—to what do [ owe it ? Tom. (l.) To her. Lit. Lady Alice! Lady A. Well! _ [ Coming down, c. Lit. [r.— Aside.] She loves him. Lady A. I’ve taken a fancy to see you two shake hands : whoever begins shall be rewarded with lay waist for the first polka at Rochester House to-night; do you hear, you statue? [She goes to Littleton , who is standing , r., with his back towards his brother Tom. J Come, give me your hand. Lit. His hand will suffice your ladyship for the piesent. Lady A. [Aside.] Aha! have I reduced you to submis¬ sion ? now I’ll try on him if 1 have learned, bj’ heart, the lesson he taught me an hour ago. [Aloud to Tom.] Will 50 OLD HEADS [Act 1? you favour m3 with a moment’s tete-a-tete with this amu sing creature ? Tom. You command me. [Exit, c. Lit. Will your ladyship excuse me ? Lady A. No—I want you—don’t go, I beg. Lit. [Aside.] She entreats—she repents. [He pauses, she draws out a letter. She takes a letter from her breast—’tis to me. [She opens it.] No—she opens it—she reads it— [She sighs,] she is affected—what can it mean ? Lady A. Mr. Coke—I—I hurt my hand this evening, and am unable to write—would you have the kindness to answer, for me, this letter, and write as I tell you ? Lit. Write as !— [Aside.] What does she—perhaps ’tis from Tom—it is—I— Lady A. [Having settled the writing 7naterials for him.] Pray be seated. [He Now, will you promise me t< write as I tell you ? Lit. [Aside. J She smiles, ah !— [Aloud.] Pll swear it. Lady A. “ My dear”—lei’s see—yes—“dear sir”— Lit. Two adjectives ? Lady A. Ye—s ! “ If [Reading letter ,] fondest hopes” —poor fellow !—“ if you imagine my treatment of you to be cruel”— Lit. [Aside. J Damme, if she isn’t making me wii'e a love letter to somebody; oh, that’s too good ! [Rises and throws down pen. Lady A. Bad pen ? don’t stir, here’s another. [Offers a pen, he loohs at her, and sneaks hack.] “ You will forgive me, your letter now before me, so full of deep affection”— [Reads letter ,] mad affection—ah !—‘ has touched me to the heart.” Lit. If I write that, may I— Lady A. Your promise, sir ! Lit Go on—your ladyship is very kind—proceed. Lady A. “ Let me confess, that I am at this momeni inflicting upon you a torture, which, although you deserve, I am too feeling to continue. Rather than see you suffel longer, let me own myself, for ever, your’s.” Lit. Is there any more ? Lady A. \ es, the direction. L^t. Ha ! who’s the inf—gentleman \ Scene I.] AND young hearts. 57 Lady A. “ To Littleton Coke, Esq.” Lit. [Starting up.] Myself—could you— Lady A. Ha ! ha ! ha ! [Crosses to r Lit. That letter— Lady A. Take it. Lit. Blank !—ha I my own to Miss Rockei. Lady A. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Lit. And you love me ? Lady A. Let me sign that letter. Lit. Which 1— a—this—oh ! yes, true. Lady A. [Looking over it.\ Why, it’s blank, too: you did not write a line, then 1 Lit. Not a syllable ; and for such a document I would nave given my life ; stop, we’ll begin again. Lady A. No, no! had you kept your promise, you would now have possessed mine to be for ever yours. [Goes to table , l., and sits, ready to write Lit. 1 won’t occupy you long; we’ll come to “ Ill be for ever, your’s” at once ; eh ! sign a new lease of life to Lady A. No, leave the document for me to look over. Lit. While suspense is making me feel like one great pulse. Lady A. There is a prescribed time to wear mourning for a husband, and a certain time to wear reserve to a lover. I cannot throw it off so early—think how short is our acquaintance. Lit. But how much can be done in it, by hearts like ours ; you are no slave to society, nor am I. [ iEmbraces her, Lady A. You impetuous wretch—release me. Lit. One word, then. Lady A. Hush !—some one. Enter Bob, l. Lit. Bob! Bob. [ Aside to him.] Sir—sir—Craft’s— Lit. Craft! Bob. On the premises, saw him myself, and dressed like a gentleman—so he’s serious, and means to have you —get out of the house. Lit. But row } 68 OLD HEADS t A ct [V Bob. By any way but the hail door; it’s old Scriven s debt. Lit. And it’s above d£20. Ruin !—in twelve hours I should nave been a Member of Parliament, and free. Bob ! go to the top of the staircase—watch—prevent him from coming up, by any means, tumble on him, pitch hirr ovei the banisters accidentally, any way. [Bob goes out, l. Lady A. Who is that ? Lit. A—a—my agent; he tells me that I must start for Closeborough immediately—every moment’s delay is an agony to him. Lady A. Closeborough! Lit. Yes—the poll takes place to-morrow. I must be there to-night. Lady A. An election without me—that’s enough to unseat the candidate—and only a few miles from town, too. Lit. ’Tis not too late—with your voice in my favour. Lady A. Oh, if 1 could but escape ! the Earl considers me bound to canvass for you, Charles—ha ! ha ! fancy me stealing a march on Pompey, turning Closeborough into a modern Pharsalia, to run away, like Cleopatra, when the battle began, and leave Pompey in the minority. Ha ! ha! ha! Lit. Not run away, only desert to the enemy. Lady A.. That’s true—I’ll do it— consider yourself M P. for Closeborough—ha ! ha ! ha ! I’ll be off at once. Lit. Hark ! your carriage is driving round into the stables. Lady A. Let the horses be kept in it; I shall be ready before the earl can return. Lit. Can you afford Mr. Rural a seat I ' Lady A. With pleasure. Lit. And me ? Lady A. Impertinent!—certainly not. Lit. Outside'? Lady A. Don’t dare to approach me, by a mile. Lit. But you go to Ghuznee Lodge, where I am invi ted also. Lady A. Then you must occupy the village inn, while 1 am there. Now the fellow pouts again ; listen : must 1 aot preserve my reputation intact, even from you, before 8 CETTE I.J AND YOUNG HEARTS 59 marriage, or you may call it in question with yourself a£ ter it 1 Send to me your dear old friend—good bye. Lit. But stop one moment, this letter— Lady A. Well % Lit. ’Twas written and directed, but unsealed— Lady A. You want my ring again—love defunct. Lit. No, I’m alive—thus [Kisses her hand,] Paradise is regained. [Exit Lady Alice, c.] She loves me, there is /lot the slightest doubt on the point—I am beloved by an angel and five thousand a*year—do I remember awaking this morning ? Enter Roebuck, in a 'postillion's jacket and cap, l. Charles !—what’s this 'l Roe. Old Rocket’s carriage has just driven up to the door—a thought struck me—I’ll use it to elope with his daughter. Lit. Where to? Roe. To Closeborough ; 1 have not the courage to ar¬ gue with my father, or with her’s. I’ll make a demon¬ stration—I’ll ask Lady Alice to accompany her; for form’s sake ,1 shall leave her at the Lodge, and to preserve the reputation I prize beyond my own. I will not compro¬ mise it by showing myself to the servants, but, without dismounting, return to the Rocket Arms, in the village. Lit. You’re five minutes too late : she’s engaged to me on the same road. Roe. To elope 1 Lit. Very near—own brother to the fact. Roe. Ha ! ha ! you’re jealous of my speed in love— you’re distanced—look, this is a suit of our family livery : I’ll rattle down to Ghuznee Lodge in two hours and forty minutes. Enter Bob, l. Lit. [Crosses to Boh.] Run down to the stables, and slip a saddle on the near-horse in the Brougham fly.— | Exit Boh, l.] All right. Lady Alice is going down on my interest with Rural—she refused me a seat inside her carriage: damme, I’ll take one outside her horse, and give Crafl the slip—this is glorious—where is the livery ?—in die harness-room 'l I know—all right. 60 OLD HEADS [Act IV Enter Rural, l. c. My dear old friend, give me your hand. [Shakes it vio hntly.] You said fortune smiled upon me—a mistake— she roars—don’t ask me to explain—I couldn’t. There’s Roebuck—ask him—he’s in his senses—shall I survive it 1 [ Runs out , l. Rural approaches Roebuck , who is walking hastily up and down. Rur. Tell me, what does it mean ? Roe. It means rapture—success—madness. Rur. Yes, I see that—but— Roe. You—you take Lady Alice down to her carriage, and mum—do you understand ? Rur. Not quite ! but never mind. Roe. While the colonel’s carriage waits below. Rur. I know it does, for his lovely daughter—yes. Roe. [ Aside .] Ha! the old gentleman is deeper than I thought—he sees through our plot.—Then, my dear sir, two of the happiest dogs in London, will whirl down two of its loveliest denizens to Closeborough. Rur. What an extraordinary preface to marriage. Had 1 not heard of its approval from the lips of the old gen¬ tleman, I should have considered it too wonderful to bo correct. Enter Bob, l., breathlessly. Bob It’s all ready, sir; saddled complete. Roe. To your conduct is confided Miss Rocket. Bob. [Aside. J Oh ! I thought it was an elopement my master was about. Roe. Hush ! she is here; run to her lady’s maid, and uet her shawl; I’ll not give hesitation a chance. Enter Miss Rocket, l. c. Bob. [Looking of.] Oh, that’s the lady—well—he has my consent. [Exit Bo ^ L> Ji/ur. 1 his appears very strange. Roe. My dearest Kate ! Kate. Charles ! and in this dress! Roe. Do not waste our precious time in wonde: ; I will explain it presently. a i- // f* * * iave sus P ecte ^ you unworthily, wickedly, bul Alice has made me ashamed of my folly; let me auffoi something to gain your paidon. Scene I.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 61 Roe. I will. Your carriage waits: suffer me to fly witl you. Kate. Fly! Roe. Only to your own house—’Twill be enough tc show our tyrants that their opposition would be vain.— Bob will conduct you to your carriage. Kate. Bob ! Roe. Ha ! oh ! I never. Crawl, Bob Crawl—Alice is going— Kate. To elope— Roe. With Coke.— [Aside.] Nothing convinces a wo man or a judge like a precedent. Kate. 1 dare not—how—to— Roe. I will waft you both down like a zephyr [ To Rural, who is coming down , c.] My dear sir, join your prayers to mine—she refuses to go. Kate. But my father ?— Rur. My dear young lady, if that’s all, your father de¬ sires it—commands it—declares that the affair must be settled before breakfast to-morrow. Kate. That’s he—I must credit you. Rur. He ordered the carriage—have no scruples—he assured me that you would not. Kate. Can I believe my ears 1 Rur. You may; it’s extraordinary, but you may. Re-enter Bob, with the shawl and bonnet, l. Bob. Here they are, sir: only cost me a kiss and a few promises. Kate. I’m in a dream ! Rur. So am I ! [Rural, with Kate and Roebuck, go up stage . Bob. [Aside.] The old money-lender here, and on sue! ? job—ah ! gets his bill out of her fortune. I must make something. Excellent! a paragraph in the Morning Post Elopement in high life—Littleton Coke, Esq., with the great heiress and lovely daughter of Colonel Rocket. Bilious father—it’s in time for to-morrow’s impression— they’ll make an express of it. Let’s see, I’ll ask a small per centage on the magnitude of her fortune—I’ll try twenty thousand a-year. I may get five pounds , besides, ’twill civilize the creditors. OLD HEADS [Act IV. f>2 Roe. [ Coning down.] Be assured, c Barest; confide in my devoted love, and farewell. Enough—I leave her to your care; farewell, dearest—now for the saddle, and l’m off—hurra for the road ! [Exit, l. Lit. [Appearing at r., in the dress of a postillion. ^ Is she ready ? Boh. Very near, sir: all right. Lit. Make haste ! Boh. That’s for you to do, sir— Lit. True—I’ll introduce the turnpikes to fourteen miles an hour. [Exit, L. Kate. I tremble— Rur. So do I, my dear child. Enter Lady Alice Hawthorn, l., dressed. Lady A. Kate ! Kate , Alice! Boh. [Aside. | Hollo ! here’s— Lady A. What does this mean ? Rur. Exactly—now—we’ll have it. Kate. My meaning, I believe, is yours. Lady A. I—I—I’m—give me a kiss, Kate ; we aie both a pair of fools, dear. Rur. Well, ’tis no clearer now—my dear—he waits. Boh. [Aside.] Extraordinary express—another elope¬ ment. Lord Charles Roebuck with the Lady Alice Haw thorn. Ten pounds— Rur. ’Tis no clearer now. [Lady Alice takes his arm. Boh. This way. [Conducts Miss Rocket, l. Rural goes up with Lady Alice, l. c. Rur. I wish you—both—farewell. Kate. [Going with Boh, l. 1 Alice, what will become of me ] Lady A. You will get married, dear. Kate. Farewell. Rur. I wish you happy—farewell! END OF ACT IV. [Exeunt, Scene I.J and young hearts. 63 ACT V. Scene I .—Ghuznec Lodge .— The house is a villa, with an Indian character apparently forced upon it—the lawn and shrubberies extend out , c. f., hrubberies, r. and l., with a pagoda summer-house, l. 3d e.— a broad carriage entrance leads of, l —extreme entrance—a sen . try box is discovered c., in a bush. Stripe is discover• ed standing in c. at the bach, directing a field-glass C down the avenue—a Veteran, in Bombay cavalry uni¬ form, walks as if keeping guard. Stripe. No signs of the colonel, yet his orders were for us to be in readiness to receive him at two this morning, and here’s half-past eleven—I’ve despatched Wilcox with the old howitzer to the top of the hill, to give us a sig¬ nal ; hollo! whom have we here ? good light cavalry figure. Enter Littleton Coke down the avenue , l. Aid-de-camp with despatches from head-quarters, perhaps. Lit. I ve leftB oh addressing the free and independent electors of Closeborough from the hustings. [ Very distant shouts, I,.] There’s another shout, elicited by his rhetoric. I believe the rascal has compromised me with every opi¬ nion on the political creed; ’( was useless arguing with him—he said, ’twas no good in losing a vote for a mere promise so, damn the fellow, if he didn’t promise every thing to everybody. [Distant shouts, r. u. e.] Whether 1 am whig, tory, or radical, will puzzle the Times to disco¬ ver. Enter Rural from the house, r. Rur. (l.) My dear boy, I don’t know what’s the mattei L.side, but something has gone wrong ; Lady Hawthorc. won’t hear a word from me. Lit. [Aside.] She has discovered n:y disguise; no mat ter, she will readily forgive it. Rur. .Tust now, she and Miss Rocket flew upon me; ut all they could say was, “Explain, sir, explain.” Lit. And you ? 64 OLD HEADS [Act V. Rut. I—[ ran away, because, /or see, explain was just the thing I coaldn’t do. Lit. [Aside.] He is in the dark still ’twill be safer to keep him so. My d ear old friend, ’tis all a freak, a—a — Rur. Ah ! ah! come, now, you aie at some of your old tricks—oh ! oh ! I know you are ! Lit. We have planned a surprise, by which the old co¬ lonel and the earl will find that our young hearts have outmanoeuvred their old heads—but ’tis a secret. Rur. Oh, let me into it! Lit. When the colonel arrives, and discovers Roebuck, he may storm a little. Rur. What for ? have I not his orders that you should use his carriage 1 Lit. You will never mind his temper. Rur. Not a bit, ha! ha! Lit. The earl may possibly be annoyed— Rur. Annoyed !—he’ll be enraged !—ha ! ha !—he sam he would, oho ! and you—now, this is all your plot, you rogue, you know it is, isn’t it ? Lit. It is—but hush ! here they ccme—leave us. Rur. Oh, you wild, mischievous dog—oh, just what you were, when you played me those tricks in the poultry yard; when, ha! ha! you tied a gc sling to my coat tail and when I walked off, the gander was nearly the death cf me—oh ! ha ! had ha ! you villain ! Lit. But go, I beseech. Rur, [Going, returns.] And, that fifth of November too, when— Lit. I remember, there— Rur. A squib in my snuff-box—oh, you little rogue, oh J b ess you ! oh! a squib in my snuff-box ! [Exit lehind house , r., chuckling Lit. And bless you, for the simplest, kindest soul alive [Littleton goes up, r. c. Enter from the house, r., Lady Alice Hawthorn, with a newspaper, and Miss Rocket, followed by Roebuck. Roe. But hear me. Lady A. Not a word—here’s a fine catastrophe to your clever intrigues ! here’s an exposee —I shouldn’t wonder it they put the whole affair into a novel, or on the stage, Scene I.J AND YOUNG HEARTS. 65 Fancy my follies published in penny numbeis, with illus¬ trations ; or your blunders enjoying a run at the Hay- market. Bah !—I could laugh my life out at you both, if I wasn’t mad with rage. Lit. But my dearest— Lady A. No, sir, you have precluded the possibility of my ever being so— Lit. Charles, what does this mean ? Roe. Hang me if I know, I have only been here a few minutes, but I found them both fulminating: over that Post. Kate. Do you pretend ignorance, my lord ? Lady A. Listen—you precious intriguers, listen :— [ Reads.] “ Express.—Elopement in high life.—Enormous fortune won by a young barrister .— TVe understand, from the best authority, that an elojiement took place last night from the opera. The imprudent pair are — Mr. Littleton Coke, of qui tarn celebrity, and the great heiress, Miss Rock¬ et—whose fortune is said to exceed 20,000 1. a-year.” Lit. The idiots—what could have caused— Kate. Go on. Lady A. “ Second edition—extraordinary express — ano¬ ther elopement in high life. Last night, the young and ec¬ centric Lady Alice Hawthorn, whose meteoric course through the fashionable world has been greeted with such admira¬ tion, eloped from Lord Pompion’s house, with her cousin , Lord Charles Roebuck. It is stated, one of the parties rode postillion ; our authority omits to mention which.” Lit. The dolts : by what mistake could this have hap¬ pened ? Lady A. By none. Roe. How ? Lady A. ’Tis true. Roe. Lit. How ! true ! Kate. Quite. Lady A. You thought to outwit me and the old peo pie—and thus you set about it. [To Coke.] The lady, be fore whom you spurred and thrashed, sir, was Miss Rock¬ et; [To Roebuck,] and the humble individual who admired your equitation for three hours, was your obliged seivant Lit. What ! and—I—Miss—and he—you—eh ! Roe Coke ! 06 OLD HEADS [Act V Lit. I didn’t—I— [ They look at each other astomshea. Roe. Oh ! but surely this mysterious blunder is not sc serous—it can be mended by— Lady A. What, sir—when all London know that my cousin ran away with—or rather, they don’t know' which of us ran away with the other—ah ! ycu wretch! and in the middle of the night, too—and—no—l must marry Charley after all! [ Crosses to Roebuck , and cries. Kate. And you—sir—you— Lit. I suppose I must marry you, then, after all. Lady A. And all your cunning to outwit the governors has just effected their purposes. Roe. But Kate—surely—you will not, by marrying him to save your character, condemn yourself to eternal misery ? Lit. [ Crosses to Roebuck.] Eternal what, sir? let me tell you, my lord, that this is your fault, your blunder— had I been there, 1— Roe. Mine, sir, mine ! Lit. Yes, your’s. Roc. ’Tis false, sir. Lit. False ! very well, my lord. Roe. I repeat, sir, that— Lit. Enough, the word suffices ; but for this presence, l feel you would have substituted a stronger term, but— [ They speak apart as they go up, R. Kate. My dear Alice, they are quarrelling-. Lady A. No! Kate. They are. I’ve seen so many men do it—I know it in a minute—they’ll fight. Lady A. A duel, and on our account! no more is re¬ quired to complete our destruction. Mr. Coke—Charles —will you listen? [Lord Roebuck goes up.] There’s no¬ thing so like a mad bull as a man in a rage. Charles— M r. Coke, you shall not quarrel; you have not the excuse A' a long dinner; will you hear me? Roe. I repeat, that it was his trusting t( Mr. Rural that has caused this dreadful catastrophe—and to prove it, 1 will find him. [ Exit into house , r. JaI. Rural, could it — it is. Oh, my folly and weakness ! W iiy did I entrust so dear a confidence to him? he must exoneiate me irom this fatal blunder—w r here shall I find .Scene I.] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 67 him? [Goes up, meets Strive, who is c'os sing—speaks in dumb show . Stripe points l. Exit Eittleton Coke , u and Stripe , l. Kate. Alice, dear, what’s to be done ? Lady A. They must not fight, because we can’t spare either of them. Kate. But, do you—do you think, dear, we shall have to—to—exchange them ? Lady A. I don’t know, love ; but it’s very likely ; I ne¬ ver was run away with before : but, I believe, people in such predicaments always do marry, dear, if they can.— f A distant gun. ] What’s that ? Enter Stripe, l. Stnpe. Ready, guard, the Colonel comes—that’s the signal Kate. Oh, Alice, I dare not meet him. Lady A. And I am ashamed ! Rock. [ Outside .] Guard— Kate . Here, in this pagoda. Quick ! [ They enter the pagoda , r. ErUer Colonel Rocket, l., followed by Tom Coke, Lord Pompion, and Lady Pompion. Rock. So! good ! guard, turn in. [Exeunt the men, l.] Stripe ! [Crosses to r. Stripe. Colonel! Rock. [ With suppressed rage.] .The reports ? Stripe. Nothing, sir, particular, till past two this morn- ing. Rock. And then— Stripe. Two carriages arrived half an nour apart, Rock. Whom did they contain ? Strijie. The first, Miss Rocket, and an old gentleman, in the last, only a lady. Lady P. My niece! I knew that girl would come tc some shock in of end. Tom. But she w r as alone. Stripe. Alone ! Tom. [Aside.] There’s a sovereign for you. Rock Stripe—dismiss. [Stripe salutes and exit , l.— 'They all look at each other. DLT) HEAPS [Act V 68 Tom. [Aside.] I feel as if my heart fvas returned to mv body. [ Retires up stage. Lord P. Calm yourself, my dear Colonel—observe my imperturbability. Your daughter has, unfortunately, eloped with her own groom ; a buzz—three days’ ainu sing variations of the story, and it is forgotten. Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell my niece that we await her here. Rock. As for the rascally footboy, I’ll kick him into Chodah—Kate will keep, but let me only catch that old intriguer. Excuse me, your ladyship—till I’ve found him I’m not fit to play the host. [Goes into the house , n. Lady P. Where can Charles be ? Lord P. I heard the shouts as we passed—perhaps they are chairing him. Lady P. Mr. Coke, favour me with your arm—the ex¬ citement has quite unnerved me. [ Tom and Lady Pompion go up , and into the house , r. Lord P. ’Tis done—they are wedded—I’m sure of it. Enter Lord Roebuck, r. Roe. Where can this old—my father! Lord P. Charles, or is it a— Roe. Of course, my lord, you have discovered all—if not, I am not in the vein to deceive you longer. Lord P. What do you mean 1 Roe. That to achieve the hopes of my heart, I was in duced to assume the disguise in which we met last night. Lord P. Then you were— Roc. The groom to Miss Rocket. Lord P. And you are—are married to her '! Roe. I—I— Lord P. Don’t speak, sir—I know—I’ve been duped, and by my own son. Lord Charles ! what excuse—what what—Where’s that meddling old fellow ? This is his doing—his work—I’ll find him—and let him know the consequences of thwarting a minister of state, and a peei }f the realm. [Exit Lord Pvmpion into house , R. Roe. And I, to show him how his folly has severed two young hearts for ever. [Exit Roebuck into house , u, Enter Rural, at the back , r. u. e. Rut Bless me, what a run I’ve had—-joy has given me Scene I/] AND YOUNG HEARTS. 69 youth again, and I really did have a scamper—yes—but— [ Staggers.} Ah! these old limbs—these old limbs. [Sz'A? on a garden chair, c Re-enter Lord Pompion from house , r. Lard P. Oh !—at last—I have found you, sir ! Colonel Rocket rushes down from the house, r Rock. Aha ! Here you are, are you ? Rur. Yes, my dear friends, here I am. Rock. Let me contain myself, and respect his age and * i profession. Harkye, sir, are you not ashamed of your¬ self? Rur. [Aside.} Oh, here come the reproaches.—Yes;— ha ! ha !—I am—I am. Lord P. To connive at the abduction of a young lady by her own groom. Rur. Ha! ha!— [Aside.} He told me not to heed his anger—that he would assume it for policy—I won’t.— | Aloud, and in Lord Pompion’’sface.} Ha ! ha ! ha ! Lord P. And by what authority did you marry my son, sir ? Rur. [Aside.} Ha! ha ! ha ! and he told me to do it— oh, the hypocrite.— [Aloud. ] Ha! ha ! ha! Rock. I respect your position, sir, but— Rur. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Lord P. Mr. Rural, this is indecent. Rur. Ha! ha! ha! ha* [Retires up, l., ivith Lord P Rock. If I remain, I shall forget myself. Writer Lady Alice Hawthorn, Littleton Coke, Miss Rocket, and Roebuck, r. u. e. llur. Aha ! at last, they are here, my blest ones, and 1 am free—give me your hands. [Crosses to Roebuck. Roe. When you have severed our hearts for ever l Rur. Eh ? Kate. Oh, sir, you have destroyed the only hope of my existence. Rur. What! Lady A. What could have actuated you to such n deed? or did you betray us to the Earl and the Colonel, and agree to compromise us into obedience. llur. Bless me—Littleton— 70 OLD HEADS [Act V Lit . Do not look to me for help, Rur. 1—ah— [Aside,] the rascal is keeping up the joke, because the old people are here. Ijady A. Exonerate yourself, sir. Rur. Ila ! Roe. What excuse can you— Rur. Ha! ha ! Kate. You could not have mistaken- Rur. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Lit. Can you not see, sir, this is reality ? Rur. Ha! ha!— [Chokes a laugh,] ha! Lit. Is my ruin a subject for your mirth I Rur. Ha ! ha ! [In wonder , but continuing to laugh. Lady A. It is inhuman! Rur. Ha ! ha! ha ! Lit. Or have you—yes, her suspicions are true, and you have betrayed me. Rur. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Lit. And over such a deed, you can laugh—farewell for ever! [Rural bursts into a paroxysm af hysterical and con- vulsive laughter, Lady Alice Hawthorn runs to Ru¬ ral on one side, Miss Rocket on the other, while Roebuck and Littleton Coke walk up and down on opposite sides. Lady A. Don’t weep, it was no fault of your’s—you would have aided our love if our foolish young hearts had not puzzled your kind olcbhead. Rur. He’s gone! he’s gone !* Lit. No, my dear friend, [Littleton goes to Rural and embraces him, J pardon my cruelty to you : I have slighted your affection, [Looking at Lady A.] and foi what ] Rur. Bless my heart! but I have ruined you. Lit. No ! J Rur. I have, I know I have.—I have ruined my child my—oh, forgive me, will you, Littleton ? Lit. How shall I forgive myself; come, wt will leave this place. [Rural gets up and, clings to him. ] Lailv Alice one word, before I go. Lady A. \ ou shall not, till you have forgiven me. Lit. Forgiven ! Kate. Charles, 1 do repent my cruelty. Scene!.] fND YOUNG HEARTS 71 [Rural goes up with Littleton , Roebuck , and Miss Rocket , r., Colonel Rocket and the Earl speak , r. Enter Tom Coke from the house y r. Rock. 1 trust, my lord, you do not suspect I had any nand in this affair ? Lord P. Let us make the best of it. I have reasons for wishing that the particulars should not be investigated Rock. There, Kate, I don’t forgive you for outflanking your old father; but, [ Whispers t ] damme, girl, you’re right, he’s a dashing fellow. [Crosses to Kate , and goes up, c. Tom. May I beg a moment of your ladyship’s atten¬ tion ? Lady A. Certainly. [They advance , the rest retire a little. Tom. A’m—a—a man of few words, and I don’t think you loike me less for being honest. A’ve none of the ways that the gay young fellows about town cultivate to win women’s hearts with—because I never in my life in¬ tended to win but one, and I meant that should be my wife’s. Lady A. I believe you. Tom. A—ahem.— [Aside.] This wants more than ho¬ nesty, I find. [Pauses—at last loud and bluntly .] A’ve two estates in Yorkshire—a’ve twenty coal pits, and an iron hole—a’ve—a’ve four thousand honest pounds a-year to spend, and a’ve a true English heart, very much at your ladyship’s service—and a’ve—a’ve—that’s all —[A pause ,] coom—don’t hesitate—be honest, as I am—say yes—or —or—no. Lady A. Honestly—I must say—no. Tom. Well—a—that—is—at—least—honest. Yes— ^ is—it is —[He is affected ,] and [Huskily,] may I ash you a straightforward question ? Lady A. Yes. Tom. Do you love another? Lady A. I do. Tom. That s honest, too—oh, I loike it—and—ahem, that other— Lady A. Is your brother. Tom. Littleton ? Lady A. Yes. Tom The ilk you—I—that is—thank you [She retires ,] 72 OLD HEADS •[Act t wi my brother—-wi—very well—and— yes —I'll do’t—1 —- w ill—I out. [Calls.] Brother Littleton. [Coke advances r.] You—love—a—that lady ] Lit. Yes. Tom. Am not surprised at it—and a suppose you knov* lhat she loves you—she told me so—but would you, foi her sake, quit gay London 1 —would you live for her only i Lit. I would, and will. Tom. She’s worthy of a prince’s throne. Brother, oh give her, then, an honest heart, love her as I—as she— loves you, ahem ! [Pauses.] I—Littleton, here is every pa¬ per you ever signed to me ; ’ave never counted them, toi they sickened me to look at. A brought them doon here thinking to restore them to you on my—but—no matter, turn a foolish vanity and—[ Becomes abstracted , after a ‘pause , passes his hand across his eyes,] —’tis past—take them, Littleton, take back my father’s gift—no—I’ll buy no brother’s birthright wi’ a mess of pottage ; and besides, it wouldn’t do for you to go to your rich wife a beggar, and—and—Littleton, 1— [Chokedly and whispering.] God bless you ! [Shakes his hand. Lit. Tom—brother—my friends, I— Tom. [Seizing his hand.] Hush !—h— [Points to the pa’ per, j between ourselves, not a word, not even to minis¬ ter; such things should be sacred, as our mother’s grave —not a word. [They go up affectionately. Lord P. I’ll hear no more. I disapprove of the match —the young man is a pauper, and possesses no rank to ' entitle him. Lit. My lord ! Tom. Not quite a pauper either—my lord, since he possesses nigh two thousand pounds a-year—and is, and ever will be, my only heir to twice as much again. [Shouts without , l. Enter Bob, l. Bob. They’re waiting to chair the member. Lord P. Lord Charles—make haste ! Bob. Not at all. [Loud shouts outside —“ Hurrah foi Coke ! Coke /” Bob. Do you hear 1 Lord P. Impossible ! what’s the state of the poll ? Bob Here it is, at the close. Coke, 218, Roebuck, 2. AND YOUNG HEARTS. 73 Sum i.J Lord P. I've been— [Aside,] stop, I may gain over the new member.— [Aloud.] Mr. Coke, my hasty expression— Roe. How’s this, not married yet 1 Lord P. Ha ! Can it be possible ? then I may save him yet. Colonel, things have assumed an aspect, which— Enter Lady Pompion from house. Lady P. What is all this ? Bob. [Aside to Roebuck.] All light, my lord; [Crosses to the Earl,] see, settle the Earl.— [Aloud.] If your lord- ship will allow me to explain oui interview last evening to the countess. Lord P. Not a word. Bob. The boy, Robert— Lord P. I beseech—my dear children, may heaven bless your felicitous union. Rur. May I unite ’em, may 11 come here, [Calls La¬ dy Alice r., and Miss Rocket, l., takes them under his arms,] bless your young faces, your smiles fall like sun¬ shine on my old heart; this is a delicious moment!— [ Turns round, thereby bringing Miss Rocket to r., and La¬ dy Alice L., pushes them towards their wrong lovers ; then he turns to the audience.] There ! bless you ! may heaven shower its blessings on you, as it now does on me. [Roe¬ buck and Littleton Coke exchange Miss Rocket and Lady Alice behind RuraVs back.] Here’s a feast of joy ! look at this happiness ! [ Turns round to Roebuck, l., sees him em¬ bracing Miss Rocket. J Hollo! bless me! [Turns round , r., and sees Littleton Coke embracing Lady Alice.] Good gracious me ! ha! what, have I mistaken ?—and you— ah! I see—old heads and young hearts ! well, no matter —bless you that way. [ To audience.] I see many young hearts before me, I hope you’re all in love—I do—and that I could unite you all. Well, I bequeath you to the conduct of the old heads; and to them I would say, did you ever see a little child leading an old blind man 1 how can age best repay such a charity ? why, by guiding the blindness of youth, which is love: this is the lost debt due from an old head to a young heart. DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN. Tom. Lady P. Lord P. Lit. Lady A. [r. Ruraj.. Katz. l 1 THE END- ' • 1 • ■ / - : . ‘ - . J < ■ V . > . FRENCH’S MINOR DRAMA. Price IS Cents each.—Bound Volumes $1.25. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 [Gold Is Not VOL. I. The Irish Attorney Boots at the Swan How to Pay the Rent The Loan of a Lover The Dead Shot His Last Legs The Invisible Prince The Golden Farmer VOL. II. Pride of the Market Used Up The Irish Tutor The Barrack Room Luke the Laborer Beauty and the Beast St. Patrick’s Eve Captain of the Watch VOL. III. The Secret [pers White Horse of the Pep- The Jacobite The Bottle Box and Cox Bamboozling Widow’s Victim Robert Macaire VOL. IV. Secret Service Omnibus Irish Lion Maid of Croissy The Old Guard Raising the Wind Slasher and Crasher Naval Engagements VOL. V. Cocknies in California Who Speaks First Bombastes Furioso Macbeth Travestie Irish Ambassador Delicate Ground The Weathercock All that Glitters VOL. VI. Grimsbaw, Bagshaw and Bradshaw Rough Diamond Bloomer Costume Two Bonnycastles Born to Go'od Luck Kiss in the Dark [jurer ’Twould Puzzle a Con-' Kill or Cure VOL. VII. Box and Cox Married and St. Cupid [Settled Go-to-bed Tom The Lawyers Jack Sheppard The Toodles v. The Mobcap Ladies Beware VOL. VIII. Morning Call Popping the Question Deaf as a Post New Footman Pleasant Neighbor Paddy the Piper Brian O’Linn Irish Assurance VOL. IX. Temptation Paddy Carey Two Gregories King Charming Po-ca-hon-tas Cloekmaker’s Hat Married Rake Love and Murder VOL. X. Ireland and America Pretty Piece of Business Irish Broom-maker To Paris and Back for Five Pounds That Blessed Baby Our Gal Swiss Cottage Voung Widow (Fre VOL. XI. 81 O’Flanuigan and the Fai- 82 Irish Post [ries 83 My Neighbor’s Wife 84 Irish Tiger 85 P. P., or Man and Tiger 86 To Oblige Benson 87 State Secrets 88 Irish Yankee VOL. XII. 89 A Good Fellow 90 Cherry and Fair Star 91 Gale Breezely 92 Our Jemimy 93 Miller’s Maid 94 Awkward Arrival 95 Crossing the Line 96 Conjugal Lesson VOL. XIII. 97 My Wife’s Mirror 98 Life in New York 99 Middy Ashore 100 Crown Prince 101 Two Quests 102 Thumping Legacy 103 Unfinished Gentleman 104 House Dog VOL. XIV. 105 The Demon Lover 106 Matrimony 107 In and Ou t of Place 108 I Dine with My Mother 109 Hi-a-wa-tha 110 Andy Blake 111 Love in ’76 [ties. 112 Romance under Difficul- VoL. XV. 113 One Coat for 2 Suits 114 A Decided Case 115 Daughter [nority 116 No; or, the Glorious Mi- 117 Coroner’s Inquisition 118 Love in Humble Life 119 Family Jars 120 Personation VOL. XVI. 121 Children in the Wood 122 Winning a Husband 123 Day After the Fair 124 Make Your Wills 125 Rendezvous 126 My Wife’s Husband 127 Monsieur Tonson 128 Illustrious Stranger VOL. XVII. 129 Mischief-Making [Mines 130 A Live Woman in the 131 Tlie Corsair. 132 Shvlock 133 Spoiled Child 134 Evil Eye 135 Nothing to Nurse 136 Wanted a Widow VOL. XVIII. 137 Lottery Ticket 138 Fortune’s Frolic 139 Is he Jealous! 140 Married Bachelor 141 Husband at Sight 142 Irishman in London 143 Animal Magnetism 144 Highways and By-Wavs VOL. XIX. 145 Columbus 146 Harlequin Bluebeard 147 Ladies at Home 148 Phenomenon in a Smock Frock 149 Comedy and Tragedy 150.Opposite v eighbors 151 Dutchman’s Ghost 152 Persecuted Dutchman VOL. XX. 153 Musard Bail 154 Great Tragic Revival 155 High Low Jack & Game 156 A Gentleman from Ire- 157 Tom and Jerry [land 158 Village Lawyer 159 Captain’s not A-miss 160 Amateurs and Actors VOL. XXL 161 Promotion [ual 162 A Fascinating Individ- 163 Mrs. Caudle 164 Shakespeare's Dream 165 Neptune's Defeat 166 Lady of Bedchamber 167 Take Care of Little 168 Irish Widow [Charley VOL. XXII. 169 Yankee Peddler 170 Hiram Hireout 171 Double-Bedded Room 172 The Drama Defended 173 Vermont Wool Dealer 174 Ebenezer Venture [ter VOL. XXXI. 241 Cool as Cucumber 242 Sudden Thoughts 243 Jumbo Jum 244 A Blighted Being 245 Little Toddlekins 24b A Lover by Proxy [Pal 247 Maid with the Milkinj 248 Perplexing Predicament VOL. XXXII. 249 Dr. Dilworth 250 Out to Nurse 251 A Lucky Hit 252 The Dowager 253 Metamora (Burlesque) 254 Dreams of Delusion 175 Principles from Charae- 255 The Shaker Lovers 176 Lady of the Lake (Trav) VOL. XXIII. 177 Mad Dogs 178 Barney the Baron 179 Swiss Swains t 180 Bachelor’s Bedroom 181 A Roland for an Oliver 182 More Blunders than. One 183 Dumb Belle 1*4 Limerick Boy VOL. XXIV. 185 Nature and Philosophy 186 Teddy the Tiler 187 Spectre Bridegroom 188 Matteo Falcone 189 Jenny Lind 190 Two Buzzards 191 Happy Man 192 Betsy Baker VOL. XXV. 193 No. 1 Round the Corner 194 Teddy Roe 195 Object of Interest 196 My Fellow Clerk 197 Bengal Tiger 198 Laughing Hyena 199 The Victor Vanquished 200 Our Wife VOL. XXVI. 201 My Husband’s Mirror 202 Yankee Land 203 Norah Cfeitia 204 Good for Nothing 205 Tlie First Night 206 The Eton Boy 207 Wandering Minstrel 208 Wanted, 1000 Milliners VOL. XXVII. 209 Poor Pilcoddy 210 The Mummy [Glasses 211 Don’t Forget your Opera 212 Love in Livery 213 Anthony and Cieopatra 214 Trying It On 215 Stage Struck Yankee 216 Young Wife & Old Um¬ brella VOL. XXVIII. 217 Crinoline 218 A Family Failing 219 Adopted Child 220 Turned Heads 221 A Match in the Dark 222 Advice to Husbands 223 Siamese Twins 224 Sent to tlie Tower VOL. XXIX. 225 Somebody Lise > 2.6 Ladies’ Battle 227 Art of Acting 228 Tlie Lady of the Lions 229 The Rights of Man 230 My Husband’s Ghost 231 Two Can Play at that Game 232 Fighting bv Proxy VOL. XXX. 233 Unprotected Female 234 JL-t of tlie Petticoats 235 Forty and Fifty [book 236 Who Stole the Pocket- 237 My Son Diana [sion 238 Unwarrantable T n t r u - 239 Mr. and Mrs. White 240 A Quiet Family ■ich 5 Minor Drama Continued on 3d page of Cover.) 256 Ticklish Times VOL. XXXIII. 2 57 20 Minutes with a Tiger 258 Miralda; or, the Justic of Tacon 259 A Soldier’s Courtship 260 Servants by Legacy 261 Dying for Love 262 Alarming Sacrifice 263 Valet de Sham 264 Nicholas Nickleby VOL. XXXIV. 265 The Last of the Pigtail; 266 King Rene’s Daughter 267 The Grotto Nymph 26S A Devilish Good Joke 269 A Twice Told Tale 270 Pas de Fascination v71 Revolutionary Soldier 272 A Man Without a Head VOL. XXXV. 273 The Olio, Part 1 274 Tne Olio, Part 2 275 The Olio, Part 3 [te 276 The Trumpeter’s Daugb 277 Seeing Warren 278 Green Mountain Boy 279 That Nose 280 Tom Noddv’s Secret VOL. XXXVI. 281 Shocking Events 282 A Regular Fix 283 Dick Turpin 284 Young Scamp 285 Young Actress 286 Call at No. 1--7 287 One Touch of Nature 288 Two B'hoys VOL. XXXVII. 289 Ail the World’s a Stag! 290 Quash, or Nigger Prat 291 Turn Him Out [tic 292 Pretty Girls of Stillberg 293 Angel of the Attic 294 Circumstances alter Cast 295 Katty O’Sheal 296 A Supper in Dixie VOL. XXXVIII. 297 lei on Parle Francais . 298 Who Killed Cock Robii 299 Declaration of Indepent 300 Heads or Tails [enc 301 Obstinate Family 302 My Aunt 303 That Rascal Pat 304 D 011 Paddy de Bazan VOL. XXXIX. [tut 305 Too Much for Good N? 306 Cure for the Fidgets 307 Jack’s the Lad 308 Much A do A bout No thin 309 Artful Dodger 310 Winning Hazard 311 Day’s Fishing f&< 312 Did you ewr send youi VOL. XL. 313 An Irishman’s Maneuve 314 Cousin Fannie 315 ’Tisthe Darkest Hourbt 316 Masquerade [fore Daw 317 Crowding the Season 318 Good Night’s Rest 319 Man with the Carpet Ba 320 Terrible Tinker SAMUEL FRENCH. 26 West 22d Street, New York City. New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request.