Full many a year Did he hand, reef, and steer, And by no means consider'd himself as small beer, A sailor ne'er moans; So, consigning the bones Of his friend to the locker of one Mr, Jones, On the voyage it appears That he rescued a maid from the Dey of Algiers; That the Poet begins,-thus commencing his play. ACT I. Giles Gaussen accosts old Sir Maurice de Beevor, And hints he may find some more work for him yet; If she'll buy him (Sir Maurice) a farm near the Ex. "Take, take it," she cries; "but secure every document.”— "A bargain," says Maurice," including the stock you meant?” The Captain, meanwhile, With a lover-like smile And a fine cambric handkerchief wipes off the tears Does not know how to act. It's her very first visit-and then to begin One with mustaches too-and a tuft on his chin She "really don't know— He had much better go." Here the Countess steps in from behind, and says "No!— ACT II. After dinner the Captain recounts with much glee And his hair-breadth escapes, Talks of boa-constrictors, and lions, and apes, And fierce Bengal Tigers" like that which you know, Then diverging a while, he adverts to the mystery With the Algerine fleet, And forced them by sheer dint of arms to retreat, Here just touch'd her toe, and she moved on her seat,) In short, he so chatter'd, Now lively, now serious, so ogled and flatter'd, Captain Norman's adventures were not yet half done, Bounces into the room, And talks to his guest as you'd talk to a groom, Claps his hand on his rapier, and swears he'll be through him— His hate of his brother, He rails at his cousin, and blows up his mother. "Fie! fie!" says the first. Says the latter, "In sooth, This is sharper by far than the keen serpent's tooth!" A remark, by the way, which King Lear had made years ago, (When he ask'd for his Knights, and his Daughter said "Here's a go!") This made Ashdale ashamed; But he must not be blamed Too much for his warmth, for, like many young fellows, he Still, speaking quite gruff He goes off in a huff; Lady A., who is now what some call " Straight determines to patch up to snuff," Between the Sea-Captain she dreads like Old Scratch, 1 ACT III. Miss Violet takes from the Countess her tone; "The night being dark," Though "the moon," the Sea. Captain says, rises in Heaven "One hour before midnight,"-i. e. at eleven. From which speech I infer, -Though perhaps I may err,— That, though weatherwise, doubtless, midst surges and surf, he When " capering on shore," was by no means a Murphy. He starts off, however, at sunset to reach An old chapel in ruins, that stands on the beach, Has just given Father Onslow a knock on the pate, Norman kneels by the clergyman fainting and gory, And tells him all how and about it—and dies! ACT IV. Norman, alias Le Mesnil, instructed of all, And threatens to have him turn'd out of the house. Till, in spite of her fears, She admits he's the son she had cast off for years, Just as if in a joke, Determined to put in his wheel a new spoke, And slips off thus disguised, when he sees by the dial it ACT V. Now comes the Catastrophe-Ashdale, who's wrapt in Captain Norman himself, by the cut of his clothes. And just as the knife Of the Pirate is raised to deprive him of life, The Captain comes forward, drawn there by the squeals Saves the hangman a job, And executes justice more strictly, the rather, 'Twas the spot where the rascal had murder'd his father. Then in comes the mother, Who, finding one brother Had the instant before sav'd the life of another, Ashdale puts a good face On the matter; and, since he's obliged to give place, For gossip and scandal, Sets the whole of the papers alight with the candle; Are, N. takes the personals; A., in requital, Keeps the whole real property, Mansion, and Title. Sea-voyage as a bride in the "Royal Eliza." Both are pleased with the part they acquire as joint heirs, And old Maurice Beevor is bundled down stairs! MORAL. The public, perhaps, with the drama might quarrel "Young Ladies of property, "Young Noblemen! shun every thing like a brawl; "And you, ye Sea-Captains! who've nothing to do That you can't get on well, long, without you've a wife, VINCENT EDEN; OR, THE OXONIAN. BY QUIP. CHAPTER X. CONTAINS A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE PROCEEDINGS AT HENLEY. THE indisposition of the sable sufferer above stairs was by no means allowed to interfere with the hilarity of the dinner party below. In vain had his Royal Highness repeatedly intimated, through the medium of his secretary, his inability to proceed to Oxford that night, in consequence of the severe cold and fever which he had contracted through his ardent desire of witnessing every thing English,-in vain had he implored the revellers, through the same respectable agency, to allow him a little repose from their uproarious festivities. The cloth had been withdrawn, the wine circulated, and the healths of the Mayor and Corporation of Henley been drunk individually, collectively, and in short, according to every possible form and modification of modern toast-giving; while Mr. Richardson Lane was already half way through a curiously compounded recitation, expressive of the humours of a country fair, into which he had dashed headlong at the request of the above mentioned dignitaries of Henley. "Walk this way, ladies and gentlemen-this way, if you please. Here you are a penny a peep, twopence a show, and a long look for sixpence. Stand out of the way, you little rascals, with dirty hands and no halfpence in 'em, and let them nice well-behaved young gentlemen, with clean faces and copper coins in their fingers, come and see what they'll first tell me they never saw before, and then go home and tell their grannies they want to see again immediately, if not sooner. "Here you are-gingerbread nuts-gingerbread nuts, all hot! all hot! Try 'em, buy 'em, buy 'em, try 'em-all hot, gingerbread nuts. (With a sigh)-Oh, what beauties! |