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GEORGIA MADISON COUNTY.
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IV HERE AS Jacob Strickland, Administra
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WILLIAM SANDERS, c. c. o.
Jan 13 37 6m.
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son Inf.'CourtJor leave to sell the Real Es
qf LPonidas Few, dec’d. -far the bench of the
iieirs rand creditors. • f . , ‘
0. J, M’CULLOCK, Adm’s.
May 12,
E / //hi jl i E
;| I I -fi 11 I 1 1 I ! i i *1 ! l 1
THE LIDY OF ETOAS;
OR
LOVE AND PRIDE.
P AY IN FIVE ACTS. BY E. L. EULWER.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Bcauseant (a rich gentleman cf Lyons, in love
with, and refused by, Pauline Deschappelles.)
Glavis (his friend, also a rejected suitor to Pauline)
Colonel, afterward General, Damas, (cousin to
Madame Deschappelles, and an officer in the
French army)
Monsieur Deschappelles [a Lyonnese Merchant,
father to Pauline']
Landlord of the Golden Lion.
Gaspar. /
Claude Melnottc.
First Officer.
Second Officer.
Third Officer.
Servants, Notary, eje-
Madame Deschappelles.
Pauline [her daughter]
The Widow Ifelnotte [mother to Claude]
Janet [the innkeeper's daughter]
Marian [maid to Pauline]
Scene— Lyons and the neighborhood.
Time— l 79
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A room in the house of M. Deschappelles, at Lyons.
Pauline reclining on a sofa; Marian, her maid,
fanning her. Flowers and notes on a table beside j
the sofa. Madame Deschappelles seated. The ■
gardens are seen from the open window.
Mad. Des. Marian, put that rose a little
more to the left. (Marian alters the position
of a rose in Pauline’s hair.) Ah, so! that
improves the air, the tournure, the je ne scats
quoi! You are certainly very handsome
child ! quite my style ! I don’t wonder that
you make such a sensation! Old, young,
rich, and poor do homage to the Beauty of
Lyons! Ah, we live again in our children,
especially when they have our eyes and com
plexion !
Paul, (languidly) Dear mother, you will
spoil your Pauline ! (Aside) I wish I knew
u ho sent me these flowers !
Mad. Des. No child ! if I praise you, it is
poly to inspire you with a proper ambition.
You are born to make a great marriage. Beau
ty is valuable or worthless according as you
invest the property to the best advantage.
Marian go and order the carriage! [jEx/7
Marian.
Paul. Who can it bo that sends me every
day these beautiful flowers ? how sweet they
are!
(Enter Servant )
Ser. Monsieur Boauseant, madam.
Mad. Des. Let him enter. Pauline, this
is another offer ! T know it is ! Your father
should engage an additional clerk to keep the
account-book of vo ir conquests.
(Enter Beauseant.)
Beaus. Ah, ladies, how fortunate I am to
find you at home ! (Aside) How lovely sh
looks! It is a great sacrifice I make in mar
rying into a family in trade ! they will be eter
nally grateful ! (Aloud) Madame, thou will
permit me a word « ith your charming daugh
ter. (Approaches Pauline, who rises disdain
fully) Mademoislle, I have ventured to wail
upon you, in a hope that you must long since
have divined. List night, when you out
shone all the beauty of Lyons, you completed
vour conquest over me 1 You know that my
fortune is not exceeded by any estate in the
province; you know that but for the revolu
tion, w hich has defrauded me of my titles, 1
should be noble. May I, then trust that yon
will not reject my alliance? I offer you my
hand and heart.
Paul. [Aside.] He has the air of a man
who confers a favour 1 [AZowd] Sir, you are
very condescending; I thank you humbly;
but being duly sensible of myown demerits you
must allow me to decline the honour yon pro.
pose. (Courtesies, and turns away.)
Beaus. Dieline! impossible! you are not
serious ! Madame, suffer me to appeal to you.
lam a suiter for your daughter’s hand ; the
settlements shall be worthy her beauty and my
station. May I wait on M. Deschappelles?
Mad. Des. M. Deschappelles never inter
seres in thb domestic arrangements ; you are
very obliging. If you were still a marquis,
or if my' daughter were intended to marry a
commoner, why, perhaps, we might give you
the preference.
Beaus. A commoner !we are all common
ers ix France now.
Dam Des. In France, yes; but there is a
nobility still left in the othei countries in Eu
rope. We are quite aware of your good quali
ties and don’t doubt that you will find seme
lady more suitable to your pretensions. We
shall be always happy to see vou as an ac
quaintance, M. Beaiiseai't! My dear child,
the carriage will be here presently.
Beaus. Say no more, madamel say no!
more! [AsttZe] Refused! and by a merchant's j
daughter' refused! It will be all over Ly
ons before sunsent! I will go and bury myself
in my chateau, study philosophy, and turn
woman hater. Refused! 'hey ought to be
sent to ti madhouse I Ladies I have the lion
mir to wish you a very good-morning. [Exit.
Beauseant.
Mad. Des. How forward these men are!
I think, child, we kept up onr dignity. Any
girl, however inexperienced knows how to ac
cept an offer.b tit requires a vast deal to nd
dress to refuse o' e with ptoper condescension
and disdain. I used to practise it at school
with the dancing master !
[Enter Damas.]
Dam. Good morning. Cousi’i Deschnppel
les. Well, Pauline, have you recovered from
last night’s ball ? So many trumphs must be
very fatiguing. Even M. Glavis sighed most
piteously when you departed ; butthat might,
be the effect of the supper.
Paul. M. Glavis, indeed !
Mad. Des. M.Glavis! as if my daughter
would think of M. Glavis !
Dem. Heyday! why not? His father
left him a very pretty fortune, and his birth is
higher thnn’yours, Cousin D schappelles.
But perhaps you are locking to M. B au«eiint;
his father was a marquis before the revolt!,
tion.
Paul. M. Beauseant! Couffnyou dt ’ight
, in tormenting roe !
I Mad. Des. Don’t mind him, Pau'it’e!
Cousi ‘Dumas, vou have no susc ptibihty of
feeling; there is acer ain indelicacy in all
your ideas. M. Beauseant k ows alreadv
that h“ is no match f>r my daughter!
Dam. Pooh! pooh! one would think vou
intei dad vour daughter to marry a piince!
Mud. Des, Well, and if I did I what then ?
Many a fo/eign priiioq—•<
“WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” JefforSOH.
j Dam. [interrupting her.] Foreign prince !
foreign fiddlestick/ You ought (o be ashamed
of such nonsense atyour timeofhfe.
Mad. Des. My time of life ! That is an
expression never applied to any lady till she
is sixty nine and three quarters; and only
then by the clergyman of the parish.
Enter Servant,
Ser. Madame, the carriage is at the door.
[ Exit servant.
Mad. Des. Come, child, put on your bou
, net; you reallv have a very thoroughbred air;
not at all tike your poor father. [Fondly]
Ah, you little coquette! when a young lady is
always making mischief, it is a sure sign that
she takes after her mother !
Paul. Good-day, Cousin Damas, and a
| better humour to you back to the table
and talcing the flowers.] P/ho could have seat
me these flowers?
[Exit Pauline and Madame Deschappelles.
Dam. That would be an excellent girl it
her head had not been turned. I fear she is
now become incorrigible’ Zounds, what a
lucky fellow I am to be still a bachelor! They
may talk of thu devotion of the sex, but the
most faithful alt-whuient in life is that of a
Woman in love—with herself! [Exit.
SCENE 11.
The exterior of a small village inn—sign the Golden
Lion—a few leagues from Lyons, which is seen at a dis
tance.
Beaus, [fteftind the scenes.] Yes, you may
bait the horses; we shall rest hreau hour.
[Enter Bcauseant and Glavis.]
Gia. Really, my dear B -auseant, consid
er that I have promised to spend day or two
with you at your chateau ; that I am quite at j
your mercy for my entertainment ; and yet you
are as silent and as gloomy as a rn te at a iti
nera! or an Englishman at a party of pleas
ure.
Beaus. Bear with me! the fact is that I
am miserable.
Gla. You, the richestand gayest bachelor
in Lyons ?
Beaus. Il is because lam a bachelor that
lam miserable. Thou knovve.-t Pauline, the
only daughter of the rich merchant, Mons.
Deschappelles ?
Gla. Know her! who does not? as pret
ty as Venus and as proud as Juno.
Beaus. Her taste is worse than her pride
[drawing himself up.] Know. Glavis, she h. s
actually refused me !
Gla, [aaic/a.] S >she has me ! very conso
ling ! In ail eases of heartache, the applica
tion of another man’s disappointment draws
out the pain and allays the irritation. [AZoatZ]
Refused you! and wherefore?
Beaus. 1 know not, unless it be because
the revolution swept away rny father’s title of
marquis, and she will not many a commoner.
Now, as we have no noblemen in Fiance, as
we are all citizens and equals, she can only
hope that, in spite of the war, some English
milord or German count will risk his life by
coming to Lyons and making her my lady.
Refused me, and with scorn ! By Heaven
I’ll not submit to it tamely; I’m in a perfect
f ver of mortification and rage. Refuse me.
indeed !
Gla. Be comforted, my dear fellow ; I will
tell you-u secret. For the same reason she
refused MF. !
Beaus. You ! that’s a very different matter 1
But give me your hand, Glavis ; we’ll think oi
some plan to humble her. By Jove, I should
like to see her married to a strolling player!
Enter landlord and his daughter from the inn.
Land. Your servant, Citizen Beauseant ;
servant, sir. Perhaps you will take dinner
before you proceed to your chateau ; our lar
ger is most plentifully supplied.
Beaus. I have no appetite.
Gia. Nori. Still it is bad travelling on
an empty stomach. TFhat have you got'!
Takes and looks over the bill of fare.
[Shout without] “Long live the priuC. ! Lung
live the prince !”
Beaus. The prince ! what prince is that I
I thought we had no princes left in France.
Land. Ha, ha! the lads always call him
prince. He has just won the prize in the
shooting-match, and they are taking him home
in triumph.
Beans. Him 1 and who’s Mr. Him?
Laud. Who should he be but the pride of
the village, Claude Melnotte? Os course you
have heard of Claude Melnotte?
Gia. [giving back the bill of fare.] Never
had that honour. Soup, ragout of hare, roast
chicken, and, in short, all you have !
Beaus. The son of old Melnotte the gar.
dener?
Land. Exactly so; a wonderful young
man.
Beaus. How wonderful? are his cabbage
better than other people’s?
Nay he don’t garden any more ; his father
left him well off. He’s only a genus;
Gli. A what?
Land. A genus ! a man who can do every,
thing in lite, except anything that’s useful ;
that’s a genus.
Beaus. You raise my curiosity ; proceed.
Land. lUdl, then, about four years ago
old Melnotte died and left his soirwrll to do in
the world. .We then all observed that a great
change came over young Claude; he took
to reading and Lati >, and hired a professor
from Lyons, who had so much in his head that
he was forced to wear a great, full bottom wig
to cover it. Then he took a feucirg.master
and a dancing.master, and a music-master ;
and then he learned to paint; and at last it
was said that young Claude wis to go t Par
is and set up for a painter. The lads laughed
at him at first; but he; is a stout fellow, is
Claud.', am! as brave as a lion, and soon taught.
them to laugh the wrong side of limit mouths;
and now all th ■ boys swear by him and all the
girls pray for him.
Beans. A promising youth, certainly !
And why do they c 11 him pri: ci- ?
Land. Partly because he is at the lit ad of
them all and partly because he has such a
proud way with him, and wears such fine
clothes ; and, in short, looks like a prince.
Beaus. A d whaf cons; have tur ted the
foolish lefow’s brain ? The revolutio 1 sup
pose ?
La d Y"s, the revola'io i that turns us all
fopsvfur y—the revolution of love.
B inis. R ma tic you g Corydon? And
v uh u horn is he in lov ■ ?
Land. U hy—but it is u secret, gentlemen.
Bt-ans. Oh! c.tailv.
Land, Why, th a, I hear from his mother
■ g'od soul! th ii i< is i,<> |. s<i than the Beauty
■it Lyo: s, Pauli n- Deschappelles.
B aus. and Gll. 11. Iha ! Capital !
Land. You may laugh, but it is as true as
I stand here.
Reaus. A d what does the Beauty of Lyo 's
• ay to his suit ?
Land. Lord, sir, she never even condesceU
> di d to look at him, though when he was a boy
ATIIEAS, GKOR4HA. SA'ITOAY, JUNE 30, £B3S
he worked in her father’s garden.
Beaus. Are you sure of that ?
Land. His mother says that mademoiselle
does not know him by sight.
Beaus, (taking Glavis aside.) I have hit it;
here is our revenge ! Here is a prince for out
haughty damsel. Do you take me ?
Gia. Deuse take me if I do !
Beaus. Blockhead ! it’s as clear as a map.
What if we could make this elegant clown
pass himself off ng a foreign prince ? lend him
money, clothes, equipage for the purpose?
make him propose to Pauline ? marry Pauline ?
Would it not be dciicious?
Gia. Hal ha! excellent! But how shall
we support the necessary expenses of bis hio-h
ness ?
Beaus. Pshaw ! Revenge is worth a much
larger sacrifice than a few hundred louis ; as
tor details, my valet, ieliie trustiest fellow in the
world, and shall have the appointment of his
highness’s establishment. Let’s go to him al
once, and sec if he be really this Admirable
(' richton.
Gia. With all my heatt; but the dinner ?
Beaus. Always thinking of dinner ! Hark
ye, landlord, how far -is it to young Melnotte’s
coltage ? 1 should like to see such a prodigy.
Land. Turn down the lane, then strike
across the common, and you will see his moth
er’s cottage.
Beaus. True, he lives with his mother.
(aside) We will not trust to an old woman’s
discretion; better send for him hither. I’ll
just step in and write him a nete. Come,
Glavis.
Gia. Yes; Beausea it, Glavis, and Co., man
ufacturers of princes. wholesale and retail; an
uncommonly genteel line of business. But
why so grave?
Beaus. You think any cf the sport, I of the
revenge.
[Exeunt within the inn.
scene in.
The interior of Melnolte’s cottage; flowers j
placed here and. there; a guitar on an oaken
table, with a portfolio, dpc.; a picture on an
cas’d, covered by a curtain ; fencing foils
crossed over the mantelpiece ; an attempt at
refinement in spite of the homeliness of the
furniture, <Spc.; a staircase to the right con
ducts to the upper story.
(Shout without) “Long live Claude MeL
i.otte!” “ Loig live the prince!”
Mid. MeZ. Hark! there’s my dear son;
carried off the prize. I’m sure: and now he’ll
want to treat them all.
Mel. (opening the door.) What! you won’t
cotne in, my Irieuds ! Well, well, there’s a
trifle to make merry elsewhere. Good-day to
you all, good-day.
(Shout) “ Hurrah! Long live Prince
Claud. I”
(Enter Claude Melnotte, with a rife in his
hand.)
Mel. Give me joy, dear mother! I’ve wo.
the prize! never missed one shot! Is it no.
handsome, this gun?
Wid. Humph! Well, what is it worth,
Claude ?
Mel Worth! What is a riband worth to
a soldier? Worth! everything! Glory is
priceless!
Wid. L< ave glory to great folks. Ah!
Claude, Claude, castles in the air cost a vas’
deal to keep up! How is ail this to end?
What good does it do thee to learn Latin, and
sing songs, and play on the guitar, and fine-.
and dance, and paint pictures ? AH very fine ;
but what does it bring in?
MeZ. Wealth ! wealth, my mother! Wealth
to the mind, wealth to the heart, high thoughts
bright dreams, the hope of fame, the ambition
to bt worthier to love Pauline,
Wid. My poor son! The young lady will
never think of thee.
Mel. Do the stars think of us? let if the
1 prisoner see them shine into his dungeon,
wouldst thou bid him turn away lheir lustre?
Ever, so from this low cell,of poverty I lilt my
eyes to Pauline and forget my chains. (Goes
to the picture and draws aside the curtain.)
See, this is her image, painted from memory.
Oh. how the canvass wrongs her! (Takes
I up the brush and throws it aside.) I shall t ever
be a painter. I can paint no likeness but. one,
and that is above.all art. I would turn iol-
Idier; France needs soldiers! But to leave
the air that Pauline breathes! What is the
hour? so late? I will tell thee a secret, moth
er, Thouk; owest that for the last six weeks
I have sent every dav the rarest flower- to Pau
line; she wears them. I have seen them on
her breast. Ah, arid then the whole universe
seem 'd filled with odours! I have now grown
more bold ; I hive policed my worship into
I poetry ; I have sent the verses to Pauline; I
! have signed them with my own name. My
messc ger ought to be back bv this time; 1
■ ba ’e him wait for the answer.
Wid. Ard what answer do you expec*.
1 Claude?
Mel. That which the Queen of Navarre
sent tn the poor troubadour: 1 Let me see the
oracle that can tel) nations I am beautiful!’’
She wil] admit me. Ish ill hear her speak;
I sha’l meet her eves ; I shall read upon her
cheek the sweet th.ougbts that translate them
selves into blushes. Then, then, oh, then she
may forget that I am the peasant’s son !
Wid N .v, if she will but hear thee talk,
Claude !
Mel. I foresee it all. She will t"!l me
that desert is the true rank. She will give
me a hedge, a flower, a glove ! Ob rapture I
I ‘■hall join the armies of the republic; 1 shall
rise ; I shal' win a name that b -aiitv will not
blush to hear. I shall retur with th'- right to
sav toher. “ S'o how love does notleve! the
proud, but mis 'th- humble !” Oh, bow mv
heart swells withi■> me ! Oh. what glorious
prophets of the future are yon'h mid bone!
[Knock at. the door.
Wid. Qomo in.
Enter Gaspar.
Mel. Well - ..me,Gaspar, welcome. Where
is tin letter? Whv do vou turn awnv. man?
where is th-:' biter? Gaspar gives him one.
This ! This is mine, the one I intrusted to
tine. D’f’st thou not leave it?
Gasp. Yes, I loft it.
M ■!. My own verses returned to me.
Nothing else ?
Gasp. Thou wilt be proud to liearh >w thv
messenger Was lio ■< ure,'. !’■ rthv sake, jlZel
iiotte, 1 hav borne that which I’re chmnn can
bear without disgrace
.Me’. Disgrace, Gaspar! Disgrace»
Gasp. I gave thv L Iter to the porter, who
passed it from laekev to hickey till it reached
the lady it was m-'aiit for.
Mel. It reached h ■>-. th - - ; vou are sure
ofthat? Itieachc'jb r; w 11, well !
Gasp. It reached Iv r, and was returned to
me with blows. Dos hear, elnofte ? with
blows! Death! are we slaves still, that we
are to be thus dealt with, we peasants 5
Zl/el. With blows? No, Gaspar, no ; no
blows !
Gasp. I could show thee the marks if i
were not so deep a shame to bear them. Th<
lackey who tossed thy letter into the mir<
sworn that his lady and her mother never wer<
so insulted. What could thy letter contain,
Claude ?
Mrl. looking over the letter. Not a line
that a serf might not have written to an em
press. No, not one.
Gasp. They promise thee the same greet
ing they gave me if thou wdt pass that way.
Shall We endure this, Claude !
Mel. Wringing Gaspar’s hand. Forgive
me, the fault was mine ; I have brought this
on thee ; I willl not forget it ; thou shaft be
j avenged! The heartless insolence !
I Gasp. Thou art moved, M . laotte ; think
( not of me ; I would go through fire and water
|to serve thee ; but. a blow ! It is not the
bruise that galls, it is the blush, M -Inotte.
Afel. Say, what message ? How insulted?
Wherefore ? What the offence ?
Gasp, Did you not write to Pauline Des,
chappelles. the daughter of the rich merchant?
Mel. PFell?
Gasp. And are you not a peasant, a gar
den r’s son ? that was the offence. Sleep on
it, ?; -Inotte. Blows to a French citizen, blows!
[Exit.
Wid. Now you are cured, Claude I
Mel. tearing the letter. So do I scatter
h.-r image to the winds ; I will stop her in th
open streets ; I will insult her ; I will beat her
menial ruffians ; I will Turns suddenly to
the window. Mo’her, am I humpbacked, dc
form -d, hideous?
Wid. You!
Mel. A coward, a thief, a liar?
Wid. You t
Mel. Ora dull fool; a vain, drivelling,
brainless ideot ?
Wid. Nn.uo
Mel. W hat am I then; worse than ail
these? Whv, sam a peasant! What has a
peasant to do with love? Vain revolutions,
why lavish your ciunlty en the great ? Oh
that we, we, the hewers of wood and drawers
of water, hid been sweept away, so that the
proud might learn what, the world would be
without us ? Knock at the dooi.
Enter servant.from the inn.
Serv A letter for Citizen Mvlnotte.
Mel. A letter! from her perhaps; who
sent I het ? .
Serv. Whv, Monsieur—l mean Citizen
Beauseant, who stops to dine at the Golden
Lion on his way to his chateau.
Mil. B nausea:-t ! reads.
"Young man, I know thy secret ; thou Invest
above thy station : ifthcu hast wit, courage
a d discretion, I can secure to thee the reali
zation of thy most sanguine hopes: and the
■■de condition I ask in retur is, that th >u shaft
he steadfast to thine own ends. I shall de
mand from thee a solemn oath to marry her
whom thou Invest; to bear her. to thine home
in thv wedding night. lam serious ; if thou
wouldst learn more, lose not a moment, but fol
tow the bearer of this lett- r to thy friend and
patron, Charles Beuseant.”
Mel. Can! believe my eyes? Are otir
own passions the sorcerers that raise up for us
spirits of good or evil ? 1 will go instantly.
W,d. What is this. Claude?
Mel. “Marry her whom thou Invest;”
“bear her to thine o u home;” oh. r-v ht:'
and love ! which of you is the strongest ? Gaz
ing on the picture Sweet face, thou smilest
on me from the canvass : weak fool that I am,
■Io 1 then love her still? No, it is the vision
of my own romance that I have worshipped ;
it. is the reality, to which I bring scorn for
scorn. Adieu, mother; I will return anon.
My brain reels; the earth swims before me.
Looking again at the letter. No, it is not a
mockery ; 1 du not dream! Exit.
ACT 11.
SCENE I.
The gardens of M. Deschappelles's house at
Lyons; the house seen at the back of the
stage.
Enter Beauseant and Glavis.
Beaus. TFell, what think you of my plot?
Has it not succeeded to a miracle? The in
stant that I introduced his highness the prince
of (-omc to the pompous mother and the scorn
ful daughter, it was ail over with them : he
came, lie saw, he conquered ; and, though it
is not many days since he arrived, they' have
already promised him the hand of Pauline.
Glav. It is lucky, though, that you told
i them his highnt ss travelled incognito, for fear
■ the directory, u ho are not very fond of princes,
should lay him by the heels ; for he has a
wonderful wish tokei p up his rank, and scat
ters our gold about with as much coolness as
ifhe were watering his own flower-pots.
Beaus. True, he is damnably extravagant;
I think the sly dog does it out of malice.
However, it must be owned that he reflects
credit on his loyal subjects, and makes a very
pretty figure in his fn e clothes, with my dia
mond snuff-box—
Glav. And my diamond ring! But do you
thii k lie will be firm to the Inst? 1 fancy I
sec symptoms of relenfi. g; he will never
; keep up Ins rank if he ot.ee Jet out his con
science.
Beaus. His oath binds him; he cannot re
tract without being forsworn, and these low
follows ar«-always superstitious. But, as it
, is, 1 tremble li st tie be discovered ; that bluff
! Uokmel Damas (Madam D schapp. Iles’s con-
■ sin) evidently sc spects him ; we must make
h ste and couctud- tin taice; I have thought
of a plan to e d it this v< ry day.
, Gia. This very day ! Poor Pauline! her
dream will he soon over.
Be us. Yes, tics dyth y sh II be mar
tied; this evening, according to his oath, be
shall carrv his bride to the G.'ldei 1 Lio ■, and
then pomp, equip ge, retinue, mid title, all
sh ill vanish at me ; and her highness the
princess sk ill fi d that she has reiused the sou
of a marquis to many the sou ot a 'raidam r.
Oh Pauli: ('! <mcr loved, now halt d, } > t still
ot’ii'lii.qmsh. d. th- n shait dram the cup to
the dregs, ilioti shaitk ow what it is to be burn
bled !
Fvter from the house, Jbl volte as the Prince of Como
J pfinn hi Pauline; Beschagpdles fitnnin#
herr.f; and Colon i t Duma*.
and Glacis how respectfully. Pauline and
yt laotte ualk apart.
Mad. D< s. G > ‘d.mor• ing. g< ntlemen ;
real v. I am so fatigu 'd with I ngh'er: th
I '. r ’p - is si. ti lt ii g. Mh.t« it he
! I .\, IV o>e mav see that he has spent his
I . in. . hf. i c mis.
I Dam. And what the dense do you know
j ,!».ml <■ urts, (’miisi D schappell. s ? lou
. 1(! riiid me just as you buy books;
voi c i', wtia'tst them, but how they
bu .la dleiur- . ’Sdeath. 1 don’t think
I you would even look at your Bible ii it had
.ot u title to it.
Mad. D< s. How coarse you are, Cousin
Damas quite the manners of a barrack; you
lou’t deserve to be one of our family ; really
we must drop your acquaintance when Pauline
•nariies. I cannot patronise any relations th.
would discredit my future son-in-law th
Prince cf Como.
Mid, ad.vancing. These are beautiful gar
lens, rnadame ; Bcauseant and Glavis retire.
Who planned them ?
Mad. D.-s. A gardener named Melnofte,
our highness ; an honest man who knew Ims
station. I can’t say as much for his son, a
presuming fellow, who—ha J ha/—actually
wrote verses —such doggerel I — to rny daugh.
ter
Paul. Yes, how you would have laughed
at thetn, prince ! you who write such beautiful
verses !
Mel. This Meluotte must be a monstrous
impudent persen ' .
Dun. Is he good-looking?
Mad. Des. I nevi r notice such canaille !•«'.:
ugly ,tnean lo.iki g clown, if I remember right.
Dam. Yet I heard your porter say he was
wonderfully like flis highness.
Mel. [taking lou are complimen-
ts r .
Mad. Des. For rhatde, Ccusia D.imrts'
lik the prince indeed.
Paul. Like you! Ah, mother, like our
beautiful prince ’ I'll never speak to you again
Cousin D itnas.
M l. aside. Humph I rank is a great baan
;ifier ! I never passed for an Apbllo while I
was a peasant; if lam so handsome as a
prince, what slio dd I bo as an emperor? Aloud
Mmsi. ur Beausea.it, will you honour me?
offers snuff.
Beaus. No, your highness; I have no
small vices.
Mel. Nay, ifit were a vice you’d be sure
to have it, Monsi- tir B'usea..t.
Mad D-s. B-ilhd how very severe!
what wit/
Braus., in a rage, and aside. Curse his im
pertinence !
Mad. Des. TFhat a superb snuff-box!
Paul. A'd u hat a beautiful ring /
Me You like the box a trifle; int. resting, per
haps, from associiuions ; a pivs - t from Louis
XIV. to my great-great-grandmother. Hon
our me by accepting it.
8.-aiis plucking him by the sleeve. How!
yvaih the devil! My box ! arc you mad? It is
worth five hundri d louis.
M- !. unheeding I; im. and turning to Pauline.
And you ilk.- ibis rii g? Ah. it has, indeed, a
Im ti-'- since your eyes have shone on it 2>Za
L.-jg- it on her finger, lie,cefm-th hold me sweet
mhantresn. the Slave of the Ring.
Gia. pulLtig him Stay, stay ; what are
\ ini ab nt? My maiden aunt’s legacy ; a dia
mond old:.- first water, lou shall be hang
ed for swi dh g, sir.
Mel. pretending not tohear.
It is curious, tins ring! it is the one with ,
which my gr, adf'-thcr, the Doge of Venice,
married th-- Adriatic !
MarZante and Pauline examine the ring.
Mel. to Bcauseant and Glavis. Fy, gentle. I
m.' . pii.c s mu-- be ge erous! 1. urns to Da
mas, who watches them closely These kind !
triends hove my i. terest so much at heart that
they are as careful of my property as if it
were llu ir ou ■. !
Tiec-is. and Gla. (confusedly.) Ha! ha!
very geo ; jok; that!
:r to remonstrate with Melncite in
dumb show.)
Dam. M hat’s all that whispering ? lam
sure ihfu-' is same juggle here: hang me if
I thi kheis mi Italism,'after all. Gad! IT,
try him. S rvitore umiiissimo, eccellenza.*
Mel. Hum; what does he mean, I won- I
der ?
Dani. God > di vedervi in buona salute.+ ;
Aid. Hem, hem ! j
Dam. Fa bel—tempo che si dice di i
nuovo , i |
Mel. Well, sir, what’s all that gibberish ? ■
Dam, Oh. oh ! only Italian, your high- I
ness! The Prince of Como does not under. 1
stau - his own language !
Mel. Not as you pronounce it; who the ■
dense could ? (
Mad. Des. Ha! ba! Cousin Damas, ner. i
er pre'* nd to wh- t you don’t know.
Paid. Ha! ha! Cousin Damas ; you
speak Italian, indeed !
(Makes a -mocking gesture, at him.)
Beaus, (to Gla.) Clever dog! how ready !
Gla. Ready, yes; with my diamond ring !
Damn his r-.idmess !
Dam. Laugh at me I laugh at a colonel in
the French army! The fi-llow’s a.> impostor;
I know he is. I’ll see if he understands
fighti gns well as he docs Italian. (Goes up
to him, and aside) Sir, you are a jackanapes!
Can vou construe that?
Mel. N o,str; I never construe affronts in
the presence of ladies ; bv-and-by I shall be
happy tv take a k ssoii, or give one.
Dam'. I’ll find the occasion, never fear !
Mad. Des. Where arc you going, cousin 1
Darn. To correct my Italian. [EauiZ.
Beaus, (to GlaA Let us after, and pacify
him ; he evidently suspects something.
Gia. Yes but my diamond ring!
Beaus. Andniyb >x! We are overtaxed,
fellow-subject! we must stop the supplies,
aed dethrone the prince !
Gia. Prince ! he ought to be heir.apparent
to King Stock !
[Exeunt.
Mad. Des. Dare I ask your highness
to forgive mv cousin’s insufferable vulgarity?
Paul. Oh. vi s ! you will forgive his man
n r for the s .ke of his h art-
Mel. A M'h g ike of his cousin. Ab,
nrul ime. there is one comfort in rank : we are
so sure of our position that we are not easily
..tfronted. Besides, >L Duifls his bought
the right of indulgence from his friends by
ever showing it to his enemies.
Paul. Ah ! he is, indeed, as brave in ac
tion ash‘is rude in spccb. He rose from
die ranks to his present grade, and in two
years!
Mel. Li two years! - two years, did vou
s iy ?
Mad. Des. (aside.) I don’t like leaving
girts a'oue with their lovers; but, with a
prince it would be so ill bred to be prudish.
[ Exit.
Mel- yon c m be pr.m.l of your connexion
with, one who owes his position to merit, not
b 'th.
Paul. Why. ves ; but still—
j\’el Still "h t. Pauline ?
Pauk There is sme thing glorious in the
h. r’r ge of command. A man who his an
.• s'cs is like a representative of the past.
Mel. True ; but, like other represe Natives,
* \ oar ccc- m ist buhihle servant.
tl inn ;dad to see vou in good health-
t Fine weather! What howb is there ?
Vol. Vfi—Ao
■i<ie times out ol tun he is a silent m« mb pr *
Ah, Pauline ! not to the past, but to the lut*ire»
looks true nobility, and tiuds ita blazon in pus
ienty.
Paul. You say this to please me, who haiS
io ancestors ; but you, prince, must be proud
of so illustrious a race 1
MeZ. No, no! I would not, were I fifty
limes a prince, be a pensioner on the dead !
I honor birth and ancestry when thoy are re
garded as the incentives to exertion, not the ti
tle-deeds to sloth ! I honour the laurels that
overshadow the graves of our fathers; it it our
lathers; I emulate when I desire that be
neath the evergreen I myself have planted my
o wn*ashes may repose ! Searest! couldat
thou but see with my syes !
Paul. I cannot forego pride when I look na
thee, and think that thou loyect me. Sweet
prince, toll me again of thy, palaeo by tlio «
Luke of Como ; it u so pleasant to bear of
thy spleadros since thou didst swear to mo
that they would be desolate without Pauline ;
and when thou doscribest them/it is with <|
mocking lip and a noble scorn, as if custom
had mauetliee disdain greatness.
MELNOTTB.
Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wuuldwt have me paiut
The home to which, could love fulfil its prayers, .
' 1 hie hand would lead thee, listen !• a deep v«d»
Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world ;
Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold x
And »-uapering myrtles ; gla»siitj softest skies
As cloudless, save witH rare and roseate shadows.
An I would have thy fate!
fauline. f
My own dear le’e !
MELNOTTS.
A palace Lifting to eternal summer
1.3 marble walls, from out a glossy bower
Os coolest foliage musical wi’h birda,
Who 'e songs should syllable thy name! At Boost
We d sit beneath the arching visas,and woudur
Why earth could be unhappy, while the heavens
S' I left us youth and love ! We’d have no friends
That wefe n it lovers; no ambiiiou, save
To excel them all in love ! We'ci read no hooka
That were not talcs of love, that sve might smile
To think how poorly eloquence of words
Translates the poetry of .hearts like ours!
And when night came, artiid the breathless heavens ,
We’d guess what star,should be our home whaulura
Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light
Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps,
And every air was heavy .with the sighs
Os orange groves, and music from sweaf lutes,
And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth
I’ the midst of roses 1 post thou like the picture ?
I TAUtINB.
Oh! as the bee upon the flower, I hang
Upon the honey of thy eloquent tongue !
Am I not bless’d ? And if I love too wildly,
Who would not love thee like Pauline 7
MELNoTTE (bilUrly.)
Oh,false one!
It is the prince thou lovesl,.not the man;
If in the stead of luxury, pomp, and power,
I had painted poverty, and toil, and care,
Thou hadst found no honey ou my tongue; Paulina,
That is not love !
PAULINE.
Thcu wrongst me, true! prince I
’Tistrue, I might not at the first been won.
Save through the weakness of a flattered pride;
But now— oh I trust me—couldst thou fall from power,
And sink
As low as that poor gardener’* awn
Who dared to lift his eyes to thee—
PAUL UTE.
. .. Eventhen
Methinks thou wouldst be only made more dear
By the sweet thought that I could prove how deep
Is woman’s love ! We are like, the insects, caught
By the poor glittering of a garich flame ;
But, oh, the wings once scorehed, the brightest etar
Lures us no more; and by the fatal light
We cling till death!
MELNOTTE.
Angel! (Aside) Oh conscience ! conscience !
It must not be: her iovc hath grown a torture
Worse than her hate. I will at once to Benw eant,
And—ha! becomes. Sweet love, one ir>on»nt leave
me;
I have business with these gentlemen; —I
Will forthwith join you. ,
rAVLins.
Do not tarry long! [Pxit-
Enter Eeaueeant and Glavis.
Mol. Release me from my oath; I wJI
not marry her!
Btiaus. Then thou ar! perjured. >
Mel. No, I was not in my senses whci 1
swore to thee to marry her ! I was blind tn
all but her scorn ! deaf to all but my passion
and my rage ! Give me back my poverty
and my honour!
Beaus. It is too late; you must marry hr.rf
and this day. I have a story already coined,
and sure to pass current. This Damas sus
p<cts thee; he will set the police Io work;
tlum wilt be detected; Pauline will despisq
and execrate thee. Thou wilt be sent to thto
common jail as a swindler.
Mel. Fiend I
Beaus. And in the heat of the girl’s resent,
meat—you know of what resentment is caps,
ble—and the parent’s shame, she wilibs indu.
ved to marry the first that offers, eveu perhaps
your humble servant.
Mel. You! No; that were worse; for
i thou hast no mercy! I will marry her; I
will keep my oath. Quick, then. with the
damnable invention thou art hatch: g ; quick*
if thoii wouldst not have me strangle thee or
inyself.
Gia. What a tiger! Too fierce for a
prince ; he ought to have been the Grand
Turk.
Beaus. Enough. I will despatch : he pre.
pared, [Exeunt Beauseant- ard Glavis.
(Enter Dumas, with two
Darn. Now, then, sir, the ladies are no
longer yottr excuse. I have brought yon a
couple of dictionaries ; let us see if your high.
! ness can find on l the Latin for A?? 1 !.
Mel. Away, sir! lam iu n.j humor for
jesting.
Dam. I sec you understand something of
he grammar; you decline the nor, i r.ibste’f
iive “ small sword” with great cbr ; but ths*
won’t do ; you must take a kssos in rarsn r.
Mel. Fool I
Dam. Sir, n man who calls me a foal is.
suits the lady who ’Mera’s es-
cape for you ; fight ycu shall, or—-
Ml. Oh, enough! enough! take year
ground.
They fight; Damas is disarmed, Melnotle
takes up the sword and returns it to Da,
mas respectfully,
A just punishment to the brave snllier who
robs lite state of its best property, the sole
right to his valor and his life.
Dim. Sir, you fence cxc< edmgly well;
you must be a man of. honour. I don't care a
jot whether you are a ptinco ; '>t n ma i who
has carte and tierce at his fmg rs’ ends must
* The reader will observe that Mchm't" evade# the
request of Pauline He proceeds to describe a home,
which he does not say he po-rres but to which he
would lead her, “could loyefu'/' >•' prayers... This
caution is intended cs a reply t > a m .scions critic who
censures the description, heenuv it is not an exact and
preside inventory of the chart, c c.i tics of the Lake of
Como! When Mc’n-ntte. for i> sauce, talks of birds
“that syllable the name of P u’.’ni ’’ (by-tho-way, a
literal translation fr mi an Italian poet,) ]> c j 3 not think
ing of ornithology, but probably ■ f die. Arabian Ni- its.
He is venting the extrevightit, but natural enthueiaun/
of the poet and the lover.
See fourth ’ afe.