The travellers in Switzerland: A comic opera, in three acts: as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. By Mr. Bate Dudley.




The curious Wanderer left afar to roam,
Sighs for that comfort which he left at home.

LONDON. Printed for J. DEBRETT, oppoſite Burlington-Houſe, Piccadilly. 1794.




THE TRAVELLERS in their Dramatic Tour through SWITZERLAND, have derived ſo conſiderable a ſhare of their celebrity from your judicious guidance—and their Author owes ſo much to your zealous friendſhip on all occaſions, that it were impoſſible to inſcribe this OPERA to any other perſon than yourſelf, without violating thoſe feelings, which have ſo invariably repreſented you, as the object of his regard, and eſteem.

I am, dear Sir, Very faithfully yours, H. B. DUDLEY.


[Page 5]

THE STORY on which the following DRAMA is founded, however defective, is not borrowed—Various curtailments, and tranſpoſitions of Scenes, have unavoidably deranged the unities of the Piece, for the convenience of Stage repreſentation. Several of the AIRS, and all the CHORUSES having been written to compiled Muſic, the critical reader will make a ſuitable indulgence for ſome irregular, and uncouth numbers, which he will neceſſarily meet with.

The AUTHOR has too high a ſenſe of the zealous exertions of his whole DRAMATIS PERSONAE, to make any diſtinction in that general tribute of thanks, which he gratefully pays to their united merit. To Mr. SHIELD, he is indebted on this occaſion, for every thing that friendſhip, and profeſſional talent, could contribute.—

The Paſſages omitted on the Stage, are marked with inverted Commas.


Mr. Sidney,
Count Friponi,
Sir Leinſter M'Loghlin,
Swiſs Burgher,
  • Mr. ABBOTT.
  • Mr. REES.
Miſs Somerville's Servant,
Lady Philippa Sidney,
Miſs Somerville,
Lady's Maid,

Swiſs Soldiery, Shepherds, &c. &c.


1. ACT I.

1.1. SCENE I.—An AUBERGE on the ſide of a mountain at Sun-riſe, Daniel leading his mule towards it.—After his calling loudly, the Landlord and Landlady appear.

1.1.1. SEPTETTO—I.

HOUSE! Landlord! Landlady! I ſay.
Qui va la?
My Lor Anglois!
So I am, and yet you'll find
Greater folks than me behind.
[Page 10]
Enter Lady PHILIPPA, Mr. SIDNEY, Sir LEINSTER, JULIA, and DORIMOND, diſguiſed as Cazelle, a Swiſs Valet.
Landlord and Landlady.
Je ſuis charmé!
Lady Phillippa.
You alarm me,
No good company to meet?
Mr. Sidney and Sir Leinſter.
Nothing in the houſe to eat?
Landlord! Tapſter! Drawer! Waiter!
Sir Leinſter.
Oh, leave the matter to myſelf—
Beſt an Iriſhman can cater,
Where there's nothing on the ſhelf.
Mr. Sidney.
Is there nothing on the ſhelf.
Mr. Sidney and Sir Leinſter.
Bring at leaſt a ſlice of ham in!
'Tis in vain to think of cramming,
Nothing in the houſe to eat,
This is miſery complete! DUO—
Such diſtreſſes never move
Minds, that purely live on love.
Sir Lein. Having nothing to eat, I perceive, is one of the luxuries we get by travelling into foreign parts!
Lady Phil. Take care of the baggage, Cazelle, and ſee that the trunk with my family arms upon it, is particularly ſecured.
Cazelle. Oui Madame.
Mr. Sidney. The honeſt fellow, (clapping Dorimond on the ſhoulder) that ſo gallantly preſerved your daughter's life at the hazard of his own, will not be found deficient in the common offices of fidelity, depend on't.
[Exeunt within the Auberge.

1.2. SCENE II.

[Page 11]
Lady Phil. What, news have you picked up, Daniel? are there any people of rank, or old families beſide myſelf, on the road?
Daniel. Not that I know of, my Lady; I've only heard of two ſurprizing things; one is, that young 'Squire Dalton, paſſed this way a few weeks ago, on his travels.
Lady Phil. That is ſtrange, indeed!
Daniel. But the other is much more wonderful.
Lady Phil. What can that be?
Daniel. Why, my Lady, a fine bewitched Caſtle, only two leagues off! now, that in my notion, is a ſight, worth going all the world over to ſee!
Lady Phil. Poh! this nonſenſe of witches and enchanted caſtles, will one day or other turn your brain, Daniel.
Daniel. Oh, what a noble ſight an enchanted caſtle muſt be!
[Exit Daniel.
Lady Phil. Such a pair of ridiculous lovers, as Dalton and Miſs Somerville, romance itſelf has never recorded—both quarrelling with each other on a punctilio of falſe pride, when neither of their families have ſo much as a pedigre to be proud of—though, I think, we heard enough of her antient Chateau, which ſhe went abroad to take poſſeſſion of.
[Page 12] Enter Mr. SIDNEY.
Mr. Sidney. Julia and Sir Leinſter ſeem inclined to breakfaſt on a proſpect; they have diſcovered a diſtant country through the teleſcope, which ſhe contends, is the cliffs of Dover; while Sir Leinſter, to be a match for her in geography, declares it to be the Mangerton mountains, near the lake of Killarney.
Lady Phil. Now I muſt conjure you, Mr. Sidney, to lay aſide your coarſe jokes, and to deport yourſelf for the remainder of the tour, as may become the dignity of my family in a foreign clime.
Mr. Sidney. You know, my Lady Philippa, that the ruling object of my life, is to make you happy.
Lady Phil. For ſhame, Mr. Sidney! pray let me aſk, in what ſingle inſtance have you ſhewn it? name one!
Mr. Sidney. Compoſe yourſelf, my dear, and I will—Did I not forbid our neighbour, young Dorimond, my houſe, becauſe the poor fellow could not prove his deſcent from one of the twelve Caeſars?
Lady Phil. Don't name the upſtart in my preſence—a creature without a coat of arms to his family.
Mr. Sidney. But having honour and private worth, I ſhould have given him up with reluctance, tho' he had been without a coat to his back.
Lady Phil. I think, Mr. Sidney, you might pay a little more reſpect to the memory of my anceſtors.
Mr. Sidney. Come, come, my Lady Philippa, [...]et us drop this ſubject, or you'll worry yourſelf [Page 13] about the antiquity of your anceſtors, till you grow as old as the beſt of 'em!
Lady Phil. Very well, Sir,—vaſtly well!
Mr. Sidney. Have I ever uttered a ſingle emonſtrance on our carriage being overloaded with your quarterings, and ſcutcheons, like a country hearſe?
Lady Phil. I ſee through your cruel deſign, Sir,—you intend to break my heart in a foreign country.
Mr. Sidney. And did not I take the advertiſement for your Swiſs valet to the newſpaper with my own hands, and procure you one to attend upon my perſon, with whiſkers as long as a pole cat?
Lady Phil. Go on, Sir! go on! diſhonour me through life, and when I am no more, perſevere in your barbarity, and let no family trophies follow me to my tomb!
Mr. Sidney. Oh, my dear Lady Philippa! ‘

1.2.1. AIR II.—Mr. SIDNEY.

WHEN convinc'd by the deep ſounding boum,
That in earneſt you ſeek your long home,
For trifles I then will not cavil;
But reſign'd to my fate,
I'll direct that in ſtate,
On this journey you proudly may travel.
With a bim! boum! bell!
At your death, ſince you wiſh it, my dear,
All your honors of birth may appear,
For Heralds your arms ſhall reveal O!
Hang your a'chment up high,
To tell all who paſs by,
That my duck has got—quies in Caelo.
With a bim! boum! bell!
[Page 14] Lady Phil. Oh, you monſter of a man! you would bury me alive! get me a glaſs of Eau de Cologne, or I ſhall faint! (ſits down.)
Daniel. Here's a letter, I fancy for your Ladyſhip, with a coat of arms on it, as big as a waterman's badge.
Lady Phil. (Riſing in extacy and receives it.) Coat of arms!
Sidney. So then, go which way I will, I am croſſed at every turn, by ſome new fangled notions of falſe grandeur! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. (Looking minutely at the ſeal) Field ſable, three panthers paſſant, gorged with ducal collars chained, armed, creſted, tufted, and hoofed.
Mr. Sidney. And horned too, I ſuppoſe, to compleat the impreſſion of modern heraldry.
Lady Phil. From ſome illuſtrious perſonage, my life on't!
Daniel Yes, my Lady; I'm ſure by what his ſervant ſays, he's a foreign Lord at the leaſt.
Lady Phil. And yet its rather ſingular, that he ſhould not know my name! (reads) ‘"A Meſdames—Meſdames Angloiſes."’ (opens it) yes, he muſt be a man of faſhion, for he writes, I perceive, in all the languages (reads indiſtinctly) ‘"Comte Friponi—les belles Angloiſes—his devoirs in perſon—and chaperon them through Geneva and its environs"’ Delightful! Friponi? That's ſurely a very old name.
Mr. Sidney. Yes, my Lady, one of the antient families, no doubt which the deluge had not time [Page 15] to ſweep away. This muſt be the fellow that I ſaw in cloſe conference with our Swiſs. (aſide)
Lady Phil. Notwithſtanding your ſneers, Mr. Sydney, I ſhall not, you perceive be entirely deſerted in your abſence, if you ſhould purſue your commercial ſcheme to Straſburg—who's there? does the Courier wait?
Enter DORIMOND (as Swiſs Valet.)
Cazelle. Yes, my Lady.
Lady Phil. Give me the port feiulle, that I may write an anſwer immediately.
[Exit with Swiſs.
Mr. Sidney. Travel, ſo far from correcting, ſeems but to increaſe her romantic malady! This artificial weakneſs bears down all the amiable qualities of her nature; and the infatuation, if not checked, will deſcend, I fear even to the unaffected Julia! ſerious remonſtrance has been of no avail; the force of ridicule is my laſt reſource, and the object is too valuable, to leave the moſt painful experiment untried for its recovery.
Sir Lein. What the devil, Mr. Sidney, have you done to my Lady Philippa this morning? yeſterday, ſhe graciouſly told me, ſhe could find no blot in my 'ſcutcheon—now, this minute, ſhe whiſked as ſpitefully by me, as a bullet from a croſs bow! Come come, ſtand my friend with Miſs Julia, and tell her once for all how clever, a huſband I'll make her!
Mr. Sidney. Look ye, Sir Leinſter, as old friends, dont let you and I talk ſeriouſly when we can [Page 16] avoid it. Julia has declared never to favour the addreſſes of any one, without my approbation; in no caſe therefore but that of extreme neceſſity, ſhall a father's authority controul her inclination. The future happineſs of her life will probably depend on her own choice—let the man of her heart, then win her, and wear her, ſay I.
Sir Lein. My dear fellow, give me your hand, and is that what you ſay? Win her and wear her! Oh! ſay no more, only leave me alone for that. ‘


TO win, and to wear a ſweet creature,
Is always Sir Leinſter's delight;
The firſt thing he dreams in the morning,
The laſt that awakes him at night.
He's tight when he ſlips from his pillow,
As a ſhip that is juſt out of dock;
Tho' at duſk with a ſkinful of Claret,
He's apt to run foul of a rock,
Sing ſmaghler oo ſmack ſmhilat ſmothar;
How funny this taſte is of mine,
Oh! I learnt it from father and mother,
To love pretty women and wine!
Lady Phil. Well, Mr. Sidney, we can part with you now as ſoon as you pleaſe, for Count Friponi in his note, has recommended to me an Engliſh guide, who lives juſt at the foot of the mountain—tho' he knows but little of the man himſelf, he is reckoned the clevereſt creature in the world, who can tell us every body, and every thing.
[Page 17] Mr. Sidney. An Engliſh guide recommended to you by a foreign Count?—there muſt be ſome miſchief on foot! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. Yes; and dont you think this an act of great courteſy, and condeſcenſion in a man of high family?
Mr. Sidney. Without doubt my everlaſting love. (ruminating) If ſuch a device were practicable! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. What are you proſing about?
Mr. Sidney. I'm thinking, my Lady Philippa, that in my abſence, is it not poſſible that you may thus ſubject yourſelf to ſome impoſition?
Lady Phil. Impoſition! I know you deem me a weak creature! ſhew me the man, Mr. Sidney, that can impoſe upon me.
Mr. Sidney. Its worth the experiment at all events. (aſide) But dont you perceive that this will be an unneceſſary increaſe of your expences?
Lady Phil. Poh! what ſignifies expence when the honour of a family is concerned! the larger the ſuite, you know, the more dignified! beſides, he'll be a better interpreter than Cazelle, the Swiſs, who is far too reſerved.
Mr. Sidney. I ſhould be ſorry to withhold my conſent, even in—
Lady Phil. Your conſent? now, Mr. Sidney, you have made it an object of too much importance for me to diſpenſe with—ſo have him I will, and there's an end of it.
Mr. Sidney. Then all I have to do, is, I ſuppoſe, as uſual, to acquieſce?
Lady Phil. To be ſure.
Mr. Sidney. Well ſaid, my Lady Philippa! (muſing) There can be no great difficulty in defeating [Page 18] the probable raſcalities of the Count, who, from what I can learn of our landlord, is little better than a deſperado after all—This ſame Guide, intended no doubt for ſome ſecret ſervice of that faſhionable impoſtor, may, with a little dexterity, be managed, ſo as to anſwer a better purpoſe of mine —I ſhall ſatisfy myſelf at leaſt, whether the regard ſhe pays to other opinions in preference to mine, be a turn towards natural depravity, or merely the coquettiſh folly of family pride. If only the affection of vice, ſhe may yet be ſhamed out of it—ſhould it prove worſe, the painful alternative my own honour muſt ſuggeſt. Who knows but I may be received as her guide by ſtratagem, tho' refuſed it thro' life on the ſcore of long tried affection —I remember to have enacted Davus before the grave dons of Weſtminſter, with tolerable ſucceſs. —How ſhall I manage my voice? but there can be no great difficulty in that; for Lady Philippa has paid too little regard to its natural key, to be ſtruck with it under any diſguiſe it may now aſſume.

1.3. SCENE III.—Caſtle Gardens.


1.3.1. AIR IV.

EVER let me ſhun the danger
Abſence is ordain'd to prove;
Where the mind to pride a ſtranger,
Blends Indifference with love!
[Page] Oh, ye hoary mountains, ſay,
That ſurround me night and day,
How elate have I, 'ere now,
Sought with hope your proudeſt brow
Aloft in air!
Then—ſad reverſe of ſcene!
How ſoon alas have been
Low at your feet with pale deſpair!
Ner. Dear ma'am, why ſhould we deſpair? I hope we are not doomed to live alone for ever! (Miſs Somerville muſing) I wonder who that could be, I ſaw juſt now through the glaſs from the turret? perhaps he's near enough by this time to be obſerved with the naked eye.
[Exit unperceived by Miſs Somerville.
Miſs Som. This completes the firſt year of my ſelf-baniſhment from an object which I find is ſtill dearer to me even than my country! How devoted is that affection, which neither time can alter, nor diſtance remove! In vain have I endeavoured to reproach my own heart, for permitting me to fly from all it values! Oh, Dalton! if I ſtill beheld thee at the feet of another, my pride would take the ſame alarm, and again inform thee, that I muſt diſpenſe with thoſe addreſſes, which I owed more to my fortune than my perſon. Had I wronged him by a groundleſs ſuſpicion, he could not have withdrawn himſelf with that cold reſpect, without attempting the ſmalleſt explanation of his conduct. Though my mind approves the ſacrifice it has made, it cannot recollect it with indifference. (peruſing a letter ſhe had written) That enquiry after [Page] Dalton will betray a womanly weakneſs to others, and a want of reſolution to myſelf—It muſt not be (draws her pen through a paſſage, folds up and addreſſes the letter.) Yet how vain to eraſe him here, when he is imprinted on my heart for ever.
Enter NERINDA haſtily.

1.3.1. DUETT V.

DEAR ma'am, I've ſuch a ſight for you
One fit for any queen!
Oh! run the ſweeteſt man to view
Your eyes have ever ſeen!
Miſs Som.
Oh fie! no, no, no, no
Now I pray don't ſay no, no, no, no
Along the lake I ſaw him ſtray,
Where tempeſts oft begin;
Poor ſoul he may have loſt his way.
Oh! let us aſk him in!
Miſs Som.
Oh fie! no, no, no, no!
Now I pray, don't ſay no, no, no, no!
Ner. Why not? he ſeems a countryman of our own, and may tell us all the news of dear England!
Miſs Som. Prythee, Nerinda, do not trifle with me—I have addreſſed a pacquet to my agent—you muſt ſee it ſafely delivered to the mulateer when he next paſſes the mountains.
Ner. He looked a charming man from the turret! and as I happen to have the key of the abbey gate, I'll take a nearer peep at him preſently, if I die for't! Heigho! (ſighs)
[Page 21] Miſs Som. Heyday, Nerinda, why that deep ſigh?
Ner. In pity, ma'am, that two ſuch creatures as you and I, ſhould be ſo unhandſomely concealed from the world.
Miſs Som. Oh, I know the world a little better than you, and believe me, that unprotected woman is never ſo happy as in ſecluſion.
Ner. Well now, I don't think, that ever I ſhould have found that out.
Miſs Som. Bred a recluſe, Nerinda, don't you prefer the peaceful freedom of this manſion, to the dull auſterities of a convent?
Ner. Oh, dear ma'am, the nunnery was certainly the moſt ſprightly thing of the two! for there, one had the privilege of peeping at a man through the grate, on a red-letter day; but as to this dreary caſtle of your great grandfather's, nothing human will approach it! the ſhepherds run away from us, for fear of being bewitched; and the laſt time Margery went to market, they were about to ſwim her, poor ſoul, for a wizard!
Miſs Som. Come, a truce to raillery. You know that I have impoſed upon myſelf this penance, and the prejudices of the world ſhall not move me from my reſolve. If you, Nerinda, feel it a reſtraint any longer to remain with me, I will gladly endeavour to provide you a ſituation more ſuitable to the natural gaiety of your temper!
Ner. O dear, ma'am, indeed I did but joke—I would not quit you for the whole world—I was more anxious to ſhorten your ſerious moments, I aſſure you, than my own.
Miſs Som. Amiable girl!
[Page 22] Ner. However, ma'am, its neceſſary that ſomething ſhould be done with the other part of your houſehold, for I left it in a ſtate little ſhort of mutiny: but here comes a pair of them to ſpeak for themſelves.
Miſs Som. Well, pray what are your complaints?
Robin. Not for want of good living, my Lady, for no one roaſts, or boils every day better than our Margery!
Margery. Nor for more wages—for and pleaſe your Ladyſhip, I am ſure we are as well paid, as fed!
Miſs Som. What is it then you want?
Robin. Why, if I may be zo bold as to ſpeak my mind, Madge and I here, have laid our heads together for ſometime in this diſmal country, and begin to think, we ſhould like to taſte what true liberty is in our own!
Miſs Som. And is this really the caſe, Margery?
Margery. And pleaſe you my Lady, Robin has promiſed to make me his lawful ſpouſe, as ſoon as we ſet foot in old England again!
Miſs Som. Poor creature! and that's the way ſhe would ſecure her liberty?
Ner. Well; but Margery, can't you contrive to be married here?
Robin. Yes, ma'am, in a botching kind of a way—but if the knot was to come azunder, and let her down in her old days, I ſhould never forgive myſelf!
[Page 23]


THUS on my bended knees I pray!
Ah, well-a-day!
Madge is in a melting mood!
Let him cheer my latter days;
Hear her, ma'am, ſhe never prays
But for zomething very good!
Now for ſome moſt doleful ditty,
He's the only man I prize!
Miſs Som.
How the creature moves my pity!
Drown me not, thoſe ſloe-black eyes.
Miſs Som. and Nerinda.
Ceaſe your ſorrow, and ariſe.
Stop your flood gates, wipe your eyes.
Miſs Som, As your affections ſeem mutual, at the end of three months, your further ſervices ſhall be diſpenſed with, and a paſſport procured for your conveyance to England.
Margery. Heaven bleſs you, and ſend your Ladyſhip a good huſband in your turn, and that ſpeedily!
Ner. How happy you have made 'em!
Robin. Drop another curtſy, do'e, Madge, and now live in hopes, a little longer like a reaſonable woman.

1.4. SCENE IV.

Lady Phil. Heaven be praiſed, your father has taken his departure for Straſburgh.
[Page 24] Julia. You muſt excuſe me, my Lady, if I cannot rejoice at the loſs of his ſociety.
Lady Phil. No great loſs, child; for now I can ſee good company, without the fear of being checked by the coarſeneſs of his Engliſh jokes —Let me expect, Julia, that before the men you are properly reſerved; and if you ſee me condeſcend occaſionally to be a little more gracious to them, you ſhould conſider who I am, and that you child, in the line of precedence, are only the daughter of Mr. Sidney.
Julia. A diſtinction, my Lady, ſufficiently honourable in my mind, I can aſſure you.
Lady Phil. In a word, no more love fits! You muſt know I expect an immediate viſit from a Count Friponi, who is ſaid to be rather a poliſhed creature.
Julia. Probably he may.
Lady Phil. With a ſomething ſo eaſy in his addreſs, and familiar at firſt ſight, that I thought it neceſſary to put you on your guard—beſides, ſhould you think to find a wealthy admirer on the Continent, which was probably your father's object in coming abroad, you'll both be much diſappointed, believe me!

1.4.1. AIR VIII —

JOY ſparkles in the roving eye,
That ſeeks for treaſure o'er the deep,
No billow then can beat too high,
No reſtleſs gale too boldly ſweep.
But what lorn maid, alas! will boaſt,
The ſpreading ſail, or willing wind.
That wafts her from her native coaſt.
To leave her fondeſt hope behind.
[Page 25]
Daniel. The mules are put to the carriages, my Lady, and it's only four leagues to Geneva—oh, I'd like to have forgot; here's an odd kind of man with only one eye, who ſays he came by your Ladyſhip's order.
Lady Phil. By my order? oh then, it muſt be the Engliſh guide that the Count recommended—ſhew him in: he is juſt in time to go along with us.
[Exit. Daniel.
Enter Mr. SIDNEY, (diſguiſed as LOPEZ.)
You are the perſon recommended to be our guide?
Lopez. (Speaking quick throughout his ſcenes, in diſguiſe) The ſame at your Ladyſhip's eternal command! now I'm launched, my fears begin to vaniſh! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. How had you the misfortune to loſe an eye?
Lopez. Merely by intenſe ſtudy, illuſtrious Lady.
Lady Phil. What might that ſtudy be?
Lopez. The Heraldry of antient Greece.
Lady Phil. How fortunate to meet with ſo illumined a creature! why you muſt have ſeen better days!
Lopez. I have indeed, my Lady; and am lineally deſcended from the firſt race of Picts, who made, you know, no ſmall figure in the world, before cloaths came into faſhion!
Enter DANIEL, who ſtares at Mr. Sidney.
Lady Phil. Take care of this perſon, Daniel, he's a clever creature, and has known better days.
[Page 26] Daniel. Take care of my little ſtock of linen! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. Now I look at him again, I can plainly perceive the man of conſequence in him. (aſide) What is your name?
Lopez. Lopez is my travelling name, my Lady.
Lady Phil. Well, then, Lopez, you may now recite the curioſities that are moſt worthy our ſeeing.
Lopez. It's well I picked up a ſlice or two of the marvellous, along with my new jacket. (aſide,) Firſt of all, moſt noble Lady, you have no doubt, paid a viſit to the immenſe Glacieres!
Lady Phil. No, we have not.
Lopez. No? why, one of them wears his ſnowy nightcap two thouſand toiſes above the common clouds.
Daniel. Phew! (whiſtles.)
Lady Phil. That muſt be nobly tremendous!
Lopez. On our right about a league and a half, ſtands—the enchanted caſtle of the mountains.
Daniel. (impatiently.) Aye, that's the very ſame caſtle, my Lady, I told you of; and a ſight worth travelling to ſee indeed! Oh, he's a much cleverer fellow than I took him for. (aſide.)
Lady Phil. Who is the poſſeſſor?
Lopez. (pauſing.) A lucky thought—I'll give it to the Comte—'Tis one of the antient poſſeſſions of the Comte Friponi.
Lady Phil. Indeed!
Lopez. Yes my Lady—But I muſt requeſt you to be on your guard, as he is unwilling to acknowledge this part of his domain, from [Page 27] the awful family circumſtance which led to his preſent celebrity.
Lady Phil. What family circumſtance? proceed!
Daniel (anxiouſly.) Ay, pray, Sir, do tell us all about it!
Lopex. About a century and a half ago, a Knight of Charlemagne, one of the Comte's illuſtrious progenitors, was ſlain there, within the antient Hall of Arms, in a tilting match, gallantly defending the honour of his fair miſtreſs. Immediately on hearing this, ſhe threw herſelf headlong from the lofty battlements, and falling upon the foot of the Drawbridge, heroicly daſhed her lovely ſelf to atoms!
Dan. Poor ſoul!
Lady Phil. She acted, indeed, like an antient woman of honour.
Lopez. At four periods in the year, about twilight, ſhe has ſince been ſeen to paſs through the illumined Hall, ſometimes in white, at others in blue and fire.
Daniel. Bleſs me—blue and fire!
Lady Phil. But who inhabits it now?
Lopez. Two ladies, who had quarrelled with the world, are ſaid to have got there, but for what purpoſe is not known.
Lady Phil. I am all impatience to behold the Hall of Arms.
Lopez. I can ſhew your Ladyſhip that, and the caſtle throughout, without the Comte's delicacy being hurt by the knowledge of it.
Daniel. Oh, it will be well worth your ſeeing my Lady—Suppoſe I was to go forward myſelf, and enquire a little about it firſt?
[Page 28] Lady Phil. I don't think that would be amiſs, Daniel; and bring me ſome further account of it to Geneva. But be careful, for curioſity, you know, has always been your particular failing; ſo take care Daniel, that it does not run you into too much danger.
Daniel. Oh, never fear me, my Lady, for ſpirits and wizzards you know, were always my delight from a child. What a comical world it is that we odd folks live in! nothing delights my curioſity ſo much as a touch of the marvellous! now and then it fancies a bit of the doleful! tho' a little ſimple mirth after all it finds the eaſieſt of digeſtion. ‘

1.4.1. AIR IX.

JOY and grief are too many for poor little Dan.
In his mind they kick up ſuch a pother;
So the one I ſerve truly as well as I can,
And by ſome friendly proxy do ſuit to the other!
For light is my heart, and merry,
With a high up! not with your low down derry.
See theſe eye-lids were made for no ſnivelling Elf;
But light feather'd to twinkle with glee;
When I'm merry, I manage to laugh with myſelf,
And when ſad, why this flaſk kindly weeps for poor me.
For light is my heart, and merry,
With a high up! not with your low down derry.

1.5. SCENE V. An extenſive Lake; A Fiſherman's Hut in a Rock, &c.

[Page 29]
DALTON coming out of the Hut.
Dalton. Let me turn from the diſtreſſing ſcenes of memory, to thoſe of nature, ſo beautifully ranged around me—how unruffled is this expanſe of water! ‘

1.5.1. AIR X.

ELEMENT of liquid beauty,
Mirror chaſte as op'ning day,
How enchanting is your duty,
Graceful nature to diſplay!
Like the face of that fair creature,
Born for man's ſupreme delight,
Thou art deck'd with every feature,
That can captivate the ſight!
’ How contradictory are all the accounts I can collect! my retreat in this truſty creature's hut, will at leaſt enable me to avoid the Sidney family, who would only trifle with my diſtreſs. And yet I would gladly learn the better fate of Dorimond and his Julia, in whoſe cauſe I have ſo ſeverely ſuffered.—Though I have at length found out the ſolitary abode of my crue fugitive, how can I approach it, while her laſt words weigh ſo heavily on my heart? Her wealth the object of my addreſs, while the perſon of another engaged my affection! 'twas a charge, which my pride can never condeſcend to refute—had ſhe been inferior to me in fortune, [Page 30] a ſingle prejudice of her mind againſt me, my whole life ſhould have been devoted to remove. —But here comes my honeſt fiſherman, whoſe buſy ſcenes afford me ſome amuſement.
Enter Fiſherman.—Dalton ſhakes hands with him.

1.5.1. AIR XI—GLEE.

OH! ſay, ye happy mountaineers, who lead a life ſecure,
How little do you reckon on the hardſhips we endure;
While on the lake, poor fiſhermen for bread are doom'd to go,
Dark or light,
Day or night,
Where tempeſtuous winds do blow,
And the billows break below!
Our element's the water, on which we work amain,
The ſtars our only pilots, to ſteer us home again;
But on the beach re-landed, we feel our ſpirits flow,
And on ſhore,
Heed no more
How tempeſtuous winds do blow,
Or the billows break below!
Fiſherman. Come, lads, buſtle, buſtle, and I'll be with you by the time you've ſhot the biggeſt trowl in the bay.
[Exeunt Fiſhermen.
Enter NERINDA peeping.
Dalton. Torment us how ſhe may—woman, dear woman, muſt ſtill be the ſolace of our lives!
Ner. As the only lady in company, that compliment muſt belong to me— (aſide. Dalton turns [Page 31] and ſees her) I fear, Sir, as a ſtranger, you flatter me!
Dalton. I muſt firſt learn how to do juſtice to ſo charming a creature! but ſay, my pretty one, who are you? and how came ſo lovely an Engliſh woman in theſe rude mountains?
Ner. Well, how delightful it is, to hear our native tongue, now and then ſo charmingly ſpoken!
Dalton. Where do you inhabit?
Ner. Hard by! I ſaw you from our battlements, ſtraying, as I thought, in a melancholy mood; ſo I ran to aſk you, if you ſtood in need of any thing.
Dalton. Charitable ſoul! ſhe certainly belongs to the caſtle! (aſide.)
Ner. Pray, Sir, inform me,—how left you our native country?
Dalton. Bearing herſelf ſtill proudly, as becomes the firſt of nations; and ſolicitous, like you, to ſuccour thoſe around her in diſtreſs! but you'll allow me to attend you back—I've a thouſand things to ſay to you!
Ner. Oh no, that can't be—we keep a very ſtrict houſe, I aſſure you! And yet he ſeems a good creature, that might aſſiſt me in comforting my poor lady! (aſide) Do you ſee that diſmal manſion? (pointing.)
Dalton. Not long ſince I paſſed near it!
Ner. Then, if you muſt know, two ſpinſters of us inhabit it.
Dalton. Indeed! the companion, no doubt, of my Louiſa (aſide).
Ner. One facinated by the ſpells of her own mind, from which I would fain relieve her—and [Page 32] the other eſcaped from a convent—and as you ſee, not exactly calculated for ſuch ſolitary confinement.
Dalton. But your companion—is ſhe an Engliſhwoman, and as charming as yourſelf?
Ner. Every way my ſuperior, I aſſure you—but you muſt not be too particular at preſent—a thought has juſt ſtruck me, that you might perhaps aſſiſt me in rallying her out of this ſelf captivity.
Dalton. By all means! command me this inſtant!
Ner. Oh no! not quite ſo violently: for I can only gain you admittance by an innocent ſtratagem—but indeed, how dare I confide in a ſtranger?
Dalton. Why ſhould you doubt me?
Ner. That's true; for you are an Engliſhman, and the ſervice I require of you, is the kind relief of a woman!
Dalton. Then let me fly with you this moment.
Ner. I tell you, that's impoſſible; but ſhould I happen to ſee you a little before ſun-ſet where the view opens from the caſtle to the Glacieres, there, if my courage fail me not, I may, perhaps haps, give you further inſtructions, till then, adieu!
Dalton. I'll certainly attend you—But ſurely you will not leave me thus uninformed, to return to ſolitude?

1.5.1. AIR XII.—

SINCE you aſk me, I'll honeſtly tell you the truth,
Fleſh and blood cannot bear ſuch reſtraint in their youth!
I ſhould like this ſame ſolitude, better, I own,
Was it not that I hate to be ſighing alone!
For then poor Heigho! is but labour in vain,
Becauſe one can't get a Heigho back again!
[Page 33]
Two rivers when blended, we very well know,
At all times more ſweetly in uniſon flow:
Then my word for't you'll find that there's nothing amiſs,
If two hearts ſhould thus form but one current of bliſs;
For then poor Heigho is not labour in vain,
Becauſe one may get a Heigho back again!

1.6. SCENE VI.—An Hotel at Geneva.

JULIA, and CAZELLE entering to her.
Caz. The Comte come with my lady, and ſhe aſk Mademoiſelle for you—I beg pardon—but I hope you not forget, that de foreign Comtes are never the moſt honourable lover.
Julia. You are determined, I find Cazelle, to make me every hour more your debtor.
Caz. Oh, Miſs, you honour too great my humble fidelité. (retiring.)
Julia. Come hither, Cazelle—I owe you much more than this ſmall tribute of gratitude for my preſervation. (offering a purſe)
Caz. Oh, no, Miſs (laying his hand on his breaſt.) I have been pay for it here, over, and over again!
Julia. Noble minded creature!
Cazelle. My tranſport had nearly betrayed me. (aſide.)
Julia. There is ſomething in the mild manners of this faithful Cazelle, which indicates, that fortune has been unmindful of his deſerts—his kind attention to my ſafety, brings to my mind the painful recollection of the friend, if nothing more, I loſt, in Dorimond! ‘

1.6.1. AIR XIII.

[Page 34]
Oh love, declare! dear friendſhip, ſay,
Why, why ſhou'd memory impart,
A bliſs, or ſorrow paſs'd away,
To cheat, alas, the ſilly heart?
On plighted vows—on tranſports dwell,
Such, memory, alone impart,
From thy record theſe fondly tell,
And kindly cheat the ſilly heart!
Enter COMTE, leading in LADY PHILIPPA.
Comte. Ah, ma chere Dame; comme vous aime! (Sings ad lib, and kneels.)
Lady Phil. Riſe, Comte, I intreat you!
Enter LOPEZ, (unobſerved.)
Lopez. (Aſide.) Surely this can't be the old family way.
Comte. How I you adore!
Lady Phil. I muſt not allow even of this travelling familiarity.
Lopez. Nor I, or we ſhall make the grand tour too ſoon.
Lady Phil. Riſe, Comte, I conjure you!
Comte. How can I riſe, without your fair hand?
Lopez. (Aſide) I'll ſhew you (going between them.) As you ſeem to have made a ſlip, ſir, ſuppoſe you make ſhift with mine? (preſents his hand.)
Lady Phil. Mercy, how the man alarm'd me!
[Page 35] Comte. Lopez, how can you be ſo dam a fool? (Aſide.)
[Lopez whiſpers the Comte.
Comte. Mademoiſelle come dis way? Oh, vous avez ràiſon. (Aſide to him.) My lady, je vous demande pardon. [Talks apart with her.
Lopez. My doubts increaſe, if not my dangers—but being undiſcovered, I am in a fair way of ſatisfying the one, tho' I may not prevent the other! at all events I ſhall reſcue my child from the contagion of ſuch travelling examples.
Lady Phil. Oh, here ſhe comes—Julia, child, you have kept us waiting for you.
Julia. I intreat your pardon Lady Philippa.
Lady Phil. Let me introduce you to the Comte Friponi, the head of one of the moſt antient houſes in the circle—ſhe has a mauvaiſe honte, you'll perceive, Comte, which travel will in time correct.
Comte. Certainment (Singing and looking inquiſitively at Julia.) Ma foi! elle eſt aſſez jolie! Upon my word, how can I know which is Madame, and which is Mademoiſelle?
Lady Phil. You are right, Comte, for ſhe's ſometimes taken for my elder ſiſter.
Comte. En verité! I'm not at all ſurprize!
Lady Phil. But you ſhou'd know, Monſieur le Comte, that I was a very young and ſilly girl indeed, when I condeſcended to give my hand to Julia's father. I'll juſt ſtep and finiſh my diſpatches, and return to you immediately.
Comte. Bon! Now I make de littel love to Miſs.

1.6.1. AIR XIV. DUET.

[Page 36]
Ma belle! ma jolie Reine!
What is it, ſir, you mean
Let me go!
Oh, no, no!
Releaſe me, ſaucieſt of men!
How ſhall I catch a you again?
Hence from me fly—
Crudela! you will make a me die!
What care I?
But ah! morblieu!
I'd rather live, ma chere, pour vous.
[Julia breaks away and Exit.
Comte. Dat is ver drole! But ſhe have de bonne fortune—ſo, de next time I run wid her away ſans ceemonie! Till one of de dear creature come back, what will I do pour paſſer le temps? (walks towards the end of the room, and looks out of the glaſs-doors.
Re-enter Lady PHILIPPA, and JULIA.
Lady Phil. Ridiculous child! Now your affectation carries you as far the other way! He is a man of high birth; ſo that if he had been hurried into an indiſcretion, it wou'd not have been with a ſubordinate branch of the family.
Comte. (walks up to them) Eh bien, Mademoiſelle, how you fly comme de littel bird upon de wing! (to Julia; then talks apart with Lady Philippa.)
Julia. To be driven from the man I love, and obliged to ſolicit protection of another in the abſence of my father, from the wretch I hate, is a deſtiny ſevere indeed!
[Savoyards heard without.
[Page 37] Lady Phil. What delightful muſic.
Comte. Une petite ſerenade, I command pour paſſer le temps!
Lady Phil. How extremely well bred.
[Savoyards enter, and play.
Cazelle. A packet my lady, from England.
[Delivers letters.
Lady Phil. What a charming buſtle will travel afford!
Comte. Oh, de travaille! Oui! It is le plus jolie choſe du monde.
Lady Phil. Come Julia, you promiſed to throw aſide your Engliſh ennui.
Julia. True Madam! But how hard to feign a merriment to which the heart's a ſtranger!


The croſs road of life, which all mortals purſue,
MERRY TRAVELLERS only with comfort paſs thro';
They ſtoop but to gather its pleaſanteſt flowers,
Then gaily trip on with the light-footed hours.

2. ACT II.

[Page 38]

2.1. SCENE I.—Cazella alone.

THERE goes the Comte's raſcally ſpy—our guide, plotting every poſſible miſchief againſt the peace of a worthy man! had Mr. Sidney's family no other claims on my ſervice, I am bound to protect it in his abſence, even by the common duties of humanity! Never yet have I alarmed her delicacy by an abrupt avowal of my paſſion. Had I revealed myſelf when I ſnatched her from the waves, I might have miſinterpreted her emotions of gratitude, for thoſe of love! Oh no! my mind muſt firſt receive ſome better aſſurance that her abſent Dorimond ſtill lives in her regard.

2.2. SCENE II.—The Glacieres.

DANIEL, diſcovered with a ſkin of wine.
Daniel. I begin to think this confounded curioſity of mine, will carry me a little too far! If I ſhou'd be ſurpriz'd in theſe lonely mountains, what wou'd become of me?
[Seeing a Savoyard.
Hey day, what have we here? Troth, and ſo it is—one of the Shepherd's hurdy-gurdies, with [Page 39] which he charms his mountain laſſes. I'll ſee if it will ſay a ſoft thing or two to me (turns it) yes, yes, (laughing) 'tis a common prattling fool, that we wiſe men can always play upon! (plays again) well, that ever I ſhou'd turn out ſuch a maſter of muſic! Why, I do it better than the fam'd thrummer of old; he only caper'd the ſtones out of rocks—now ſee how I tickle even fleſh and blood from the mountains!
[Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes deſcend from the GLACIERES, dancing.
Ecod, but their fellows are along with them! I've heard theſe long whiſker'd ſparks are now and then given to jealouſy! I'll hide up a little!
[Conceals himſelf in the rocks.—Dancers paſs off.
Shepherdeſs. I'm ſure I heard him near this glen—which way can he have taken?
Dan. (Peeping.) I'm not ſorry they are gone! two or three of them were furious looking dogs—Fh! that was civil enough tho', to leave one of their nymphs behind 'em.
[Plays a ſtrain.
Shep. Davio! (running towards him) Ah! no! 'tis ſome ſtranger!
[Falls back.
Dan. Come, come, my pretty laſs, you are rather ſupriz'd at my ſkill—but that's nothing to what I can do.

2.2.1. AIR XVI.

Came you near yon mountain glade,
By the track the mules have made?
Path to me for ever dear,
Trodden by my Muleteer!
[Page 40]
O'er the frozen waſte of ſnow,
Light and fearleſs do I go,
If the cheerful voice I hear,
Of my faithful Muleteer.
Cold my boſom never knows,
For my heart with rapture glows,
When the chearful voice I hear,
Of my faithful Muleteer!
Dan. No, I did not meet any ſuch tramper; but you are in luck, my little graſs-hopper, in popping upon the cleverer fellow of the two! come, can't I do as well?
Shep. Ah! no!
Dan. Bleſs your little innocent heart, then if that's the caſe, I wont diſtreſs you by tarrying—I'll look for him as I go on, and if I find him, be ſure I'll ſend him to you.
Shep. La! where did you get that ſavoyard?
Dan. Found it on the green-ſward here!
Shep. Lay it down again directly, for fear you ſhou'd be ſeen with it.
Dan. Seen with it—why?
Shep. It belongs to the ſhepherd who keeps the watch this day on the mountain—the tune to which it is ſet, calls them altogether, and if they caught you laughing at them, they'd puniſh you, by ſhutting you up in one of the caves.
Dan. Lord a' mercy! you don't ſay ſo? (throws it down) what a narrow eſcape I've had! I'll begone! But hark ye, little one; is this the way to the old caſtle, that they ſay is enchanted?
Shep. Yes; you'll ſee it on your left when you have paſs'd this Mountain.
[Page 41] Dan. Well, that's lucky however—but are you certain it's bewitched?
Shep. So my grandmother ſays—but I'm ſure I don't know: two or three of our Shepherds have been there on a Sunday, and they never got any harm—good b'ye!
Dan. Well then—good bye! [Exit Sheperdeſs. Come now, little DAN, as we are alone, anſwer me one queſtion fairly; an't you a bit of a coward at the bottom after all? No, that I am not! (bluſtering) and ſuppoſe I was, you don't believe I ſhou'd be ſuch a fool to own it, even to myſelf:—if I have a fault, 'tis bearing a little too much to the deſperate ſide of valour. ‘


Does this look like the face DAN,
Betwixt me and you;
Wou'd that Daniel diſgrace man,
Antiquity knew,
Whom no ſenſe of danger could ever ſubdue?
Little DAN will not flinch,
He's a man ev'ry inch,
To his name-ſake of old he will ever prove true,
Whom a Den full of Lions cou'd never ſubdue!


LOPEZ and the COMTE meeting.
Comte. Ah, ah! mon ami, Lopez, you muſt help me to make de love to de dear ladies Angloiſes.
Lopez. What, both, your honor?
Comte. Oui, both to be ſure. You make Madame in love wid the antiquitè of mon famille; [Page 42] and Madamoiſelle in love auſſi, wid my youth and bon eſprit!
Lopez. (Aſide) Here's a complete ſcoundrel for you! But could not the Swiſs lend a hand, your honor upon a pinch?
Comte. To be ſure—he will do what I command.
Lopez. I thought ſo—ingrate, thus to cancel the obligations I owed him.
Enter CAZELLE, (obſerving them unſeen.)
Caz. The confederates I ſee, are met in knaviſh council.
Comte. Here, mon ami, take de l'argent comptant, and if you do my buſineſs tres bien, by gar I vill enrichè vous for life.
[Gives him money.
Caz. So—the compact of villainy is fully ratified.
Lopez. Now am I in the high road to preferment, or the devil's in't! But it was rather ſhort ſighted in me to enter on ſuch a ſervice with only one eye, which required all the vigilance of him, who in wiſer times, cou'd hardly make ſhift with a hundred. (Seeing Cazelle.) Oh, here comes his new aſſociate, Mr. Whiſkers—why not tax him with his knavery at once?
Caz. I cannot with-hold my indignation any longer.


Cazelle, and Lopez.
Come, Sir, you're a rank impoſtor;
Well I know what you're about,
And the villainies you foſter.
Sirrah, have I found you out?
[Page 43]
Sure he has not found me out!
How can you, ſince that's the caſe,
Dare to look me in the face?
Sir Leinſter.
What the devil's all this clatter?
How can you, ſince that's the caſe,
Sir Leinſter.
Jontlemen, pray what's the matter?
Dare to look me in the face?
Sir Leinſter.
Varlets, can't you fight in peace?
Sir Lein. Why, now, as fellow ſervants ſhou'd you take the trouble of going to loggerheads, when I've a little ſnug quarrel ready made to your hands? Here it is (producing a letter) ‘Win her, and wear her’—oh, to be ſure and I won't do that.
Caz. What can all this mean?
Lopez. Some new family miſchief on foot, my life on't!
Sir Lein. Come, as neither of you can write, I'll read this to myſelf, that you may both underſtand it, d'ye ſee together. (reads) ‘Mr. Count’
Both. The Count!
Sir Lein. Faith, and you have both made a good gueſs of it;—
‘Mr. Count, I ſhall be ready to give you ſatisfaction for the inſult you have offer'd a ſweet creature—you will expect to ſee me near the Cypreſs Grove preciſely at three o'clock—I mean to bring only one friend, and that's my ownſelf—as a man of honor, he may ſee fair play for both of us!—’

Your's to command, LEINSTER M'LAUGHLIN.

Now do you perceive that this ſame Count—
Caz. But who has he inſulted, Sir? [anxiouſly.
Lopez, Ay, pray, Sir, only tell us that.
[Page 44] Sir Lein. Why, who ſhou'd it be, to be ſure, but the dear little Julia her own ſweet ſelf?
Caz. Miſs Julia?
Lopez. In what manner? my agitation, I fear will diſcover me.
Sir Lein. Only by his impertinent familiarities, and propoſing to the ſweet ſoul to run off with him, and leave me, d'ye ſee Sir Leinſter, diſconſolate behind.
Caz. Conſummate ſcoundrel!
Lopez. Oh, if that be all, Sir, her own good ſenſe and honor will protect her.
Sir Lein. To be ſure and I won't ‘"win her and wear her."’ Here—which of you two lacquies will take—
[Offering the letter.
Caz. I fly vid de letter, Sir!
Lopez. No, your honor, pray entruſt it to me—this is not the kind of correſpondence that the Swiſs uſually conveys to the Count.
Sir Lein. Well—ſee that he has it ſpeedily betwixt you, while I get my little Wogdons ready. I hope this ſame Cypreſs Grove is a ſnug place—that if one of us ſhou'd happen to be kilt, he may not bother the other, with a hue and cry after the ſurvivor.
Caz. But how you know de Comte, Sir, as you never ſee him?
Sir Lein. Oh, let me alone for that—I think I have travell'd far enough to find out a raſcal in any part of the world—and how to puniſh him into the bargain.
Caz. Monſieur guide—tell me—for vhat I ſee de Comte give you dat money juſt now?
Lopez. To make your mouth water for a ſhare of it—look ye, Mr. Swiſs, our ſuſpicions of each [Page 45] other, if ill founded, may now be removed—by entruſting you with this letter I prove at leaſt that I have no deſire to ſcreen a villain. (Gives the letter.)
Caz. This is more myſterious than all the reſt.
Lopez. Convince me by the punctual delivery of it, that you are equally faithful, and we ſhall ſoon come to a better underſtanding, my life on't.
Caz. Were it not for that purſe of money, I ſhou'd think it poſſible, that this fellow might ſtill be honeſt—but I begin to ſuſpect every thing around me.—Hitherto I have avoided diſcovery! To be baniſhed the family as a friend, and recalled into it as a domeſtic, are tranſitions which fortune in the height of her caprice, does not often diſplay. Yet the ſervice is ſtill hazardous, for with my dialect, I muſt continue to diſguiſe thoſe feelings alſo, which the preſence of her I love ſo naturally inſpires!—Poor Dalton! harder ſtill is his fate, to looſe his own miſtreſs in the kind endeavour to ſecure mine! When in compaſſion to my natural diffidence, he was prevailed upon to convey my ſentiments of affection to JULIA, I little thought it could afford to Miſs Somerville the ſlighteſt ground, for jealouſy or ſuſpicion. Had I ſeen her before ſo abrupt a departure to ſhut herſelf in a family caſtle on the Continent, I might have convinced her at leaſt, that Dalton's interviews with my Julia, were merely to promote the addreſſes of his friend. ‘


[Page 46]
His vows to Julia, lovely maid,
Where all from paſſion free;
Whate'er he look'd, whate'er he ſaid,
In friendſhip 'twas for me.
A ſenſe of honour, would reprove
A thought that wrongly preſſ'd,
And check the ſelfiſh ſigh of love,
Ere it eſcap'd his breaſt.

2.4. SCENE IV.—Near the front of the Caſtle.

DANIEL alone.
Dan. Yes, yes! this muſt be it! chuck full of wizards and hobgoblins I'll warrant it—and there's the drawbridge, upon which the poor knight's miſtreſs daſh'd her pretty ſelf to pieces!—I wiſh my lady had come along with me, for my courage, like my wit, always appears to moſt advantage in good company! I thought I heard one of the ruſty caſements grate on the hinges! (Robin appears on the battlement) That's no ghoſt however!—hip!
Robin. Who's there?
Dan. Only one come to aſk how you are, coop'd up in this diſmal place?
Robin. Pack off! or I muſt unmuzzle the wolf-dog at you!
Dan. I'd rather hear your own ſweet voice—pray come down, good Sir, and prattle here. (ſits on the moat-wall and fills his flaſk from the ſkin) Lud—lud—how it does grieve a body!
Robin (ſoftly) Hallo! what are you about? hip!—I zay, is that the way you grieve? what have you got there?
[Page 47] Dan. Nothing—no—it don't ſignify! theſe are hard times, when a poor fellow like myſelf, can't get a friend to lend him a hand with a ſtoop of old wine. (drinks)
Robin. Old wine!—I ha been taſting a little good ſtuff myſelf, in our cellar—but I dont like tippling alone—zo ztop—and I'll ztep ſoftly down to you.
Dan. I gueſs'd this muſt fetch him, if any thing cou'd.
[Robin lets down the draw-bridge, unlocks the palliſadoe, and comes out with his coat on his arm.
Dan. What a tremendous draw-bridge!
[Robin locks the paliſadoe, and puts the key in his pocket.
Robin. I thought you were zorely grieved about zomewhat!
Dan. So I am. (drinks)
Robin. Then dont'e take it to heart too much—but leave a little for me to grieve along with'e!
Dan. With all the pleaſure in life— (Gives him the flaſk. Robin drinks)—Take a hearty pull at it—it wont hurt you!
Robin. Ecod, it's a clever notion ſure enough!
Dan. Come, now to buſineſs—I've a meſſage of compliment to your caſtle.
Robin. Lord love'e, we never receive any meſſages, or compliments.—Mum! dont'e talk quite ſo loud.
Dan. Now ſhall I hear all about it! (aſide) to be ſure I have heard an odd character of your family—come, among friends—who, and what are you? and are you enchanted or not?
Robin. It's more than my life's worth!
[Page 48] Dan. Indeed! now the more frighten'd I am, the more do I want to ſee the inſide of this caſtle. (aſide) Only let me take a peep at the antient Hall of Arms!
Robin. I be zworn to zecrecy!
Dan. The devil you are! in a ſpell, I ſuppoſe, with a circle made round you with charcoal? (mean time Robin drinks) he ſucks it in kindly! I'll ply him cloſer, and if an open hearted fellow like myſelf, the good creature will ſoon ſoften him.


Fellow-ſervant, come, here's to you!(drinks)
Thank you—and much good may't do you.
That's bravely quaft!
Come, mend your draught!
'Tis the ſtuff with which wiſe men from old Noah's flood
Have enliven'd their hearts, by enriching their blood.
Is this ſack, or not, I query?
No—'tis generous Canary.
Come drain the ſkin, boy, fill the wicker,
Fill it nimbly—drain it quicker!
What a pity that wine, with a bright ſparkling face,
Shou'd not ſmile on poor ſervants when turn'd out of place.
Robin. (ſitting down, and repeating indiſtinctly) Should not ſmile!—what a pity! poor zervants! what a— (falls aſleep.)
Dan. Yes! now I have done it with a vengeance! for I have made him ſpeechleſs, by way of getting the ſecret out of him! if I go [Page 49] back without ſome account of this place, I ſhall neither ſatisfy my lady's curioſity, nor my own. (looking towards the bridge) The drawbridge indeed is down, and the key of the palliſadoe he put into his left hand pocket. But no—I can't bear the petty larceny of picking pockets—ſo I'll e'en change garments with him at once—mine will keep him warm in his nap—and his may ſerve me both for a paſs, and protection. (changes coats.) My heart begins to miſgive me ſorely—but what have I to fear? I don't know that ever I wronged man, woman, or child—ſo, with a good conſcience, I don't ſee what's to harm me. (Enters over drawbridge, and locks the palliſadoe gate after him.)
Robin. (waking at the ſound of the drawbridge) Lord! where be I? why, our caſtle goes round like a whirligig! (looking about) where be the chap? I be ſorry he's gone—he was a kind hearted vellow—for he loved the good ſtuff dearly (ſearches DANIEL's coat for the key) Why! how now? plague take'n, he has been too knowing for me zure enough! —what a pity; what a pity —the devil take his pity!—the cunning rogue muſt be one of the mountain banditti! he's got my key of the drawbridge, and, as zure as I'm alive, let the gang in while I was a little dizzey! mercy on us, what mun I do? Why the Swiſs guards be quartered not far off—zo I'll run and vetch ſome of them, and they'll match'n for it, I warrant'e!

2.5. SCENE V.—Cypreſs Grove.

[Page 50]
Sir LEINSTER with a caſe of piſtols, looking at his watch.
Sir Lein. How punctual I am—only a quarter of an hour before my own appointment—To be ſure, and it's not a mark of very ill breeding to keep a jontleman waiting in an affair of honour! but, Sir Leinſter, you may as well, my dear, be getting things in readineſs, and take out your little family. (takes his piſtols out of the caſe, meaſures ſix ſhort paces, ſets up his cane and his hat upon it, falls back, and ſtrips to his flannel waiſtcoat) I always take off my outer garment on theſe occaſions; for there is, I think, Rothing ſo beggarly, as for a jontleman to wear a fine coat with a hole in it. (puts himſelf in a fighting attitude, levelling at his hat)
Burgo. Let the guard be relieved regularly, that the peace of the city may be duly preſerved.
Sir Lein. The two deareſt friends in the whole creation could not wiſh to fight at a prettier diſtance!
Burgo. What man is this playing ſuch anticks?
Sir Lein. Oh! and are you come at laſt? I thought you did not intend to let me ſee your odd face again.
Burgo. I am miſtaken, if ever I ſaw your's before.
[Page 51] Sir Lein. That's all one—the fewer words, you know, the better—ſo you may ſtick yourſelf up at once by my cane, if you pleaſe.
Burgo. This muſt be ſome man deranged in his mind!
Sir Lein. Oh, if you prefer it a pace or two nearer its all one to Sir Leinſter.
Burgo. Armed! this poor creature may endanger his own life, if not that of others—what ho!
Guards enter.
Secure this unfortunate man, but treat him with lenity, till you hear further from me.
Guards ſeize Sir Leinſter.
Sir Lein. Seize me! for what? oh, you prodigious coward! this is a new faſhion'd way of giving a jontleman ſatisfaction indeed!
Serj. Peace!
Sir Leins. Only wait a moment, and ſee if I don't wing him at leaſt.

2.5.1. AIR XXI.—TRIO and CHORUS.

This traitor to the guard houſe take,
For he has loſt his reaſon,
'Tis thus their wits low knaves forſake,
To dabble in high treaſon.
We'll all his ſly manoeuvres mark!
Now march away, the precious ſpark,
For hark! the roll call! hark!
(drum heard without.
Sir Leins.
Unhand me varlets, what d'ye mean?
I'm ſure yourſelves are crazy!
Och, let me but that coward cane,
'Twill make me mighty eaſy.
[Page 52]
Soon you'll be tried by laws of High Court Martial
And from their honors' ſentence, ſo impartial,
Be cat-o-nine-tail'd out of breath,
Or elſe more nobly ſhot to death.
Enter COMTE, looking round fearfully.
Comte. I have no grand inclination pour le combat! (ſings melancholy) but I ſave mon reputation if poſſible—no body here but moi meme! courage, mon ami. (ſings bolder) Ma foi, he no come at all! (ſings) la, la, la! aw, aw! voila! de laquais vid one apologé!
SWISS Enters.
Caz. Sir Leinſter not here? this fellow's triumph will be inſupportable.
Comte. Eh Bien! vere be votre maitre?
Caz. I come, Monſieur, from—
Comte. No Sir—no apologé will do—my honor will have de ſatisfaction inſtament.
LOPEZ, looking in.
Lopez. And that damn'd Swiſs of ours to be his ſecond after all! (aſide)
Caz. But Monſieur a little patience.
Comte. No Sir—I will have no littel patience.
Lopez. What a furious dog this turns out! why, where the devil is Sir Leinſter? he has miſtaken the place—I'll run and ſee for him.
Comte. I vill proclaim votre maitre un grand poltroon—if he no come, vy he not ſend ſome [Page 53] depute?—I fight le diable himſelf, if he ſend to me! (Sings) ‘"Malbrook il va ton guerra!"’
Caz. Den Sir accept de humble endeavour of de ſervant to appeaſe you. (Draws his ſword and throws off his cloak.)
Comte. Quelle outrage! fight vid de Valet and de Swiſs—no Sir—I no condeſcend to kill à you en veritè!—
[Puts up his ſword.
Caz. Pitiful evaſion! behold the man who is now oppos'd to you and ſee, if in any lineament of his face, you can read diſhonour!
Oh miſerable—un diable Anglois!
Caz. Come, Sir—
Enter LOPEZ, undiſcovered.
Lopez. Ay, ay! Why, here's a new turn to the game.
Caz. No wonder that the aſſailant of a woman's honor ſhou'd want the ſpirit to defend his own.
Lopez. Well done, our Swiſs! he's an honeſt fellow after all!
Caz. You wear in that hat a military emblem, which you muſt no longer diſgrace—give it to me.
Comte. Cette pettite ribbon la? Oh, wid all mon coeur!
Caz. One thing more—depart this city immediately—if you are found within a league of it an hour hence, your diſgrace ſhall be the more exemplary.
Lopez. Eh! ſurely that voice is familiar to my ear!
Comte. La capitulation—let me conſidere! (aſide) ma foi, as I intend to get into de Caſſel bewitch dis ver night, in ſearch of de beauty, and [Page 54] beaucoup de l'argent—why not, I ſet off to reconnoitre dis ver moment?
Caz. Come, Sir—
Comte. Monſieur, to do you de obligation, I ſhall go a la campagne avec beaucoup de plaiſir! and ſo, bon jour, mon ami! you have got my little ribbon—you are von comical man upon my honor.
Lopez. My honeſt fellow, give me your hand. (Looking earneſtly at him.
Caz. Why de man ſtare ſo amaze?
Lopez. (Aſide) 'Tis he, as I live!—why you muſt know I was rather ſurpriz'd to hear a Swiſs diſcourſe in ſuch excellent Engliſh. The dog has taken us all in, and I'm heartily glad of it!
Caz. My indignation, I own, has got the better of my prudence; but as I now begin to think I have done you injuſtice, by ſuſpecting you to be in league with this contemptible count—I'll atone for it by owning to you, that I am not what I ſeem, but—an unfortunate Engliſhman in diſguiſe.
Lopez. Indeed? How my boſom labours to acknowledge him for one of my own! (aſide) you have follow'd this family then, I preſume, Sir, in friendſhip for its maſter?
Caz. Not ſo—tho' no one can revere that worthy man more than myſelf—I have attended them in this diſguiſe with fear and trembling.
Lopez. For what?
Caz. Leſt I ſhould loſe all that makes life deſirable, in his lovely daughter!
Lopez. I ſhrewdly ſuſpect then, that you love her, good Sir!
[Page 55] Caz. Adore her! now have I imparted to you the deareſt ſecret of my heart. Should you attempt to betray me, you ſhall not ſurvive it.
Lopez. That's one way of making a man keep a ſecret ſure enough! but depend on me, Sir—and accept of a little advice into the bargain. Loſe no more time in your diſtant adoration—tell the young lady that you muſt, and will have her, and ſhe has too great a regard for truth, I am ſure, to let ſo clever a Gentleman as you break his word.

2.6. SCENE V.—The Glacieres.

Dalton. No poor ſinner ever ſuffered more in his pilgrimage of conſcience, than I in this penance of unrequited love. ‘

2.6.1. AIR XXII.

Heavily drag the dull hours along,
Every hope diſappearing;
Where, for a comfort, alas, ſhall I turn,
Or look for a ray that is cheering.
How unrelentling, how cruel of fate,
Hearts ſo entwin'd to ſever;
Why have I trac'd out her diſtant abode,
When gone is her love for ever?
Oh, how enraptur'd I've dwelt on her ſmiles,
Smiles which ſo oft' have reliev'd me!
And on her vows ſo tenderly made,
Vows, which alas! have deceiv'd me!
How unrelenting, how cruel, &c.
’ But a truce to this fruitleſs complainng.—Where, I wonder, is my Mountain Nymph? The time of her appointment is near—But what fantaſtical being have we here?
[Page 56]
Enter COMTE, (Haſtily, with a Paraſol, &c. ſinging.)
Comte. Ah! ah! un bon Garcon. Bon jour, mon ami!
Dalton. Pray, Sir, to what accident may I aſcribe the honour of this viſit?
Comte. For what I come here? Oh, I ſhall tell you dans un moment.—I am de Comte Friponi, who was juſt oblige to fly from Geneve pour un little affaire d'honeur.
Dalton. Something of the duel kind, I preſume?
Comte. Oui; a littel rencontre! Une belle Angloiſe, ſhe attract with ma perſoné, and mon canto bello (ſinging) ſhew to me ſome little civilitè d'amour.
Dalton. Very flattering, no doubt!
Comte. Ver flattere to be ſure: But her Lover, bien impoli, reſent it! call a me out! and I was ſo malheureuſe to run him thro' de body. (Sings)Ah mio core, &c.’
Dalton. Killed him?
Comte. Oui; dead at my feet! But dat is not all; de pauvre Lady herſelf die for love of me at dis ver moment! (Singing.)
Dalton. Quick work, indeed, with both ſexes. I ſuppoſe, Sir, you never fail?
Comte. Oh nevere! Jamais! nevere. ‘


For de vomen, I've de plan, Sir,
Oh to charm dem—I'm de man, Sir!
Den I do—vid ſuch an air,
Ev'ry ting beyond compare!
Be ſhe Spaniſh,
Or Daniſh,
[Page 57]
Or Ruſſian,
Or Pruſſian,
Venetian, Grecian, Portugueſe,
Or pretty, prattling Piedmonteſe;
O, de ſweet and lovely creature,
I adore her every feature!
Each ſoft word of love I utter,
Set her little heart to flutter:
Vid de kiſs—her lip ſo huſh is.
Ven I ogle—den ſhe bluſhes:
If ſhe hear my canto bello
Den ſhe cry—Oh charming fellow!
Mara, Banti, Pachierotti,
Billingtoni, ſweet Manghotti,
Little David, great Marcheſi,
Never give ſuch note to pleaſe ye!
Giornovichi, or Giardini,
Bold Paſquali, or Nardini,
Corporalli or Viotti,
Paiſſiello or Mingotti.
Sarti, Bruni, Boccherini,
Heydn, Pleyel, San Martini,
Gret [...]ry, Ditters, fat Jomelli,
Bach, Clementi, or Corelli,
Croſdil wid de rapid bow,
Hautboy Parke, or Florio,
[Page 58] Cannot make ſo pretty ſtrain
To relieve de lover's pain!
But ſhould rival come to fight me. (draws his ſword.)
Sa! Sa! to pink him it delight me;
Angelo, D'Eon, La Piere,
Fam'd St. George, or Lindamere,
Flanconade I puſh ſo neat,
Dead I lay him at my feet. (returns his ſword.)
Den return, like gallant fellow,
To de girl wid canto bello!
Viganoni, Morichelli,
Lovetini, Faranelli,
Alligranti, Gabrielli,
Creſſentini, Rubenelli,
Never warble ſo complete!
Mara never ſing wid voice fo ſweet,
Cramer never play de bow ſo neat!
Enter NERRIDA. (peeping)
Ner. Oh dear, as ſure as I am alive there are two of them; and that's more than I bargain'd for! But one ſeems a Frenchman.
(Comte walking and ſinging by himſelf.)
Dalton How am I to get rid of this fellow?
Ner. What can there be in an Engliſhman, that makes him ſo ſuperior a creature all the world over? When a countryman's by, there's no danger, ſo I'll e'en venture. Good day, gentlemen.
Comte. Ah ma chere—Vous etes belle comme.—
(Dalton talks apart to her.)
By gar, une jolie dame of de Caſtle! Ah! ma foi I make her let me in by love, which is ſo mcuh better than de force. (aſide.)
Dalton. Hark ye, Sir, I have the vanity to think that this viſit was not intended for you; [Page 59] and therefore to avoid giving you the trouble, either of killing another unhappy lady, or running me through the body, I muſt requeſt the favour of you to retire.
Ner. Well, how charming it is to be made ſo much of!
Comte. Retire? Sir, I muſt know what you mean by retire.
Dalton. (turning him round) This inſtant retire!
Comte. Well, Sir, to oblige you I will retire. I take my conge. But by gar, I muſt know a little more of this petit rendezvous to oblige myſelf. (aſide).
Dalton. Now, my pretty incognita, for the remainder of your hiſtory.
Ner. No, not a tittle of intelligence reſpecting the ſtrength or weakneſs of our garriſon, till you are on actual ſervice. In the mean time can you venture to confide in me?
Dalton. Moſt fully.
Comte (peeping). Ah! ah! here come the denouement! (aſide).
Ner. I may put it in your power then, to do an act with which your heart can never reproach you.
Dalton. Command me in what way you pleaſe.
Comte. And me ſo too—if it be de way I like. (aſide)
Ner. Be near the Ivy Turret then, about Sunſet, where I will endeavour to meet you.
Dalton. I will certainly attend you.
Comte (aſide). Ma foi, and I ſo too!
[Page 60]


As ſoon as Moon-beams bright,
Lead Faries, and Elves a gadding,
And dazzle lovers ſight,
'Till all their wits are madding,
Will you appear,
Our roof to cheer,
And ſet our hearts a gladding?
Yes, yes! yes, yes, Oh, yes, and ſet, &c.
Beneath the lamp of night,
While fairy tribes are playing,
And by its witching light
Love's whiſperers are ſtraying;
I will appear,
In hopes to cheer,
And ſet your hearts a gladding.
Yes, yes! yes, yes! Oh yes! and ſet, &c.
Be ſecret
Be watchful I implore you.
Or I'll be dere before you. (aſide)
This coming night
Shall give delight,
When all around is ſtill!
Then I,
And I,
Will gladly fly,
My promiſe to fulfill.
Ner. and Dalton.
Your promiſe to fulfill!
My promiſe to fulfill!

3. 3

[Page 61]


Enter LOPEZ.
It's aſtoniſhing how much I'm made of in my new character: but this is not the firſt time that the ſervant has been preferr'd to his maſter! Where I ſhall find my friend, Sir Leinſter, I know not; for no ſooner had I procured his liberty, than out he ſallied after the Count, in ſearch of a freſh adventure. Now for this fam'd Caſtle, which Lady Philippa, ſtill thinking it the Count's, is ſo impatient to behold: no improper ſcene for an appeal to her pride, from the detection of an impoſtor: there my day's experiments will terminate; ſhould they fail in the reformation of a wife, they will enable me at leaſt to ſecure, in honeſt Dorimond, the happineſs of my child.
Enter CAZELL, (with a Bouquet)
Cazell. I have collected the few flowers this country wou'd afford; ſcanty as they are, I can trace among them, emblems of my own miſery with thoſe of Julia's charms! yet I dare not preſent them in my own perſon. To live in this perpetual anxiety, fearful of alarming her by my diſcovery, yet dreading to loſe her for ever, is [Page 62] that alternate wretchedneſs I cannot endure! But ſhe comes this way, and ſeemingly more penſive than before!
Enter JULIA. (not obſerving Cazell)
Julia. This excurſion to the Caſtle is no doubt intended to expoſe me to ſome new mortification. (ſits muſing.)
Cazell. (anxiouſly approaching) Miſs Julia—! you ſeem indiſpoſe.
Julia. Oh Cazell, is it you?
Cazell. I have bring de flowers, Miſs, you aſk for.
Julia. Lay them on the table, Cazell. I ſhall ſoon recover my ſpirits!

3.1.1. AIR XXIV.—

Twin roſes you've archly contriv'd,
To diſplay all your charms on your face,
For fragrance you knew was deriv'd,
From the boſom you're deſtin'd to grace.
Here is "Love lies a bleeding" behind,
But of "Heart's eaſe," no bud did I view,
In my ſearch, not a ſprig cou'd I find,
Or elſe I had cull'd it for you.
Rude clime; 'twas in vain to explore,
For a bouquet of nature in thee,
Where Flora, alas! is no more,
Than a poor humble ſtranger like me!
(By the emphatic expreſſion of the laſt line ſhe diſcovers him as he kneels.)
Julia. Oh! Dorimond!—is it poſſible?
[Page 63]
Enter Lady PHILIPPA and LOPEZ.
Lady Phil. What is all this?
Cazell. We are undone! (aſide.)
Lopez. Heyday, why here's another knee ſcene—Mr. Whiſkers is now at his devotions!
Julia. One hope remains (aſide)—as you have the opportunity Cazell—ſolicit her ladyſhip now ſelf.
Lopez. No bad hit for a young one! (aſide.)
Cazell. What can ſhe poſſibly mean?
Lady Phil. But what is it he wiſhes?
Lopez. If I don't lend a hand, it's all over with them, I ſee. (aſide.) Why, my lady, the poor fellow, from what I can learn of the matter, thinks he is likely to loſe his place, on account of your having retained me:—ſo on his bended knee (beckons to Cazell) down! down! (aſide) as you again behold, he ſolicits the honour to remain in your ladyſhip's ſervice. (Cazell kneels to Lady Philippa.)
Lady Phil. Oh, now I underſtand him perfectly—and do not diſapprove the creature's humility—
Julia. Admirable invention! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. Well, then, you have no great reaſon to fear, young man, after preferring your ſuit with ſo much decorum.
Julia. Nor are you leſſened in my eſteem, Cazell, for this mark of your attachment to the family.
Cazell. My life is devote to your ſervice! (looking from Lady Phillippa, to Julia, who makes ſignals of affection to him and retires) how fortunate the eſcape! (to Lopez.)
Lopex. And who young ſpark, may you thank for it?
[Page 64] Lady Phil. Have you no tidings of the Count, Lopez?
Lopez. None, my lady—that you'll like to hear at preſent. (aſide)
Lady Phil. He has not withdrawn himſelf, I hope, in chagrin, at the coolneſs of my reception? Hearing of my intended viſit to the caſtle, who knows but he may be gone thither, to prepare for our reception?
Lopez. Nothing more likely, my lady!
Lady Phil. You, Lopez, who underſtand the neceſſary appendages to a woman of faſhion, would not adviſe me to neglect ſo elegant a chaperon, would you?
Lopez. Oh, by no means!
Lady Phil. Take this letter then, and deliver it immediately to the Count, if he remains in Geneva—It only appoints an explanatory rendezvous at the caſtle, to convince him, I meant not to treat him with diſreſpect: (gives the letter) but return as ſoon poſſible, that we may fly to behold the antient beauties of the Hall of arms!
Lopez. I am at laſt, in the high road to family honours, or the devil's in it! (aſide.)
Lady Phil. The Pariſians, you know, Lopez—apropos, you ſpeak french like a native, no doubt?
Lopez. There, I fear, ſhe'll have me. (aſide) As to modern French, my lady, it has been ſome time on the decline, and is evidently growing more barbarous every day—ſo that I ſeldom uſe more than two words, which I find ſufficient paſſports where-ever I go. ‘


[Page 69]
The ſoul of wit is brevity,
As all the antients tell us;
So, men of feweſt words muſt be
The wittieſt of fellows.
Then why multiply words when a couple will do,
Like Manger,
And Changer,
So glibly to carry one all the world thro'!
Two words will any bargain ſtrike,
'Twixt all inclin'd to barter;
Except with women, who diſlike
To loſe the prattling charter.
Then why multiply words, &c.

3.2. SCENE II.—A room in the Caſtle.

DANIEL coming out of a cloſet.
Dan. I have cooped myſelf up theſe three hours, in this diſmal wing of the caſtle, and now only venture out like a bat at duſk, for a mouthful of freſh air! This curſed curioſity of mine, I fear, will bring me to an untimely end!—here may I be hang'd like a ſcarecrow out of the watch tower, or rolled down the battlements by a pair of witches in a butt full of ſpiked nails! All my hope is, that ſome good chriſtian will come this way before it's quite dark to relieve me—Where have I got my unfortunate ſelf? (runs againſt a toilette table) As ſure as I'm alive, I have ſtumbled into ſome lady's bedchamber! what have we here, I fancv a looking glaſs, though none of the neweſt faſhion—I thought I heard a [Page 66] footſtep! this has ſhewn many a nob in its time, perhaps now it may contrive to hide one. (conceals himſelf behind the glaſs)
Ner. Oh, that my ſcheme may ſucceed! aſſiſted by this honeſt Engliſhman—who knows but I may prevail upon Miſs Somerville to return to England—at any rate the attempt muſt beguile her of ſome ſad moments, and that will make me happy—But what ſhall I call him? couſin? oh no, that won't do—for methinks one might have no great objection to be nearer related to him! I would fain put on my beſt looks, ſo I'll e'en take a peep how my bonnet ſits (walking towards the glaſs) and yet, my old friend, you and I, are almoſt tired of each other, an't we? ‘


Dull reflector of odd faces,
I'll no more converſe with you,
Give me back, my ſmiles and graces,
Or, pray give me ſomething new.
If by magic or ſkill, brittle ſhewman,
You wou'd tickle the heart of a woman,
The ſecret to you I'll diſcover:
When ſhe looks for a grace,
You muſt ſhew her the face
Of a man—to convert to a lover.
Wou'd you win her to good nature,
And her frowns lay on the ſhelf;
Only give her back a creature,
More bewitching than herſelf.
If by magic, &c,
[Page 67] (Daniel in peeping, reverſes the glaſs, and is diſcovered through the frame.)
Ner. (Shrieks) Oh lud! a man! whence came you, and how got you here?
Dan. Now, for pity's ſake, miſs, don't be ſo violent! I'm more frightened than you, a thouſand times over, and yet you don't hear me cry out!
Ner. Tell me, this inſtant, who, and what are you?
Dan. An out of the way kind of travelling gentleman—whoſe curioſity, as you may ſee, now and then gets him into a ſcrape.
Enter MARGERY, and other ſervants.
All. Oh dear ma'am! what's the matter?
Ner. Secure this ruffian, who by ſome means has broke in with an intent to murder us all, and plunder the caſtle!
Marg. My poor, dear Robin! look! ſee!
Servant. And ſo he has ſure enough—murdered poor Robin, and got on his very cloaths!
Ner. Convey him inſtantly to the dungeon, till I learn your lady's pleaſure.
(They ſeize him.
Dan. Only hear me, fair lady—as I hope for mercy!—
Enter ROBIN in Daniel's dreſs.
Marg. My deareſt Robin—then they have not killed thee quite!
Robin. Oh, you treacherous knave! only bear witneſs, he's got my jacket on at this very moment.
[Page 68] Daniel. If I had known, I would not have been in your coat for a hundred ducats.
Ner. Where have you been, Robin?
All. Ay, where?
Robin. I hardly knowz where I'a been—or what I 'a been about!—that rogue, there, gave me zweet poizon in a ſkin of wine, and I 'a been azleep—or out of my zenſes ever zince.
Marg. Oh, the mercileſs villain!
Robin. He be one of the mountain banditti, and the reſt of the gang will zoon be after 'n!—he ſtripped me o' my coat, and the key of the drawbridge in a whif—and I cou'd only get back to 'e Margery, by ſwimming over the moat like a water-rat—but there be they a coming, will teach'n better, I'll warrante.
Daniel. Indeed, and indeed, I'm as innocent as—
Ner. Away with him, and confine him cloſely till further orders.
[Exeunt ſeverally.

3.3. SCENE III—A diſtant view of the Caſtle at ſunſet.

Though the affections of Miſs Somerville may have been eſtranged from me, by the caſual inheritance of theſe domains, I feel, as I approach yon caſtle, that my heart muſt ſtill pay a conſtant homage to its cruel poſſeſſor.—How dignified its turrets riſe, graceful even in decay!—Time was, a chief no doubt it boaſted, whoſe ſun of glory ſmiled on ages paſt;—whether his virtues have deſcended with his name, the mouldering manſion ſeems to queſtion. ‘

3.3.1. *AIR XXVII.

[Page 6]
Say, Fame,
What is there in a titled name!
Or what in birth
To give hereditary worth,
That fleeting ſhadow of a noble pile,
On which the beams of honour proudly ſmile!
Let not around
Thy clarion breathe its ſacred ſound,
Unleſs to fire,
The ſon to emulate a glorious ſire!

3.4. SCENE IV.—A plantation walk near the battlements of the caſtle.—Moonlight.

ROBIN alone.
Robin. If d'ye zee I'd know'd there was but only he, I zhould not have thought it worth while to vetch ſo many zoldiers for one rogue. Certain, howzever, I've placed the whole tribe of the Switz guards at the foot of the mountain.—But, mum, Robin, not a zyllable about the zoldier volk, for fear my lady ſhou'd be angry.
Miſs Som. And what does the ruffian ſay for himſelf, Robin?
Robin. Why, an' pleaſe you, my lady, he zays but little—but as I took a peep at'n thro' the iron lattice, he zeem'd to pay it away wi' thinking!
[Page 70] Miſs Som. I hope you let him want for nothing?
'Robin. 'Oh, no my lady; I took'n two ribs of roaſt beef, and a zlice of baked pudding myzelf—but the zulky toad woud 'na feed.'
'Miſs Som. 'Poor wretch—perhaps he may be unwell.'
'Robin. 'Unwell?—oh, he's a rum little chap!—but he ſhall give me my dry coat back again, howzever—When I clapp'd the beef down on the ztool before 'n, what now, my lady, do you think the cunning rogue zaid?—Iz thiz the way you treat your ztate prizoners, zays he—virzt and voremozt to take away their ztomachs, and then to zet good cheer before 'n?'
'Miſs Som. 'Well, Nerinda!'
Ner. 'He'll confeſs nothing, ma'am, but that curioſity compell'd him to play this device upon Robin.'
'Robin. 'Yez, gad rat 'n!'
'Miſs Som. 'Of what country is he?'
'Ner. 'I believe he's an Engliſhman.'
'Miſs Som. 'Some poor frantic wanderer—enquire of him further, and anon I'll ſee him myſelf.'
'Robin. 'Lord, my lady, hez as cunning a little villain, with a tongue—'
'Ner. 'As nimble as your own. Come, follow me.'
[Exeunt Nerinda and Robin.
'Miſs Som. 'Calm is this parting ſcene of nature—how ſoft her whiſpers of repoſe! Even the voice of ſorrow now is ſtill, ſave from that lovelorn bird, whoſe ſtrains I hear.' ‘


[Page 71]
Still let thy plaintive numbers flow,
Sweet bird of ſolitude and night,
And I will join the ſong of woe,
Until the morn's returning light.
With thee I'll ſhun the world's relief,
Woo ſorrow only to my breaſt,
And preſs, for luxury of grief,
The thorn, that will not let it reſt!
Enter NERINDA haſtily.
Ner. Oh dear, ma'am, a body of armed men, no doubt the whole gang, are halted towards the weſt tower.
Miſs Som. Impoſſible! and in a country ſo fam'd for peace and freedom?
Ner. Indeed, and indeed its true!
Miſs Som. Tho' few in number, let our domeſtics then inſtantly arm!
Ner. But what ſhall we do with our priſoner?
Miſs Som. Order him in the front of the battlement, as a fit ſacrifice to the lawleſs rage of his confederates. Let us even forget the weakneſs of our ſex, and arm ourſelves, Nerinda.
Ner. Oh dear, ma'am, you wont pretend to fight: what can ſuch helpleſs creatures as we do?
Miſs Som. Wonders, in a juſt cauſe! at leaſt, Nerinda, we can expoſe to abhorrence that ſavage licentiouſneſs, which even women are compell'd to reſiſt.
[Exit Miſs Somerville.
'Ner. 'How unfortunate, as well as alarming—for this is the very time I was to admit [Page 72] my good natured mountain acquaintance:—and why not even now, when we ſtand more in need of a gallant man than ever!'

3.5. SCENE V.—The Abbey Gate.

Enter Comte FRIPONI diſguiſed, with FREEBOOTERS.
'Comte. 'De place of rendezvous—it was luck I meet la petite fille de chambre!—Attendez—ven I go in—keep cloſe to my perſon, for fear of me ſurprize.'
'1ſt Freebooter. 'We'll follow your honour cloſe, rely upon it.'
'Comte. 'For why ſhe not appear?—prenez garde—voila, le diable Anglois!'
[Falls back, but appears liſtening.

3.5.1. AIR XXIX.

Love may lead my ſteps aſtray;
Where, ah where's ma jolie fille?
Come, and ſafely point the way,
Wont you? Yes, I'm ſure you will!
Venez donc ma jolie fille!
Let me not in vain implore,
Hither fly, ma jolie fille,
Open then the garden door,
Wont you?—yes I'm ſure you will,
Venez donc ma jolie fille!
Dalton. This is ſtrange! I muſt have miſtaken the gate, for why ſhould ſhe deceive me?
[Exit round the walls.
[Page 79]
Enter LOPEZ, and CAZELL with drawn ſwords, and ſoon after a file of Swiſs Soldiery.


Cazell, Lopez, Dalton, & Robin.
Yield, cruel monſters! vengeance dread!
Which way can the reſt be fled?
Miſs Som.
Calmly I to fate reſign!
Cazell, &c.
Hear the wailing voice to woe.
Advance! 'tis a ſoldier's duty.
To ſave, not to plunder beauty,
Where e'er he's doom'd to go.
Miſs Som.
Take this wretched life of mine!
Comte, and others.
[on Staircaſe.
Let us out before it's night.
(aſide them)
That I will not by this light.
When 'tis woman that inſpires us,
Glory, fires us.
Cazell, and others.
Hear the lovely ſufferers cry?
Comte, &c.
Let us once more daylight ſpy?
[Aſide to 'em.
Hold your tongues and quiet lye.
Soldiers, &c.
Knaves, if here we cannot view you,
O'er the Mountains we'll purſue you.
Comte, &c.
Let us once more daylight ſpy?
[Aſide to 'em.
Hold your tongues once more ſay I.
Soldiers, &c.
Since the ruffians wont appear,
March on!
Miſs Somerville.
Behold your victim here![Throwing open the door, diſcovers herſelf.
Dalton. Miſs Somerville!
Miſs Som. Impoſſible! and arm'd againſt my life?—
[Page 80] Dalton. Oh no! led hither by our better ſtars to defend the perſon of her, who too unkindly fled from his protection!
Miſs Som. Am I to believe thoſe ſenſes which have ſo cruelly deceived me?
Robin. Why, dear heart, my Lady, this is the ſtrange Gentleman that wou'd a vit for dear life to defend you.
Miſs Som. And do I find in Dalton my gallant defender? (Dalton talks apart with her.)
Swiſs Serj. Advance! (to his men.)
Robin. Now dont'e fight no more about my blunders; for I vancy they be all vriends and neighbours, except a few rogues that I a' got ſnug in a corner.
Miſs Som. Why, are not theſe our rude aſſailants whom I ſaw from the Battlement?
Serj. We are guards of the Republic, Lady, marched here to preſerve it's peace, and the property of this Caſtle.
Dalton. All this is wond'rous ſtrange!
Miſs Som. How came I thus deceived?
Robin. Why, my lady, it was all along o' I! for when that comical chap ſtript me, and got the key of the drawbridge, I took'n for one o' the Mountain robbers that I dreamt on laſt Sunday, who like a rogue, meant to let in all his comrades; zo what did I, but run and vetch theſe honeſt zoldier gentry to zave you from murder, or mayhap zomewhat worſe.
Miſs Som. Your zeal rather outran your diſcretion.
Dalton. But it was faithfully intended.
Miſs Som. Come, Charles, attend me now in ſearch of a moſt amiable, and affectionate companion.
[Page 75] Julia. What doings does he mean?
Cazell. I ſuppoſe, Miſs, de rejoice, and firework we hear juſt now.
Lady Phil. Fireworks! I am ſorry he informed them of my coming, I ſhould like to have been received incog; without any particular regard to my rank or diſtinction! but come, which is the entrée, Daniel?
Daniel. Stop a little, my lady, and in the midſt of the buſtle; I'll try to ſtep down, and let you all in, if I die for it!
Cazell. Surely the fellow's mad, Lopez.
Lopez. Oh, no, only bewitched, I ſuppoſe, like the reſt of the caſtle.
[Exeunt over the drawbridge into the caſtle.

3.6. SCENE VII.—Veſtibule within the caſtle.

NERINDA alone.
Ner. Oh! it was all my unfortunate doing! I found out my miſtake, juſt time, enough to fly and force my poor lady, out of their barbarous reach for a moment! Beſet by a hoſt without, and aſſail'd by ruffians within, what hope I of protecting her further?
Enter two Freebooters.
1ſt. Freebooter. Softly, comrade! here ſhe is, and luckily all alone!
2nd. Freebooter. Why then, no ceremony.
(Draw their ſwords, Nerinda obſerving them ſhrieks)
1ſt Freebooter. No uproar, madam, I charge you, to diſturb the peace of the manſion.
[Page 74] Ner. What is it you would have? (they ſeize her.)
2nd Freebooter. The pleaſure of conveying you, and all your valuables into our mountain for protection, fair lady of the caſtle, that's all!
Ner. Lady of the caſtle! indeed, indeed! gentlemen, you are much miſtaken—I am only an humble domeſtic, and therefore every way unworthy of the honour you intend me!
1ſt Freebooter. This inſtant then, ſhew us where ſhe is, and all her treaſure.
Ner. Something leſs than that, gentlemen, I hope will appeaſe you?
2nd Freebooter. No—diſpatch!
Enter COMTE.
Ner. (aſide) The monſter that ſo deceived me!
Comte. Eh bien, ma petite guide! vite! vite! my mules are at de gate to car votre maitreſſe, yourſelf, and all your treaſure to mon chatteau!
Ner. But, Sir, as I had the honour to introduce you, indulge me at leaſt in one ſmall requeſt!
Comte. Oh, certainment qu'eſt que ca?
Ner. Only, Sir, as they are of ſuch conſiderable value, that you will have the goodneſs to take charge of my poor lady's jewels yourſelf!
Comte. Aſſurement! and de lady auſſi, if ſhe be prett comme vous! (aſide) Oh, quelle grand coup! ſhew me to de dear creature dis moment!
Ner. Up this ſtaircaſe of the tower, is an antichamber to the right—there, alas! too ſoon you'll find her!
[Page 77] Comte. Wid de jewels, and beaucoup de l'argent?
Ner. Alas! all!
Comte. Bon! come, you ſhew de way allons!
Ner. Not a word, I entreat you, Sir, that you were directed by me.
Comte. (making ſignals of ſecrecy) Oh! jamais! jamais!
(Exit thro' the ſtair caſe door with Freebooters, Nerinda ſoon after haſtily returns, and bolts it.)
Ner. There, monſter, I have out generall'd you for the preſent, however; where now is my faithful countryman?
Enter ROBIN with a blunderbuſs.

Oh, Robin! I'm glad you're come!

Robin. Fleſh and blood cannot hold out this way much longer!
Ner. Courage, man, I have ſecured three of the ring leaders within here!
Robin. But pray ye madam Nerinda, how did you contrive to nab them ſo nicely?
Ner. Why, as they ſtumbled up the old dark ſtaircaſe, in ſearch of my lady and her jewels, I turned the bolt, and have them all ſafe together.
Robin. Ecod you nick'd 'em there for once, howzever.
Ner. Now you muſt guard the door, without ſaying one word to any body about it, till I return with ſuccour.
Robin. But how mun I manage to keep three ſuch deſperate toads, only under two bolts? I'll try my beſt howzever, till you get more help.
Ner. Ay, do, my honeſt Robin.
(Exit Ner.
[Page 78] Robin. Ecod, then it's lucky enough I've juſt let in the Zwiſs Guard; come now what will, my Lady cannot blame me for vetching 'em, for there's a Banditti zure enough, in the Caſtle now, or the devil's in't. (liſtens at the door) The chaps do zeem pretty quiet tho' in their new lodgings, and they'd beſt keep zo (levelling the blunderbuſs at the door) I be not over fond of your deviliſh pop-guns, vor they lay many a vine fellow flat before he's on his guard. If I'd had but my quarter-ſtaff from the weſt, I'd a crack'd moſt of their noddles myſelf before this time, or know'd the reaſon why—ecod here comes another on 'em!
Enter DALTON, with a drawn hanger.
Dalton. Which way could the ruffians fly?
Robin. Now dont'e come no nigher, or I mun down wi ye!
Dalton. Why, how is all this?
Robin. (looking at him earneſtly) Dear heart and zo you be! our true Engliſh friend that paſſed me juſt now, and ax'd ſo kindly about the poor Ladies.
Dalton. Where are the ſuffering captives? (Robin points to the Tower door behind him.) Confin'd within that Tower; let me inſtantly behold them!
Robin. Can't—I be zet, d'ye zee, as guard over 'en; zo neither vriend nor voe ſhall let 'en out! beſides you're but a youngſter, and they'd be too many for you all to nothing. (noiſe without) The devils own-zelf be in them zurely! vor here's two more! now mun we ztand ztout by one another.
[Dalton goes over to him.
[Page 73] Enter Comte, followed by Freebooters.
Comte. Ah! ah! ſhe no come to Monſieur Anglois! now I try my canto bello!
COMTE ſings the ſame Air.
None as me do love you more,
Cara bella—jolie fille!
Open den de abbey door,
Vont you? ah! by gar you vill,
Cara bella—jolie fille!
(Nerinda opens the gate, and making ſigns, the Comte and Freebooters entering, follow her.)

3.7. SCENE VI.—The Battlements of the Caſtle.

Miſs Somerville appearing on one wing, Daniel and domeſtics on another. A file of Swiſs ſoldiery in Front.—Platoon firing heard.


The Caſtle quick ſurrender,
Ye horde of Mountaineers;
Or elſe our arms ſhall raze it
By ſtorm around your ears.
Miſs Som.
Of pride you can't diſarm me;
So hence, ye ruffian crew!
No ſummons ſhall alarm me!
Nor tyrant force ſubdue. (EXIT.
Are you for war?
No—peace my trade is.
Then will you yield?
Nay, aſk the ladies.
Your walls we muſt batter down.
[Page 74]
Not yet, Sir, I pray!
You'll waſte, thus your powder,
Your ſhot throw away!
Re-enter Miſs SOMERVILLE.
Full Chorus.
Honour bids us prove victorious.
Juſtice bids us prove victorious.
Courage bids us prove victorious.
To repel them, wou'd be glorious!
To ſubdue them, wou'd be glorious!
Gunners, now your mortars bring,
To aſſail the Eaſtern wing.
Hark ye, Sir,—in pity ſpare,
Mercy none of you muſt ſhare.
She who fights, and looks ſo fair!
Full Chorus.
Honour, juſtice, &c.
[Miſs Somerville and domeſtics retire.
Dan, I'm glad they're all marched off to the other ſide of the caſtle! I'll ſtay here and take breath a little! I only turned my back on the cowardly dogs for a minute, and ſpank they had me in an awkward place.
(Muſquetry heard on the other ſide.
There—ſhe's at it again pell mell? (looking out anxiouſly) Eh! yes, but it is—my dear Lady coming! and my deliverance I hope along with her!
Lopez. Yes, yes, we are right enough—for ſee your ladyſhip's truſty courier on the battlement.
Lady Phil. Looking out to announce our arrival! I hope we are not too late, Daniel?
Daniel. Oh! no, my Lady, you're time enough to have a ſhare of it. Here have been warm doings, I promiſe you!
[Page 73] Robin. Now, Mr. Serjeant, only be you zo good as to mount guard a little at this door—and I'll vetch you a bottle or two of old Engliſh ſtingo to whet your whiſkers with!—'after that we'll rummage the ſtair-caſe, when madam Nerinda comes, and zee whether we a got vriends, or foes there; vor we've been at ſuch croſs purpoſes o' late, that I don't know which they may turn out after all.'—One thing now, however's zertain—that my lady's old zweet heart be come to vetch her home—zo I'll go and let our Madge out of the cellar, and bid her pack up her duds for Old England!

3.7.1. AIR XXXII.

Acroſs the briny zeas I'll zteer,
And back to Taunton Dean,
To tell the little huzzies there,
The zights that I ha zeen!
Oh rare be the doings of Taunton Dean! O rare, &c.
When I zet out for voreign parts,
Poor zouls, how they did cry!
I thought they wou'd ha' broke their hearts,
They were zo fond o'I!
O ſad were the doings of Taunton Dean! O ſad, &c.
If they could cry when I were gone
In grief for zuch a boy.
Why zure, when I goes back a mon
They'll cry again for joy!
Oh rare be the doings of Taunton Dean! Oh rare, &c.
My zunday zpouſe poor Madge I'll make,
As vree as vlow'rs in May,
And from the little jades I'll take
A wife for every day!
O rare then the doings of Taunton Dean! Oh rare, &c.

3.8. SCENE VIII.—The antient Hall, illuminated and decorated with banners, and armorial bearings.

[Page 74]
Lady Phil. You have told me many ſtrange things to be ſure, child; but reſpecting the feudal inheritance of this caſtle, I fancy I know a little more than you. Indeed, how you became its reſident at all, is matter of great ſurprize to me.
Miſs Som. To receive your ladyſhip within its walls on any terms, is an honour I little expected.
'Lady Phil. 'I always ſaid that you and Dalton wou'd come together; and a very decent alliance for two young families on both ſides—you cou'd not deceive me, child.'
'Miſs Som. 'No, Lady Philippa; I fear that I have been too buſily employed in deceiving myſelf.'
Lady Phil. (Taking her glaſs, and looking round the Hall.) Let me contemplate the antient banners, and armorial bearings! near this ſpot, no doubt, the gallant Knight of Charlemagne, true to his plighted vow, fell in the preſence of a beloved miſtreſs
Enter DORIMOND, leading JULIA.
and honourably died!
Dor. Fit ſcene for a more humble KNIGHT of Love, to claim the hand of her—for whom he fondly lives!
Lady Phil. I'm all amazement! Dorimond!
Julia. Dear madam, allow me to declare, that tho' I knew not of Dorimond's diſguiſe, my heart, adopting his ſentiments, naturally triumphs in its ſucceſs!
[Page 75] 'Dalton. 'Oh, your ladyſhip will excuſe it all, when you obſerve, that the rogue, Dorimond, has deceived even me, his beſt friend, by the metamorphoſis.—Now Louiſa, I truſt you behold Miſs Sidney in her real character.'
Miſs Som. I do—as a rival created only by own ſuſpicions.
[Miſs Som. Julia, Dalton and Dorimond, talk apart.
Lady Phil. Who waits? where is my guide, Lopez!
Cazell. I left him, my lady, in the courtyard, paying due reſpect to the Count Friponi.
Lady Phil. The Comte?—oh, I'm rejoiced that he is arrived!
'Dalton. 'What, my chaunting, woman-killing hero?'
'Cazell. 'Why, do you know this vaunting braggart, Charles?'
'Dalton. 'Perfectly!'
Lady Phil. But where is he? I'm impatient to welcome his arrival.
Cazell. He's in his own apartments, my lady, but rather in a diſhabille.
Julia. I'm ſorry this wretch is return'd to torment us.
Miſs Som. What can all this mean? (aſide to Cazell.)
Cazell. Why, ma'am, the plain matter of fact is, that like other great men, ſome of the Count's enterprizes have miſcarried: his laſt deſign was to diſpoſſeſs you of this caſtle; but failing in this attempt, he has modeſty enough, as a freebooter, to put up with one of its dungeons!
[Page 76] All. The leader of the banditti!
Lady Phil. The Count diſgraced, and in a dungeon? Oh, that Mr. Sidney were returned! (aſide.) Lopez ſhall inſtantly depart for Straſburgh!
Cazell. On what errand, my lady?
Lady Phil. In ſearch of Mr. Sidney, the only perſon in whom I can ſafely confide.
Enter SIDNEY in his own dreſs.
Mr. Sidney. A ſingle wiſh of your's reſtores him back to happineſs, as well as ſight!— (Lifts up his bandeau.)
Lady Phil. I am petrified, aſtoniſhed, and every way deceived.
Mr. Sidney. Not ſo my Lady Philippa, if I have at laſt but the good fortune to prove—the man to your mind!
All. Mr. Sidney!
Julia. My dear father in faithful Lopez!
'Mr. Sidney. 'Where's the wonder, Lady Philippa, that I, an old friend, ſhould have procured you a more truſty guide than your new faſhion'd acquaintance?'
Dor. And can it be poſſible, Sir?
Mr. Sidney. Yes, your fellow-ſervant in diſguiſe.—But once or twice, young ſpark, we had nearly been too cunning for each other.
'Dalton. 'You have contrived Sir, to hit off an admirable character in this travelling maſquerade.'
'Lady Phil. 'The ſhaft of ridicule has reached me. I perceive but too late, that to perſiſt, even in a family prejudice, is unworthy of a great, or a good mind.'
'Mr. Sidney. '(Taking her by the hand) Oh, never too late to renounce an error, which an amiable [Page 77] heart muſt have long diſclaim'd! This billet, which I confeſs to have peruſed, has removed all my ſerious apprehenſions. I return it, therefore, as an harmleſs, tho' unguarded document of faſhionable levity.'
Mr. Sidney. Twice has this gallant adventurer ſaved our only child: join with me then, Lady Philippa, in beſtowing her hand upon him, and thus ſecure the faithful ſervices of an honeſt fellow thro' life.
Lady Phil. Moſt chearfully.
Dori. How ſhall I ever repay—
Mr. Sidney. Not by long ſpeeches, Dorimond—You have won her by no feats of anceſtry, but your own natural deſerts; if ſhe prove a bleſſing therefore, long may you live to wear it.
Lady Phil. Oh! Mr. Sidney, you have taught me at length to feel, that to contribute to the happineſs of thoſe around us, is far more honourable than all the pomp that heraldry can boaſt.
'Mr. Sidney. 'Then have I neither toil'd, nor travell'd in vain!'
Sir Leinſter. I perceive you generally contrive that Sir Leinſter ſhou'd be front rank, where there's a priſon; and always in the rear, when there's either love, or fair fighting! But I'm in luck that the Comte has got his deſerts, tho' I have loſt mine! And what a mighty pretty ſiege you have had, where you've mann'd all your works with women! (looking at Miſs Som.) 'Palliluh! why, is the devil's ſelf come to you all, that you ladies ſhou'd turn ſoldiers, and your lacquies become fine gentlemen? I dare ſay, now, it's all very funny, if one could but find out the reaſon why?'
[Page 78] Dan. O yes, Sir, I've heard of all your pranks, and find I am the only ſufferer, by keeping my own countenance.
Mr. Sidney. All ſhall be explained, Sir Leinſter, to your ſatisfaction.
Dalton. But its time we muſter our little garriſon, to get a return of our miſſing, and wounded.
Lady Phil. Where is poor Daniel?
Enter NERINDA, leading in DANIEL.
Ner. Having properly diſpoſed of the ruffianly Comte, who baſely ſurprized me, I thought in my duty to adminiſter the beſt comfort in my power to one, who has ſuffered a little too ſeverely from his own curioſity, and my miſtake.
Daniel. You have an odd way here of rewarding merit, that's certain; for you open your gates to a banditti, and throw your beſt friends, neck and heels into a dungeon!
Miſs Som. 'And is this your arch valet, that put us all in ſuch a fright?'
Julia. 'The very ſame; and as inoffenſive a creature as ever breath'd.'
Dau. 'What a rare thing my curioſity has prov'd to all except myſelf! It was rather hard, after eſcaping the caniſter-ſhot of theſe ladies tongues, to be ſtuck upon the battlements, to be pelted with double-round, and grape!'
All. 'Poor creature!'
Lady P. Where are you wounded, Daniel?
Dan. Not where its likely to disfigure me much, my lady—being as it were—in a place a little out of ſight!
Sidney. We'll find the means of a ſpeedy cure; but you don't ſeem to recollect your old friends, Dan?
[Page 79] Miſs Som. But here, Dalton, I owe more than I can expreſs. (points to Ner.)
Dalton. I am much her debtor alſo; for ſhe was the guiding ſtar, that led me, a diſconſolate wanderer, to this ſpot.
Miſs Som. 'Is that ſo, Nerinda?'
Ner. 'Nearly, Ma'am, and one time or other, perhaps you may do me as good a turn.'
Miſs Som. 'The day ſeems to have been devoted to ſtrange myſteries, and as the night is too far advanc'd to allow of your departure, I truſt the new poſſeſſor of this caſtle will allow me to give you welcome.'
Dalton. Moſt welcome all! for thus our lovely hoſteſs bids me ſay; and though we have no feats of chivalry to boaſt, we may, at leaſt, as goodnatured travellers, amuſe ourſelves with recounting our various adventures.
Sir Lein. But when you do that, you'll remember, if you pleaſe, to forget mine.
Lady P. Firſt accept my open recantation! for here do I renounce the vain parade, and follies of falſe grandeur, convinced, that the juſt diſtinctions of honourable rank, are beſt ſupported by their own intrinſic merit!
Sidney. Then am I raiſed to the enviable dignity of a happy man. Come, you young deſtined brides, ere you ſet out on your nuptial travels, will you deign to accept of a hint from one, who has gone this crooked road before you?
Julia. Certainly, Sir.
Miſs Som. Oh, with pleaſure!
Sidney. Then build not too much on converting a man into a huſband, unleſs you can condeſcend at the ſame time—to create that huſband your GUIDE thro' life!

3.8.1. FINALE.

[Page 80]
Now let us ſeek our native coaſt,
Where friends we hope will meet us;
As Travellers we then may boaſt,
If they but kindly greet us.
Let others travel worlds around
For pleaſure if they chooſe it;
The road to happineſs we've found,
And hope no more to loſe it.
Now let us ſeek, &c.
To follow cloſe your ſteps thro' life,
You know, dear Ma'am, I meant it;
So ſhou'd I follow as a wiſe,
I'm ſure I ſhan't repent it.
Now let us ſeek, &c.
Come, little Dan, 'twixt you and me,
Your trip may well content ye;
You've loſt your curioſity,
And that is gain in plenty.
Now let us ſeek, &c.
By travel I've regain'd a wife,
Tho' I was forc'd to ſnare her;
So, for the remnant of my life,
I hope to win, and wear her.
Now let us ſeek our native coaſt,
Where friends we hope will meet us;
As Travellers we then may boaſt,
If they but kindly greet us!
This AIR has been tranſpoſed to the laſt ſcene of the OPERA in the ſtage repreſentation.