Car. That were the way to ruin all. This marriage with the rich Sirillo he considers as the pinnacle of happiness for you. Besides, you know that he and Heimfeld's father have since long been deadly foes. Here nothing serves our turn but stratagem. I only wait a fit occasion to blow up my mine, and fate inust have no gallantry, or it must join with us. So. I have not seen till now, that fate has shown us any favour.

Car. Is the journey of this odious bridegroom nothing? I should think it might be useful, and be turned to good account.

So. O had I not been led by you, but told my uncle all at first.

Car. Be silent, child, and leave the thing to me. How I would wish to see your Heimfeld at this moment.

So. I have written him about Sirillo's journey, and my uncle's purpose to conclude the match at his re

turn.

Car. Well, certainly that news will drive him to us. We will lay our heads together and project some plan, and, as the aged Menelaus gives us elbow-room, the lovely shepherd shall obtain his Helen, and without seducing arts.

So. Dear aunt, you really have some hope then?

Car. O, the brightest one can have. So. I wrote to Heimfeld that I longed to see him, perhaps to say farewell for ever.

Car. Fy! Why lose your courage all at once? Suppose the worst, you still can say I will not, uncle; then whatever rage he feels, it will not last for ever. For a little you may act as you propose. Yes, say farewell to one another let deep sorrow fill your hearts-be sunk in sadness. Love looks prettiest after tears, as roses after rain. In love such things are worth the trying too.

So. O had I always your good humour, aunt!

Car. You must contrive to have it, child; bad humour makes things worse; good humour is a magnet that attracts our happiness. But silence now; your uncle's coming.

SCENE VI.

ALBERT, the former.

Al. He is gone then; down the streets he trotted in such glee, that

you.

Al. And let them laugh, if I but laugh the last. But see our niece is standing there so dismal-What's the matter with her?

Car. Don't you know? This absence is a load upon her.

Al. O cheer up, my child; in three short weeks your lover will be back; perhaps before.

Sc. Perhaps before?

Cur. Observe what joy the urchin feels. O love! O love!

So. Dear uncle, I must own — Car. Yes, yes, you love him with your heart. We know, we know. So. No, dear uncle, I declare I do not love him.

Car. O she's only joking.

Al. What! you do not love him! Well, he does not yet desire that of you, all he wants is your permission to love you. When you're his wife, your love to him will come of course. When people take a glass of wine, a flow of spirits follows after-that you see in me to-day.

So. I doubt.

Al. I doubt! how so? I doubt! So. The difference of years. Al. (mimicking her) The difference of years! Miss Doubtful,-Don't you see before you every day a difference of years, which loudly contradicts whatever silly speeches you may make.

Car. But then all husbands of your age are not so amiable and sensible as you, my dearest love.

Al. Yes, that is true,-and all the wives, who have your years, are not so wise and good as you, my Cary.

Car. That is also true, my love. Al. But now, Miss niece of mine, whence come these scruples all at

once? Why not one word of them till now?.

Car. O don't be hard upon her these are maggots, humours, fancies. Well, you know us women-Shan't we rather walk a little in the garden? Yesterday I heard you mention something of a rosebush-plot you meant to form, but did not tell us where--I'm curious to see the spot.

Al. Come then, I'll take you to it -I know you will approve. How charming it will be, when we two sit in it, and all the roses round about us! Sometimes I'll look at them, sometimes at you. We'll see the roses nod to us, and we will nod to them-then all at once the world will fly about just like a top, and we at last will wheel along with it, and but come along, my Cary-we shall see the gardener already hard at work. (he gives her his arm. Exeunt.)

SCENE VII.

SOPHIA, Soon after HEIMFELD. So. She never lets me speak when I would fain prepare my uncle. He was now in such good humour, and, I think, I would have had the courage to discover all to him. The straight-on road is ever found the best, and certainly our love may walk in it. (HEIMFELD enters as she is about to go.) For Heaven's sake what are you about? How come you here?

Heim. Last night I got your letter, and I could not rest or stay a moment-I was forced along, and now I wish to hear you say a thing I could not credit, though you wrote it.

So. Heavens ! how have you frightened me! If they should catch us here!

Heim. Is my arrival inconvenient for you?

So. At this moment unexpectedthough with heart and soul I have been longing for you.

Heim. Only to get quit of me the

Heim. Most dreadful. So you wish to marry that Sirillo? So. No.

Heim. No? No? No? O repeat to ine that no. It brings new life into my breast.

So. If it gives my Heimfeld pleasure, as often as you will.

Heim. And yet, my dear Sophia, you could write of endless separation? So. When I wrote, two days ago, I was so stunned! My uncle just had told me of Sirillo's suit, and added he had given his promise.

Heim. Why not tell him your aversion? What could make you silent?

So. Ah! I scarcely knew, that moment, I could speak,-he dwelt with so much confidence upon my future happiness, was so delighted at it, it was quite impossible to contradict him.

--

Heim. But you surely will declare yourself?

So. My aunt won't have it so. She thinks that artifice alone can help us out. But now you must retire. You can't stay longer here at present. So retire, dear Heimfeld. In the evening I'll see you in the garden, and will tell you more. My uncle might surprise us.

Heim. Scarcely have I found you, after I had thought you lost for ever; and I meant to be so very happy

So. No, no; you must away, you must. All would be ruined, if my uncle met you here. Heim. I shall obey. dear Sophia. than I came.

Farewell, my Happier I leave you

So. Until we meet again, adieu. (She accompanies him to the door, but he has scarcely gone out, when he comes in again.)

Heim. Some one is coming up the stairs; I think 'tis Mr Albert.

So. Heavens! he must not see you. Where shall I put you? Come here quickly, step into that bed-room; 'tis my aunt's, and lock the door within. I'll go and fetch her. (Heimfeld goes into the closet; Sophia exit by the other door.)

SCENE VIII.

SIRILLO disguised, looking in. So? All empty? No one here? hem ! hem! I saw, however, a young man come out, and on perceiving I was on the stair, away he was like lightning. I thought I heard some talking too. (looks into every corner.) Ay, ay, who can be playing here at hide and seek? (lifts up the cloths by which the tables are hung, and looks below.) A youth unwilling to be seen-----heard talking here with somebody, and in a moment after neither he, nor yet that somebody, within the room. That looks strange, and from his years, it is not only strange, but raises one's suspicion. Should my fair Sophia even-? No, that's impossible; she looks so very innocent, and such a thing had reached my ears. In such a little town as this, a girl can't even look kind upon her brother's dog, but all comes out. Or Albert's wife, perhaps? hem! hem! It looks, indeed, as if she loved her husband, but, put trust in none of them. She's best who is not tempted. I shall have conviction soon. O blessed genius of wine, that didst inspire me with the thought of this disguise! I'll daily drink a bottle more to do thee honour. My disguise is such, I'm sure they will not know me. What if I should have a bout at hide and seek myself? These tables seem to offer me their service: Yes, thou hospitable table, let me be thy inmate, nor betray what thou hast in thy keeping. (creeps below one of the tables.) Heaven bless my entrance. (after a short pause puts out his head.) Umph! it is not very comfortable here. I think I hee a foot, down, Sirillo, down. (dra es in his head.)

SCENE IX.

CAROLINE, HEIMFELD, SIRILLO. Car. (knocks at the bed-room door.) Come, Heimfeld, Heimfeld, open, Í am here. (Heimfeld enters.)

Si. (putting out his head aside.) 'Tis Albert's wife as I'm alive. I give you joy, friend Albert, give you joy!

Car. I come but for a moment, Sir, to bid you welcome. Much I have been longing for you. Now's the time to act, and you yourself can't wish more ardently your love be crowned than I do.

Heim. How can I express my gratitude for all your goodness!

Si. Just as I supposed.

Car. I am now wholly yours; your constancy, your ardour, have convinced me, that you really love and merit a return. I'll make you happy, do or say my husband what he will. S. (aside) Bravo!

Heim. That assurance makes me happy.

Car. Probably my husband will go out this evening, and as that provoking spy Sirillo is not here, we shall not be disturbed. I have a world of things to say.

Si. (aside) Yes, I believe you have. Car. As things are situated, stratagem alone can lead us to our purpose. I have also formed a plan of our manœuvres.

Si. (aside.) How?

Heim. Implicitly I yield to you ; but would it not perhaps be better, went we openly to work? Si. (aside.) What!

Car. No, no, that will never do; let me direct. I leave you for the present,

pray step back into my bed-room,nobody goes there. I would be glad to take you out of prison, but my husband is below. But, wait a little. I'll first hear if he is not gone out. (they go to the door.)

Si. (aside.) My worthy Albert! yon poor devil! how I pity you! I verily believe your wife will run 'away with this young spark.

Car. I hear him speaking still; do you go back into the closet. Soon, perhaps, I shall be able to release you.

Heim. Do not let me wait too long. (kisses her hand before she goes. Sirillo draws in his head. As Heimfeld wants to re-enter the bed-room, he finds it locked.) Oh! how unlucky, by some chance the door is locked. What now is to be done? (he tries the door again.) 'Tis locked, fast locked. (runs to the door, puts out his head to listen, returns and looks about the room, at last goes to the table where Sirillo is not, and creeps below it.)

Si. (After a pause puts out his head.) Is he gone? I think I hear a noise. (creeps back.)

Heim. (After a pause, looking out.) There's no one in the room, I think. No one; I must have been mistaken. (draws in his head.)

Si. What is that? I thought for certain somebody was speaking here.

The spark within that room is holding a soliloquy perhaps for his amusement. (draws in his head.)

Heim. (A moment after looking out.) No, I cannot be mistaken, I heard it too distinctly. (looks about him, listens a little while, and then draws in again.) Si. Again! (lifts up the cloth on one side, then on another all round the table, and looks about him. After he has drawn in his head, Heimfeld looks out, and then again Sirillo. These movements are repeated several times, and always at shorter intervals. At last they both put out their heads at once, and after staring at each other for a moment.)

Heim. Who are you, Sir? Si. Who are you, Sir? Heim. What may you be doing there below the table?

Si. What may you be doing there below the table?

Heim. (creeping out.) Do you know, Sir, it is very odd to come into a stranger's house, and lie concealed below a table, listening to what is said?

Si. (coming out.) And do you know yourself that it is still more odd to say ought here that may be listened to?

Heim. How so, good Sir?

Si. I am an old acquaintance in this house, a friend and guest; but you, Sir, who are you?

Heim. I---I belong to it as well as

you.

Si. (laughing,) You're right, I did not think of that. Within a household well arranged, a helpmate such as you must not be wanting now-adays. However, Mr Albert might have his objections to the office you assume. Heim. What do you mean by that? Explain yourself.

Si. Young friend, be meek and humble; violence is here misplaced. Do not forget that I was lying here below the table, and of course have heard your conversation with his lady. Heim. (aside.) Should we have betrayed ourselves?

Ši. And so I know the whole. Heim. What do you know? Si. I know the fine intrigue that you have here, I know the whole, the whole. And so, without delay, confess the naked truth; be humble and submissive, Sir, for I could play you here an ugly trick.

Heim. (aside.) Good heaven! we have betrayed ourselves. (aloud.) Well, if you know the whole, Sir, you must

know, the purest, the most ardent love has brought me to this house. Si. (laughing.) The purest love! yes, yes.

Heim. A love which obstacles have but increased---a love beyond the power of time---which would not need to shun the eyes of men, did not untoward eircumstances force it to make use of mystery.

Si. Untoward circumstances! (aside.) Yes, yes, they are untoward for poor Albert.

Heim. You appear to me a man of too much sense, and in your face is clearly seen a mind too noble and too great for me to fear that you should make improper use of what you know.

Si. We shall consider and revolve what use is to be made of it. I own that when the devil lays an egg, like this, within a house, it is not any other's part to cackle, but yet, young gentleman, I can't in silence see that you snap up another's property.

Heim. Another's property! What right can any other have to call that noble creature property of his? Here love alone gives property, and I have made the acquisition.

Si. Well, but I think, however, with your leave-(aside) he has the strangest principles.

Heim. And if, besides, that other is a person, all whose merit (mimicks the counting of money) but consists in counting o'er his heaps-a foolold coxcomb.

Si. (aside) If he heard.

Heim. How would this raddish dare say to the rose, you're mine?

Si. Ha, ha, ha, a raddish!

Heim. I'm convinced that Mr Albert, on reflection, will be sensible of this himself.

Si. (laughing) The deuce he will! Young gentleman, your faith is strong. But I would not advise you to expect it.

Heim. Pray, why not? He musthe cannot fail to see it-and if notwell then

Si. Well then, what then? You'll even run off with her, perhaps? Consider what you do, young man, consider.

Heim. I am just considering that this is not my place, and think it more advisable to take my leave.

Si. Pray listen for a moment, Sir, you have not had the goodness yet to tell me who you are.

Si. (alone) Sir, your servant. Well, then, there's a fine surprise: for certain Albert will not match it. But the thing's too sad and serious to make a joke of. I, however, can't be altogether mute. I must give him a hint, if merely to bring down his haughtiness, and make him soberminded on that head. How oft has he derided other honest men who had the same mishap, and now-but so it goes; yes, so it goes; one sees his neighbour taken in and laughs, (he laughs,) and does not dream that he himself is taken in. But now I'll go and introduce myself.

[Exit laughing.

SCENE XI.

SOPHIA (hastens in by another door, and opens the bed-room.) CAROLINE (enters.)

So. (from the bed-room.) Dear aunt, my Heimfeld is not here.

Car. So much the better, child, I wanted just to let him out; and as Sirillo's brother is arrived, our consultation can't take place to-night. So. I only hope my uncle did not find him here.

Car. O no; for then we should have had a thunder-storm. The poor young man began to weary, and went off: or he perhaps was hungry; for alas! my child, those happy times are past, when lovers did not need to eat. A lover now is not all heart; he feels he has a stomach also.

So. Have you seen Sirillo's brother? Car. Yes, they're very like-I must confess, however, I prefer the brother. There they come.

SCENE XII.

ALBERT, SIRILLO, the former. Al. O here's our niece. Allow, my

worthy friend, that I present to you your brother's bride.

Si. So that is she? By heaven! he chooses well. I beg you'll let me kiss the pretty hand that is to make my brother happy.

Car. (aside to Sophia.) Sophy, thank him for the compliment.

Al. What are you saying, Cary? Car. I was asking if she did not find the likeness to Sirillo very striking?

Si. That is true: We are so like, the one is often taken for the other. Car. If you only did not wear your hair.

So. The eyes, dear aunt, are also different.

Car. You're right; I now begin to find it so. Methinks the nose too

Car. Yes, the nose is quite another

nose.

Si. Excuse me, I should think it were the same.

Car. I beg your pardon, Sir, your's has a different cut.

So. 'Tis not so long.

Si. So? When I have the honour to be better known to you, I hope that you will find still greater difference in our characters. My brother is a headstrong man-will always know things best-(he looks at them all-all are silent) a little vain, conceited, purse-proud man-he thinks himself much wiser than his neighbours, (looks at them again) boisterous, severe, and often even malicious. (a pause) It looks as if you thought me in the right.

Al. O no, but yet

Si. Confess it only-Don't I say the truth?

Car. Show mercy; every body has his foibles.

Al. Had he none, he would not be