Edw. No, my lord, no bar-maid, I assure you. Her uncle keeps the tavern.

Roch. [With mock gravity.] Oh, then she is heiress apparent to the tap-room, and you no doubt look forward to rise in the state through the dignities of drawer, tapster, and head-waiter, until you succeed to the fair hand of the niece, and the copper nose of the uncle, and rule with spigot in hand over the fair realms of Wapping. You, who I flattered myself would have made the torment and delight of all the pretty women at court, you to be so completely gulled at the very outset, the dupe of a green girl, and some old rogue of a publican !

Edn. Indeed, indeed, my lord, you do the uncle injustice. He is a perfectly honest, upright man-au old captain of a cruiser.

Roch. Worse and worse! Some old buccaneer, tired of playing the part of a monster at sea, has turned shark on shore. And do you dare to appear in such a house with the dress of a royal page?

Edw. Oh! I have taken care to avoid that. I have introduced myself into the house as a music-master. Roch. And your musical name, gentle sir?

Edw. Georgini, at your service.

Roch. Ha! ha! ha! very soft and Italianish-I'll warrant this heroine bar-maid will turn out some unknown princess, carried off by the old buccaneer landford, in one of his cruisings.

Edw. Your lordship is joking; but, really, at times, I think she is not what she seems.

Roch. Ha! ha! ha! I could have sworn it. But silence -I hear his majesty dismount. Run to where your duty calls-we'll take another opportunity to discuss the merits of this Wapping Princess.

Edw. [Goes out muttering.] There's many a true thing said in jest. I am certain her birth is above her condition. [Exit, L. D.

Roch. I must see this paragon of bar-maids-She must be devilish pretty! The case admits of no delay -I'll see her this very evening. Hold! Why not fulfil my promise to Lady Clara at the same time? [Beefeaters appear at door, c.] It is decided :-I'll give his majesty my first lesson in morals this very night. But, he comes

Enter CHARLES, door in c.

Chas. Good day, my lord?-What, musing! I never see thee with that air of grave cogitation, but I am -sure there is some mischief devising.

Roch. On the contrary, I am vehemently tempted to reform.

Chas. Reform! ha! ha! ha! why, man, no one will credit thy conversion! Is not thy name a by-word? Do not mothers frighten their daughters with it, as formerly with that of Belzebub? Is not thy appearance in a neighbourhood a signal for all the worthy burghers to bar their windows and put their womankind under lock and key? Art thou not, in melancholy truth, the most notorious scapegrace in the kingdom? Roch. Heaven forefend that in any thing I should take precedence of your majesty.

Chas. But what proof do you give of your conversion?

Roch. The most solemn-I am going to be married.
Chas. Married! And who, pray, is the lady you

have an idea of rendering miserable?

Roch. The lady Clara,

Chas. The lady Clara! The brilliant, the discreet, the virtuous lady Clara! She marry Rochester! ha!

ha! ha!

Roch. Ah, my liege, heaven has given her a superabundance of virtues-She will be able to make a very virtuous man of me with her superfluity.

Chas. Well, when thou art married, I will undertake to write thy epithalamium.

Roch. Then your majesty may at once invoke the Muses. All is settled. [With great gravity] As soon as the rites are solemnized, I shall quit the court, and its mundane pleasures, and retire with my lovely bride to my castle at Rochester, under permission of my creditors, the faithful garrison of that fortress.

Chas. What! is your castle again in pledge?

Roch, No, my liege, not again. It has never, to my knowledge, been exactly out of keeping. A castle requires a custodian.

Chas. Ah, Rochester! Rochester! Thou art an extravagant dog. I see I shall be called on to pay these usurers at last.

Roch. Your majesty is ever bounteous. I should not have dared to solicit, and certainly shall not presume to decline.

Chas. Ha ha! Thou art an arrant juggler. But, to business,-where shall we pass the night?

Roch. [Assuming a serious air.] I must beg your majesty to excuse me this evening-I have an engagement of a grave and important nature.

Chas. Grave and important! Thou liest, Rocnester, and whither does this grave engagement take thee? Roch. To the tavern of the Grand Admiral in Wapping!

Chas. I thought it was some such haunt. And the object of this business?

Roch. A young girl, beautiful as an angel, and virtuous as a dragon-about whom there hangs a mystery that I must investigate.

Chas. A mysterious beauty! It is a case for royal scrutiny-I will investigate it myself.

Roch. But, my liege

Chas. No buts. Provide disguises. We will go together. [With mock gravity] I like to study human nature in all its varieties. There's something of philosophy in this-one often gets a useful lesson in the course of a frolic.

Roch. [Aside.] It shall go hard but your majesty shall have one to-night. [Aloud] Ah, how few, except myself, give your majesty credit for your philosophy! And yet, by many, I am considered the partaker of your majesty's excesses; and should any disagreeable adventure be the result.

Chas. Psha! I take the consequences on myself. Provide two seamen's dresses, a purse of gold well filled, and arrange every thing for nine precisely. Till then, farewell. [Exit, L. D.

Roch. I will attend your majesty. So! the plot is in train. This night the lesson. To-morrow my disgrace. Within eight days my marriage, and then, at my leisure, to repent and to reform. [Exit, L. D.

SCENE II.-Outside of Copp's Tavern, the Grand Admiral.-A view of the Thames and Wapping.

Enter MARY from the House, L. in the flat. [Voices within.] Wine! wine! house!-waiter!more wine, ho! Huzza! huzza! huzza!

Mary. What a noise those sailors make in the bar room nothing but singing, and laughing, and shouting. I should like to take a peep at them-but no-my uncle

forbids me to show myself in the public rooms: he scarcely lets me be seen by the guests-he brings me up more like a young lady than the niece of a tavern keeper[Walks about restless.] Heigho! what a tiresome long day! what shall I do with myself? what can be the matter with me? I wonder what can keep Mr. Georgin away? For three days he has not been here to give me a lesson-no matter [Peevishly]-I don't care-I shall forget all my singing, that's certain: he was just teaching me such a pretty song too-all about love. I'll try it-[Attempts to sing]-no, I can't-it's all out of my head - well, so much the better! I suppose he is teaching it to some fine lady scholar-let him, I don't careI don't believe he'll find her so apt a scholar.

SONG.

Oh! not when other eyes may read
My heart upon my cheek,

Oh! not when other ears can hear

Dare I of love to speak

But when the stars rise from the sea,
Oh then I think of thee, dear love!

Oh then I think of thee.

When o'er the olives of the dell
The silent moonlight falls,
And when upon the rose, the dew
Hangs scented coronals,

And buds close on the chesnut tree,

Oh then I think of thee, dear love!

Oh then I think of thee.

Enter COPP from the house-door in flat.

Copp. What, Mary, my little blossom, what cheer? what cheer? Keep close, my little heart-why do you stir out of port? Here be cruisers abroad.

Mary. Who are those people, uncle, that make such a noise?

Copp. Two hearty blades-mad roysters-oons how they drink. I was obliged to part company, old cruiser as I am, or they would soon have had me on my beam ends.

Mary. Are they sailors, uncle?

Copp. To be sure they are: who else would fling about money as they do, and treat a whole bar-room?

The tallest in particular is a very devil. Hollo, Captain Copp, cries he every minute, another bottle to treat my brother tars.

Mary. By their swaggering about so, they must be very rich.

Copp. Pho, child, 'tisn't the deepest laden ships that make the most rolling.

Mary. But they spend their money so freely.

Copp. A sure sign that it's running out. The longest cable must come to an end. He that pays out fastest, will soonest be brought up with a round turn.

Mary. To what ship do they belong?

Copp. That's more than I can say. Suppose they're a couple of man of war's men just paid off, who think they've a Spanish mine in each pocket-[Shout of laughter from L. in flat door within.] Ah, the jolly tars! I was just the same at their age.

Mary. I should like to have a look at them.

[Going up.

Copp. Avast there-what, trust thee in the way of two such rovers? No, no, I recollect too well what it was to get on shore after a long voyage. The first glimpse of a petticoat-whew! up boarding pikes and grappling irons ?-[Recollecting himself.] A hem-no, no, child, mustn't venture in these latitudes.

Mary. Ah, my good uncle, you are always so careful of me.

Copp. And why not? What else have I in the whole world to care for, or to care for me? Thou art all that's left to me out of the family fleet-a poor slight little pinnace. I've seen the rest, one after another, go down ; it shall go hard but I'll convoy thee safe into port.

Mary. I fear I give you a great deal of trouble, my dear uncle.

Copp. Thou'rt the very best lass in the whole kingdom, and I love thee as I loved thy father, my poor brother Philip; that's because you're his very image. To be sure, you haven't his jolly nose, and your little mouth is but a fool to his. But then, there are his eyes, and his smile, and the good-humoured cut of his face[Sighing]-poor Philip! What !-[ Wiping his eyes.] Psha! let's change the subject, because, d'ye see, sensibility and all that gammon, it does me no good-none -so let's talk of something else. What makes thee so silent of late, my girl? I've not heard a song from thee these three days!