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All's quiet yet. [Peeps at the door.] Eh! here he comes, and not without his errand. He has stormed the fort, and, now soldier-like, is retreating with his baggage.

Enter ARDOURLY, from the House, bearing ADOLPHINE. Ard. [Aside to King.] I've succeeded: she's mine. This way, sweet girl! this way. [Exit, R. T. King. Mum! he's carried her off safe enough. Somebody coming; I'll into my box. [Exit into the box.

Enter NAP, with a blunderbuss, L.

Nap. There; I've loaded it just enough to leave its mark behind; one mustn't go to kill nobody. Where's the key, that I may take my post in the garret and wait for this Mr. Townsend; he shall nap the contents of this, directly he knocks at the door, as sure as my name is Charley. I shall have plenty of time to cry the hour by-andby. [Unlocks the door, and enters Morbleu's house. T'. King. [From the box.] Hum! it's lucky I staid. "Beware of spring guns!" Egad! here's a customer for him. As I live, the old Frenchman; snug's the word: I smell mischief.


Mor. Diable! dat it should be all von hoax at last. Dat dam Monsieur Tonson is down at de bottom of all. I am so vex, dat I could almost shoot myself for de chagrin. I will get my bed. [Going to knock, draws back.] Stay, vere is Monsieur Nap? he may mistake, and shoot me for dis


7. King. Past twelve o'clock !

Mor. Oh! he is dere in his box; it is all comme il faut. [Knocks at the door.] Madame! Madame Bellegarde ! Nap. [Above.] Ay, ay, Master Townsend; you blackguard, take that; I'm guard here. [Fires at Morbleu.

Mor. Oh! by gar, I am murder! I am kill! Dat damn Monsieur Tonson!

Nap. Eh! zounds! what have I done? I've shot Mounseer Powder-blue! here's a business.

TOM KING, from the box.

T. King. Ha, ha, ha! It's high time for me to be off. [Pulls off Nap's coat, and exit, laughing, R. [Exit Morbleu, hastily, L. Nap and Madame Bellegarde, at the windows of the House, holding up their hands in astonishment.]

SCENE V.-A Room in the Elephant and Castle, New


Enter SNAP and Waiters, preparing the Room, R. The Two Waiters bring on a Table and Two Chairs, and exit, L.

Snap. Now, boys, bustle about, the coaches will be coming in soon: all stop at the Elephant and Castle, you know. Get the room ready for passengers.

Fip. [Without, L.] Waiter! Waiter!

Snap. This way, sar! this way! this is the parlour,
Enter FIP, L.

Fip. Has there been a French lady here, inquiring for Mr. Fip, or Mr. Assignat?

Snap. No, sar.

Fip. Then the Dover coach has not come in yet?

Snap. Not yet, sar.

Fip. I shall be in the way when it does.

Snap. Very well, sar.

[Exit, L.

Fip. Who the deuce is the French lady, my master, old Assignat, has sent me to meet ? Some nun, I think he says, coming from Calais; to take refuge in the convent at Hammersmith, I suppose. I'm to give her this letter, and take her to our chambers in Paper-buildings; de tout mon cœur. No lawyer's clerk in the kingdom is more au fait at anything of this kind than I am, or cuts a better figure, I flatter myself, on eighteen shillings a-week, than I do. Well, I'll go and look at the paper till the coach comes in. [Exit, R.

Enter SNAP, shewing in MORBLeu, L. Snap. This way, sar; this is the parlour, sar; plenty of coaches-Brighton, Dover, Hastings-anywhere you like to go to, sar.

Mor. Begar, I like to go anyvere, vere I no meet vit dat dam Monsieur Tonson. Oh! my pauvre back! I am all

pepper and fright.

Snap. As you've not made up your mind where you'd please to go, have you made up your mind what you'd please to take, sar?

Mor. Eh bien-ah! j'ai très grand faim. I shall take von pork schop.

Snap. Pork shop' don't think there's any to let about this neighbourhood, sar.

Mor. Nonsense! you make de grand mistake.
Snap. A steak? very well, sar.

Mor. Vell, a steak vill do very vell, sare! and vaiterSnap. Steak and water-have 'em directly, sar; one on the fire now. Cookey, dish up that steak, with a glass of water, for the foreign gentleman here. [Calling off, R. Enter FIP, R.

Fip. Well, waiter, coach come in yet, eh?

Snap. No, sar.

Fip. Hum! then I must amuse myself as well as I can till it does. Have you any books of any kind? any of the poets? We lawyers' clerks always patronize the poets; best judges in the world!

Snap. Our bar-maid has, I believe, sar: I'll get you one directly. [Exit R. Fip takes a chair, and sits in centre. Mor. Vat vil pauvre Madame Bellegarde do now I leave my shop? though she grande Marchioness, she must go to the vorkhouse, ma foi! and Mademoiselle Adolphine, pauvre enfant ? [Sits down at table, L. Enter SNAP, with steak and water, R.

Snap. Your steak, sar.

[To Morbleu. Mor. Très bon garçon-I am very faint, so I shall take a

Snap. Glass of water, sar.

[Putting it down. Mor. Vell, I may have vorse ting, so I shall make myself content vid dis.

Fip. Well, waiter, where's my book?
Mor. Now for von nice piece.

[Cutting the steak. Snap. Beg your pardon, sar, here it is.

Fip. Ha! what have we here? "The Seasons." My

old favourite, Thomson!

Mor. Vat! [Dropping his knife and fork.] Tonson!
Fip. Yes, Thomson; don't you admire him?

Mor. Monsieur Tonson here? Mon Dieu! den he is every where; at home, and abroad, and every place in de vorld beside. I have leave my maison for him: I have leave my shop, my boutique for him, and now he make me leave de country and my steak for him. Oh! Monsieur Touson! Monsieur Tonson! (Going, L.

Fip. Stay, sir, here is some mistake.

Snap. Pray, sar; you've forgot the steak.

Voice without. (L.) Dover coach! That way, ma'am, you'll find the gemman there.-[Morbleu, in attempting to


depart hastily, runs against Mrs. Thompson, who is entering at that moment, preceded by a Waiter, L.] Wait. A room for Mrs. Thompson here.

[Exit, R. Mor. Diable! Je vous demande mille pardons, madame; but dat dam Monsieur Tonson

Mrs. T. A countryman, and pronouncing the name of Thompson! Can you give me any information of Mr. Thompson, sir?

Mor. Eh, diable! Again!

Fip. My dear sir, I regret that the name of our immortal Thomson

Mor. Immortal, by gar! he is immortal, for dere never vill be not any end to him: he come at all seasons.

Fip. Yes; his Seasons are his noblest work. In spite of your dislike, sir, you must allow me to say, I think his death was a great loss to the country.

Mor. Dead! Vat is Monsieur Tonson dead?

Mrs. T. If it is of Mr. Thompson you are speaking, sir; I believe there is but too little doubt on that subject.

Fip. No doubt at all, ma'am ; I could convince you of it in a minute.

- Mor. Den I vill go back to my shop again. Ha, ha, ha! I am so glad. Bon jour, madame, bon jour, monsieur Monsieur Tonson dead! Ha, ha! lira la, lira la! [Sings.] Monsieur Tonson is dead! Monsieur Tonson is dead!

Monsieur Tonson is dead! he is very dead indeed!

[Exit, L. singing to the air of " Marlbrook." Mrs. T. Very strange, that the death of my husband should excite such joy in a countryman.

Fip. You come from Calais, I presume?

Mrs. T. I do, Sir.

Fip. This letter, then, will explain every thing.

Mrs. T. [Reading.]" Madame, agreeably to your instructions from Paris, through Monsieur Dupin, I have caused advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers, offer ing a reward for any information on the subject of your husband's death, hitherto without effect. Respecting the young lady, Miss Adolphine de Courcy, whom you inquire about, I have discovered that she lives at the house of a Monsieur Morbleu, a peruquier, in the Seven Dials, whither my clerk will wait to couduct you, as also to the residence of your humble servant, LOUIS ASSIGNAT.-Paper Buildings, Aug. 24, 96." Let me not lose a moment in clasping the dear child in my arms.

Fip. I'll conduct you thither instantly, madam. This way, this way; fine woman, 'pon my veracity. [Exeunt, L

SCENE VI.-Exterior of Morbleu's House.

Enter MORBLEU, singing, “ Monsieur Tonson is dead, &c." Mor. Ha, ha ha! I vill open my shop again. [Opens the shutters.] Madame, Madame Bellegarde ! [Knocks.

Enter MADAME BELLEGARDE, from House.

Embrassez, embrassez, madame, Monsieur Tonson is dead! Belle. Oh! mon Dieu! est-il possible, monsieur ?

Mor. (c.) Oui! oui! madame; it is all true enough, Monsieur Tonson is dead as de nail door, and vill never trouble us again. Ve shall live in great clover now, and sleep as quiet as the night long. So ve vill go in and have de littel drop of vite liqueur, dat dese Anglois call Geneva, and drink confusion to Monsieur Tonson. [Sings.]

"Monsieur Tonsou is dead."

Belle. If we had but Mademoiselle Adolphine here,


Mor. N'importe, n'importe; she shall not be lose; de bellman shall run after her very hard to-morrow. Come, madame. [Exeunt into the house, singing and dancing. Enter TOM King, L.

T. King. Ha! here's the scene of frequent mirth. My poor old Frenchman. I wonder if he's at home. Egad! I'll knock and see. [Knocks. MORBLEU and BELLEGARDE appear at the door, singing. Mor. Vell, sare; you vant to be shave?

T. King. Mounseer himself, as I live! Pray, sir; does one Mr. Thompson live here?

Mor. Got dam! Here Monsieur Tonson come again. I am paralize!

Belle. Oui, monsieur dead, and dis is his ghost!


Adol. My word is pledged; unravel the mystery of my birth, and that moment my hand is yours.

Ard. I swear it! You are my cousin these letters which you have shewn me, as the only relic of your father, are in the writing of my uncle; the initials, too, correspond: P. T.-Peregrine Thompson.

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