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Max (sits R. of table). That's a good soul !-he has his faults, and who has not? Forty years of age! Oh, monstrous!-but he does look uncommonly young for sixty, spite of his foreign locks and complexion.

Enter DAZZLE, R. 2 E.

Dazzle. Who's my friend, with the stick and gaiters, I wonder— one of the family-the governor maybe.

Max (R. C.). Who's this? (rises) Oh, Charles-is that you, my boy? How are you? (aside) This is the boy.

Dazzle. He knows me he is too respectable for a bailiff. (aloud) How are you?

Max. Your father has just left me.

Dazzle. (aside) The devil he has, he's been dead these ten years. Oh! I see, he thinks I'm young Courtly. (aloud) The honour you would confer on me, I must unwillingly disclaim,-I am not Mr. Courtly.

Max. I beg pardon-a friend, I suppose.

Dazzle. Oh, a most intimate friend-a friend of years-distantly related to the family-one of my ancestors married one of his. (aside) Adam and Eve.

Max. Are you on a visit here ?

Dazzle. Yes. Oh! yes. (aside) Rather a short one, I'm afraid. Max. (aside) This appears a dashing kind of fellow-ash e is a friend of Sir Harcourt's I'll invite him to the wedding. (aloud) Sir, if you are not otherwise engaged, I shall feel honoured by your company at my house-Oak Hall, Gloucestershire.

Dazzle. Your name is

Max. Harkaway-Mr. Harkaway.

Dazzle. Harkaway-let me see-I ought to be related to the Harkaways, somehow.

Max. A wedding is about to come off-will you take a part on the occasion ?

Dazzle. With pleasure;-any part but that of the husband.
Max. Have you any previous engagement ?

Dazzle. I was thinking-eh! Why, let me see. (aside) Promised to meet my tailor and his account to-morrow; however, I'll postpone that. (aloud) Have you good shooting?

Max. Shooting! Why there's no shooting at this time of the

year.

Dazzle. Oh! I'm in no hurry-I can wait till the season, of course. I was only speaking precautionally-you have good shooting?

Max. The best in the country.
Dazzle. Make yourself comfortable!

Say no more-I'm your

man-wait till you see how I'll murder your preserves.

Max. Do you hunt?

Dazzle. Pardon me

and expensive idea. Max. You ride?

-but will you repeat that? (aside) Delicious

Dazzle. Anything!-everything! From a blood to a broomstick. Only catch me a flash of lightning, and let me get on the back of it, and dam'me if I wouldn't astonish the elements.

Max. Ha! Ha!

Dazzle. I'd put a girdle round about the earth, in very considerably less than forty minutes.

Max. Ah! ah! We'll show old Fiddlestrings how to spend the day. He imagines that Nature, at the earnest request of Fashion, made summer days long for him to saunter in the Park, and winter nights, that he might have good time to get cleared out at hazard or at whist. Give me the yelping of a pack of hounds before the shuffling of a pack of cards. What state can match the chase in full cry, each vying with his fellow which shall be most happy? A thousand deaths fly by unheeded in that one hour's life of extasy. Time is outrun, and Nature seems to grudge our bliss in making the day so short.

Dazzle. No, for then rises up the idol of my great adoration.
Max. Who's that?

Dazzle. The bottle; that lends a lustre to the soul, when the world puts on its nightcap and extinguishes the sun-then comes the bottle. Oh, mighty wine! Don't ask me to apostrophise. Wine and love are the only two indescribable things in Nature; but I prefer the wine, because its consequences are not entailed, and are more easily got rid of.

Max. How so?

Dazzle. Love ends in matrimony, wine in soda water.

Max. Well, I can promise you as fine a bottle as ever was cracked.

Dazzle. Never mind the bottle, give me the wine. Say no more, but, when I arrive, just shake one of my hands, and put the key of the cellar into the other, and if I don't make myself intimately acquainted with its internal organisation—well, I say nothing, time will show.

Max. I foresee some happy days.

Dazzle. And I some glorious nights.

Max. It musn't be a flying visit.

Dazzle. I despise the word-I'll stop a month with you.

Max. Or a year or two.

Dazzle. I'll live and die with you.

Max. Ha ha! Remember, Max Harkaway, Oak Hall, Gloucestershire.

Dazzle. I'll remember-fare ye well. holloa!-Tallyho—0—0—0!

(MAX is going, R.) I say,

[Exit L. door.

Max. Yoicks!-Tallyho-0-0-0 ! Dazzle. There I am, quartered for a couple of years at the least. The old boy wants somebody to ride his horses, shoot his game, and keep a restraint on the morals of the parish: I'm eligible. What a lucky accident to meet young Courtly last night! Who could have thought it ?-yesterday, I could not make certain of a

dinner, except at my own proper peril; to-day, I would flirt with a banquet.

Enter CHARLES COURTLY, R. 2 E.

Courtly. What infernal row was that? Why (seeing DAZZLE), are you here still ?

Dazzle. Yes. Ain't you delighted? I'll ring and send the servant for my luggage.

Courtly. The devil you will! Why, you don't mean to say you seriously intend to take up a permanent residence here? (he rings bell.)

Dazzle. Now that's a most inhospitable insinuation.
Courtly. Might I ask your name?

Dazzle. With a deal of pleasure-Richard Dazzle, late of the Unattached Volunteers, vulgarly entitled the Dirty Buffs.

Enter MARTIN, L.

Courtly. Then, Mr. Richard Dazzle, I have the honour of wishing you a very good morning. Martin, show this gentleman the door.

Dazzle. If he does, I'll kick Martin out of it.-No offence. (Exit MARTIN, L.) Now, Sir, permit me to place a dioramic view of your conduct before you. After bringing you safely home this morning-after indulgently waiting whenever you took a passing fancy to a knocker or bell-pull-after conducting a retreat that would have reflected honour on Napoleon-you would kick me into the street, like a mangy cur; and that's what you call gratitude. Now, to show you how superior I am to petty malice, I give you an unlimited invitation to my house-my country houseto remain as long as you please.

Courtly. Your house!

Dazzle. Oak Hall, Gloucestershire-fine old place-for further particulars see Road Book; that is, it nominally belongs to my old friend and relation, Max Harkaway; but I'm privileged-capital old fellow-say, shall we be honoured ?

Courtly. Sir, permit me to hesitate a moment. (aside) Let me see-I go back to college to-morrow, so I shall not be missing; tradesmen begin to dun.

(A noise off L. between MARTIN and ISAACS; COOL has entered C., crosses, and goes off, L.) I hear thunder; here is shelter ready for me.

Re-enter COOL, L.

Cool. Oh, Mr. Charles, Mr. Solomon Isaacs is in the hall, and swears he will remain till he has arrested you !

Courtly. Does he !-sorry he is so obstinate-take him my compliments, and I will bet him five to one he will not.

Dazzle. Double or quits, with my kind regards.

Cool. But, Sir, he has discovered the house in Curzon Street; he

says, he is aware the furniture, at least, belongs to you, and he will put a man in immediately.

Courtly. That's awkward-what's to be done?

Dazzle. Ask him whether he couldn't make it a woman?
Courtly. I must trust that to fate.

Dazzle. I will give you my acceptance, if it will be of any use to you; it is of none to me.

Courtly. No, Sir; but in reply to your most generous and kind invitation, if you be in earnest, I shall feel delighted to accept it. Dazzle. Certainly.

Courtly. Then, off we go through the stables-down the mews, and so slip through my friend's fingers.

Dazzle. But, stay, you must do the polite; say farewell to him before you part. Hang it, don't cut him.

Courtly. You jest!

Dazzle. Here, lend me a card. (COURTLY gives him one) Now, then, (writes) "Our respects to Mr. Isaacs-sorry to have been prevented from seeing him."-Ha! ha!

Courtly. Ha! ha!

Dazzle. We'll send him up some game.

Courtly. Don't let my father see him.

[Exeunt R.

Cool. What's this ?" Mr. Charles Courtly, P.P.C., returns thanks for obliging inquiries."

NOTE.

[Exit L.

[Our reproduction of the First Act of " London Assurance" is by the special permission of Messrs. Samuel French & Son, 89, Strand, who must be communicated with, and a fee arranged for, whenever publicly represented, where money is charged for admission.]

SCENE FROM BROKEN HEARTS.
W. S. GILBERT.

[Mr. William Schwenck Gilbert has been for many years associated with theatrical fame. His first productions for the stage were pantomimes and burlesques, which attained various degrees of success. His first serious dramatic effort was a piece called "An Old Score:" but the play which placed him in the foremost rank of modern dramatists was the now world-famed "Palace of Truth." Latterly he has turned his attention to operatic libretti, written to the music of Sir Arthur Sullivan. Mr. Gilbert's "Bab Ballads are too well known to need comment.]

CHARACTERS:

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PRINCE FLORIAN. MOUSta.

Mous. I left him sleeping soundly in my hut,
He did not drink the wine-but still he sleeps.

(Producing veil.) I stole it from his pillow! Here's a prize!
Poor devil that I am-whose only hope

Of meeting other men on equal terms,
Lies in his chance of keeping out of sight!
Ha! someone comes. I'll hide thee carefully.

(Places it under a stone of dial.)

Some day, maybe, thou'lt do as much for me!

Enter FLORIAN, angrily.

Flor. So here you are: I've sought you everywhereMous. Ay, I am here. You're early from your bedWell, it's no bed for such fine folk as you;

I'm very sorry, but 'twas all I had.

Flor. The bed was well enough. I have been robbed.
Mous. Ay, ay? And how was that?
Flor.

[blocks in formation]

When people come and go invisibly

It's hard to say who is or is not here.

There is a thief

What has the villain robbed? a woman's heart?
Two women's hearts? How many women's hearts ?
If there's a thief here, it is you or I,

It comes to that. Now, what is it you've lost?
Flor. My Talisman.

Mous.

Your Talisman? Oh, ho!

Flor. I see no cause for jest.
Mous.

You don't! Observe

A prince, or someone who so styles himself,
With power to make himself invisible,
Employs that power to gain admission to
An isle where certain ladies dwell-when there
His Talisman is stolen and he stands
Revealed before their eyes, the helpless butt
Of all their ridicule, with nought to say
But "Ladies, pray forgive me I had thought
To enter unobserved-to wander here
And watch your movements, also unobserved;
And when grown weary of this novel sport
To take my leave of you-still unobserved
But as I've failed, so pray you pardon me."
And off he goes, his tail between his legs
Like a well-beaten hound!

Flor. (seizing him)

Misshapen imp,
Have you so little care for such dog-life
As warms your twisted carcase, that you dare
To bandy jests with me?

Mous.

Release me, sir!
Had I your Talisman, do you suppose
I should be here before your eyes? Oh, no-
Whoever has the veil is using it.

There were but six of us besides myself,
If one of these is missing, why, be sure
That one has taken it. I'll go and see.

Flor. The imp is right, and yet the Talisman
Was safe with me last night. *

*

[Exit MOUSTA.

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