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Bob. He sent down his compliments, that he was gove Florence.

Lit. The paltry-here's a fellow, now, who used to wallow my dinners and jokes in sunny times, to take -way at the first post.

Bob. Yes, sir, swallows always were summer birds.
Lit. No impertinence!
[A double knock, L.
Bob. [Chopfallen.] Are you at home, sir?

Lit. Yes. [Exit Bob, L.] Home! mine is a sarcasm on

the word.

Re-enter BOB, L.

Bob. Lord Charles Roebuck, sir. [Bob retires up, L.

Enter LORD CHARLES ROEBUCK, L. and crosses to c. Lit. Charles, my dear fellow. [Shaking his hand. Roe. The same as ever-I can almost believe myself at college again-and Bob, too—

Bob. Yes, my lord, promoted from gyp to lawyer's

clerk.

Roe. It seems but a month ago since I roasted you for courting my bed-maker-do you remember?

Bob. Remember! your lordship tied me along a form before the fire, went out, and forgot me.

Poe. You found that night's roasting a cure for love, eh? Well, I'll remember you this time: there is a plaster for your [Gives him a note,] sore memory--vanish! Bob. Never mind, you may want me again if you like. [Looks at money-exit, L. Lit. Why, your long residence in Paris has transmuted you from a model for young England, into the type of jeune France. Some time since we parted at Alma Ma

ter.

Roe. Three years; I started immediately for Paris, where my brother was ambassador plenipotentiary; my father wished me to graduate in diplomacy under his able surveillance.

Lit. And your respected sire, the Home Secretary?
Roe. I have not seen the Earl since my return.

Lit. How?

Roe No! to be candid with you, I'm in a scrape, so I naturally hastened to you.

Lit. I have, at your service, a stock of advice, generously subscribed by my friends when I revealed to them the bottom of my purse-proceed.

Roe. The most ancient of maladies.

Lit. Oh, love?

Roc. To distraction.

Lit. How? vulgarly, with a woman-or fashionably, with yourself?

Roe. Listen and judge. Ten days ago, as, in obedience to my father's mandate, I was on my route from Parismy chariot was arrested on the Dover Road, by a spill illustrated with oaths and screams.

Lit. Heroics-by Jove!

Roe. Post-boy whipping-horses kicking-old gentlemen cursing-young lady screaming and fainting alternately.

Lit. Lucky dog!

Roc. I disengaged the senseless fair, threw off her bonnet, and unveiled a face-oh, Coke, such a face! she gasped for breath.

Lit. You lent her some of yours?

Roe. I did--but she relapsed again.

Lit. Naturally-so you kept her alive by repeated application?

Roe. 'Till her father came up.

Lit. She recovered, then?

Roc. Immediately-he thanked me, tucked my angel under his arm, they re-entered the righted vehicle, and drove on.

Lit. Is that all?

Roe. Forbid it, Venus-no-with incredible trouble I traced them. The father-the dragon who guards this Hesperian fruit, is an old East-Indian Colonel, as proud as Lucifer, and as hot as his dominions-I hovered round the house for a week.

Lit. Successfully?

Roe. I saw her once for a second at the back garden gate.

Lit. To speak to her?

Roe. I hadn't time.

Lit. No?-Oh!

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Lit. Excellent economy! and her name

Roe. Is Rocket-her father, an eccentric old bully, rns his house into a barrack-mounts guard at the hallDor-the poor girl can't move without a sentry, and I elieve her lady's maid is an old one-eyed corporal of ar llery.

Lit. Is she rich?

Roe. She is fair.

Lat. Possibly a thing to be admired in a danseuse or a riend's wife; but in the matrimonial stocks, done on our Western 'change, the fairest hue we recognise is yellow Roc. Does virtue go for nothing?

Lit. Oh! no; character is indispensable to servant maids, but virtue, as a word, is obsolete; we have, indeed, French one like it, vertu, yes-ladies of certu might sigify articles of rarity.

Roe. Does the lexicon of fashion, then, abjure the sense?

Lit. Certainly not; virtue significs the strength in a bottle of salts.

Roe. And vice!

Lit. A-a fault in horses.

Koe. And religion?

Lit. A pew in a fashionable church!

Roe. So 'twould appear that beauty is invested in bank stock; grace consolidated with the landed interests; while reputation fluctuates with the three and a half per

cents.

Lit. Exactly; gold is the Medean bath of youth, possessing also a magnetic attraction for every cardinal virtue, while all the plagues of Egypt are shut up in one English word, and that is poverty; the exhibition of which, like that of the Gorgon's head, turns the hearts of your dearest friends to stone.

Roe. Can May Fair legislation so repeal the laws of nature by Jove! the West end at last will cut the sun because it rises in the east, and live by wax light!

Lit. You, perhaps, may never see the world as I do, Charles, because I am poor; but a rich man's view of life is bounded by his parasites-he feels but through hi glove, and thinks all things are soft.

Roe. Then I am lost, for my angel is pennyless.

Lit. Right, angels are the only things who can be poor and lovely; but to marry thus before you have given the worshipful company of mamma brokers a chance, is against all rule.

Roc. Would you have me marry a thing whose mind is bounded by her bonnet, a soul perfumed with foreign sentiment as guiltless of old English virtues as her tongue is of their native names. No! I'll have a heart that beats with blood- -a cheek that's red with it-and be no slave of such a thing of scent and paint-but strike one blow for love and human nature.

Lit. Oh, you luxurious dog! [Shaking his hand.] Oh -h! if I could only afford to marry a woman instead of a banker's account-but what obstacles oppose your epicurean intentions towards Miss Rocket?

Roe. I hear my father intends for me the double honour of a seat in the house, and a wife—my cousin, Alice, the wealthy young widow of Lord George Hawthorn.

Lit. Lady Alice-who shook the very apathy of the opera last week, by demanding to be balloted into the omnibus box!

Roe. Such a wife-why do they not give her a commission in the blues, at once?

Lit. She flashed into our fashionable system like a new comet, whose eccentricity defied all known law, and quickly drew after her a train that obliterated all the constellations of St. James's, and the heavenly bodies of May fair.

Roe. You know her, then?

Lit. A Polka acquaintanceship! I've been introduced to her waist; we know each other in the house of our mutual friends-but of what use can I be here?

Roe. The greatest. My father has arranged my nomination for Closeborough, I shall be obliged to advocate his political principles in the house, to which party old Rocket is a virulent opponent.

Lit. What's to be done?

Koe. Oppose my father-and thus-oblige me by opposing my election, and I will answer for your success. "Lit. Ha ha! help me to your borough-why, you "rascal, would you make the Home Secretary purchase in a talented member for the opposition?

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"Roe. Consent."

Lit. With all my heart; I see but one obstacle--the alification!

Roe. The three hundred a-year-that's true-stayoke, at Eton, you were considered a fellow of great uck.

Lit. You flatter.

Roe. You look tenacious of life.

Lit. Ha!

Roe. I'll make you a present of the widow.

Lit. Lady Alice?

Roe. If she have not, ere this, volunteered to Morocco r Macao.

Lit. Charles, to oblige you I accept the borough-for our sake I'll encounter the widow and the five thousand --year.

BOB rushes in, L.

Bob. Sir-sir-they are come—

Lit. They-who?

Bob. Two of the fattest clients, sir, you ever saw.
Lit. Clients-you are mad, or a fool.

Bob. Neither, sir-but I think they are both.

Lit. Stay-come here. Bob-Bob crosses to Littleton,] what are they like?

Bob. One, sir, is a very respectable old gentleman in black, white hair

Lit. Scriven, the attorney and money lender. The other?

Bob. A responsible--sort of-sporting character.
Lit. Craft, the bailiff-I'm ruined!

Roe. What's the debt? perhaps I—

[Crosses to L

Lit. No, Charles-to be honest with you-my hopes are too slender to bear an obligation. I'm as low in pride, now, as I am in pocket, and cannot afford to turn a friend into a creditor.

Bob. They are just on this landing, sir.

Roe. Come with me. I can offer you a room at iny father's 'till your election is over.

Bob. Step inside, sir; while they come in, you can go out by the other door.

Lit. Farewell, fond visions of the woolsack: Bob, give up any chattels, let them take possession.

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