His reason is most clear-will in some sort (We learn it on the skirts here of this mountain,) Sadi. Well, such a man have I seen; such a man, in pure kindness, has conducted us hither; and such a man is now within, in the hut here. Flor. Here!—Mercy, Heaven! Roque. [Apart to Floranthe.] Nay, nay; bear up, lady. Our labour now will soon have an end; all will be well, I warrant. [To Sadi.] Lead us in, my good fellow. Sadi. [Aside.] Good fellow!-This is one of your weathercock knaves, now, that points always as the wind veers. A sudden puff of my information has blown him round to civility. [To Roque.] In, and we'll follow you; we must wait awhile, however, in the outward nook of the hovel; for to thrust ourselves suddenly into the presence of so moody a gentleman, might haply offend his dignity. [Exeunt Roque and Floranthe, c. D. F.] Come, Agnes. Agnes. Have with you, Sadi. Sadi. Nay, I would not budge an inch without you, sweet. I say, Agnes, this snug little cabin of the goatherd's, with good cheer and excellent Malaga, is better than trudging over the mountains with tired legs and empty stomachs. DUET.-SADI and AGNES. Faint and wearily, the way-worn traveller Wand'ring, drearily, a sad unraveller Of the mazes tew'rd the mountain's top. While his course he's steering; Cottages appearing - When he's nigh to drop: Oh! how briskly then the way-worn traveller Though so melancholy day has passed by, At past labour laughing; Oh! how merry then the rested traveller Seems, while sitting at the goatherd's door! [Exeunt, L• SCENE III.-The Inside of a Goatherd's Cottage. Enter OCTAVIAN and a GOATHerd, r. s. e. Goat. Neither food nor repose!-Well, 'tis strange!-Will nothing persuade you to take refreshment, gentle sir! Oct. Nothing that thou canst say. Why, thou art old; And 'tis the trick of age to proffer gifts, Merely to tease the wretch that would accept them. Oct. Hark ye; ere now, there came a hoary cheat, Goat. Mass! 'twas a sorry method of regaling! Were I given to revelry, I would look for liquor of another brewage. Oct. Thou'dst look for anything to swell thy store, He'd trample o'er them all to catch at it. Goat. I have but one-one only daughter; and, alas! she has gone I know not whither. Pedro had had my consent to woo her, had he not been altogether poor; and now she has strayed away in despair, because I would not see her wed unhappily. Oct. Why, 'twas well done!-'Twas justice on thy ava rice, To doom thyself to living purgatory, And fix within thy breast the gnawing thought Of this world's traffic! When the drover comes, There is no guilt in vice's catalogue Can plunge thee deeper! [A knocking without, L. Goat. I will, sir; but I am not as you would picture me, for all your saying. I have not lived forty years on the credit of my cattle, to offer rotten rams for sale at this time of day, and pass them current. I shall to the door, sir. [Exit, L. Oct. [Pulling a miniature from his bosom.] Out, bauble! Let me kiss thee !-Sweet Floranthe! When the cold limner drew thy semblance here, That virgin nature threw into thy face, As the dull cold unmoved did stare upon thee, Those times are past, Floranthe; yet 'tis comfort Enter ROQUE, l. Roque. [Aside.] Now know not I how to accost him. Poor gentleman! times are sadly changed with him since I saw him, fresh and well caparisoned, gazing on my young lady, in my old master's mansion at Seville ! [Aloud.] Signior, do you not remember my countenance? Oct. No; Providence has slubbered it in haste; 'Tis one of her unmeaning compositions She manufactures when she makes a gross. Then send them forth ashamed of her own work, Roque. Get me gone! Ah, signior! the time has been when you would question old Roque kindly after his health, as he lifted up the latch to give you admittance to poor Donna Floranthe! Oct. Thou hast shot lightning through me I thought not even the magic of thy name Could make a heart, so long benumbed with misery, Roque. [Aside. An' this hold, I shall blubber outright, like a female baby. I must muster my own resolution, that I may rally his. [Aloud.] Why, how now, signior :-Shame on this weakness !-Were all to bend like you, when they meet disappointment, I know not who in this jostling life would walk upright. Pluck up your manly spirits, sigaior: your Floranthe lives-ay, and is true to you! Now, by Saint Dominick, I bring tidings that will glad you! : Oct. I pray you, do not sport with me, old man,— Swayed by her influence. I'm past jesting with. Roque. I never, signior, was much given to jesing; and he who sports with the misfortunes of another, though he may bring his head into repute for fancy, does his heart little credit for feeling. Rest you quiet, signior: here is one waiting without, that I have brought along with me, who will comfort you. Nay, I pray you, now, be patient. [Aside.] If this be the work of bringing lovers together, Heaven give him joy who makes a trade on't !—for, in fif ty years that Time has clapped his saddle on my back, he never so sorely galled my old withers as now! [Exit, L. Oct. Habit does much. I do begin to think, Since grief has been so close an inmate with me, That I have strained her nearer to my bosom Than I had pressed her, had the chequered scene, Which rouses man who mixes with his kind, Kept me from dotage on her. Our affections Must have a rest! and sorrow, when secluded, Grows strong in weakness." Pen the body up "In solitary durance, and, in time, "The human soul will idly fix its fancy "E'en on some peg stuck in the prison's wall, "And sigh to quit it." Re-enter ROQUE, L., conducting FLORANTHE-he points out Octavian, and withdraws, L. Sure I am not mad! Floranthe's lost; and, since my stubborn frame [A pause-he gazes on Floranthe for some time. How my sight thickens !-Speak! Flor, Octavian! Oct. That voice !-It is-so long, too!-Let me clasp thee! [Runs to meet her, staggers, and falls on his face. Flor. Oh! I did fear this. My Octavian! To see thee thus! [Calling off] Why, Roque !—Alas! Revive, or thou wilt kill me!-'Tis Floranthe,— Re-enter ROQUE, L.-He assists Octavian to rise. 'Tis there again!-Brain! brain!-Why, ay, that hand, E |