Carel. She told me, it was the portrait of her mother.

Cons. Of her mother, did she say?

Carel. Yes, of her mother, and a very comely old woman she is.

Cons. Then it must be so. (Aside.)

Carel. She bid me dispose of it to save the old man. Cons. But you wont ?

Carel. D'ye think I'm such a heathen as to part mother and daughter? No, no, I bade her wipe the tears from her cheek, and promised to pay the money myself.

Cons. What's the amount?

Carel. That indeed I forgot to inquire.
Cons. Will you never learn to think?

Carel. Never, I'm afraid-whilst I can feel. Look'e, Constant, I can reason as well as any man. When misfortune does not look me in the face, I can march up slow time to the mouth of a cannon without shrinking; but when I see a tear on the cheek of a woman, it unmans me, and gives such an electrical shock to my reason, that humanity picks my pocket, before justice can fix her scales, or prudence put on her spectacles. I must be gone, you'll find me at our head-quarters.

[Exit.

Cons. (solus) 'Tis evident this girl is my sister, and

nothing remains, but that I should assert my title, and claim my inheritance, which my long absence has rendered doubly dear; for tho' the enterprizing spirit of youth led me far from my native land, my heart was still at home.

AIR 12th.

From the green waving corn,
The lark spreads his wings.
And hails, as he sings,

The fresh glow of the morn.

With pinions replenish'd, he hovers on high,

And so far sends his song from the blue-vaulted sky, You would think the shrill note, as he soars from

your view,

To his dear native earth, bad for ever, adieu!

But his eye is still fixt, where his wing shall repose; And tho' heaven-ward his flight,

He upholds with delight,

Yet with rapture he darts to the spot whence he rose.

Scene, a Room in the Inn..

[Exit.

Enter STURDY followed by SPARROWHAWKE.

Sparr. You refuse to discharge the girl?

Stur. Positively.

Sparr. Then the law must take its course.

Stur. Let it. If I can save myself only by the sacrifice of an innocent girl, the law must take its course; for curs'd be he who, to lighten his own shoulders, would add the weight of a feather to the heavy-laden daughter of affliction.

AIR 13th.

I.

Honour is the poor man's dower,
Peace and sweet content his lot,
Wealth awaits the sons of power,
Him the lowly shelter'd cot.

II.

Yet humbly blest, the son of toil,
From nature's bounty may inherit,
As warm a heart, as high a spirit,
As the proud owner of the soil.

Sparr. Very well, if that's the case I have done, you may walk in, Mr. Claw. (Enter a bailiff.) There's your prisoner.

Stur. No violence, I submit,

Enter CARELESS and GRACE,

Carel. So, so, you are at it already, gentlemen,

Sparr. This fellow again. (Aside.) Yes, we are, pray have you any objection?

Carel. What's the business?

Sparr. This old fellow owes me money, which not being able to pay, I have arrested him.

Carel. What, arrest a man that is not able to pay? Sparr. I have.

Carel. Why then you have mortgaged your soul to the devil, without reserving the equity of redemption.

Sparr. Indeed! and pray by what authority do you interfere in the business?

Carel. By that authority which nature has implanted here, and which in the case of an oppressed fellowcreature, may sometimes venture to be both judge and jury.

Sparr. Umph! that's a sort of practice I don't understand.

Carel. Can nothing move you?

Sparr. Yes, the old stratagem, payment of debt and costs. Mr. Claw, do your duty.

Carel. Stand off, myrmidon; I'll pay the money. Sparr. Why, you see, if you'll pay the moneyCarel. No words, sir. (Throws down a

Take it

purse.)

up: what HAWKE takes up the purse.) Pay yourself out of that,

you won't take it up? (SPARROW

A

and send me the change immediately; or by all the powers of fustigation, I'll mistake you for a skin of parchment, and drum upon you till I have awakened your conscience.

Sparr. Egad, then you'll drum some time. (Aside.) Come along, Claw.

Carel. And be sure you send the change?

Sparr. That I will, by a couple of constables.

[Exeunt SPARROWHAWKE and Bailiff. Stur. I thank you, sir. I cannot say how much ; but I thank you.

Carel. Why, then, say nothing about it. Come, come, cheer up my old gentleman; cheer up my drooping blossom. We are all in our turns the

children of sorrow.

Life is but an April day.

AIR 14th. (Trio.)

We pilgrims who travel thro' life's chequer❜d day, Like the blossom of April, but bloom to decay; A cloud and a sun-beam wind up its short span, So a smile and a tear make the journey of man.

[Exeunt.