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SUBJECTS.

PAINTERS.

ENGRAVERS. The Lady Helen (Frontispiece)B. R. FAULKNER . H. Robinson. Vignette Title Page

T. UWINS, R. A.

E. Ratcliffe. Remembrance.

E.T. PARRIS

L. Stocks. The Bride

E.T. PABRIS.

W. Chevalier Francesca Foscari

K. MEADOWS.

Knight. The Sea! the Sea !

J. M. W. TURNER, R.A. J. T. Willmore. Helen Lagarde

E.T. PARRIS

H. Cooke. The Grecian Wife

E.T. PARRIS.

L. Stocks
MRS. SEYFFORTH

J. Goodyear
The Orphan of Palestine. J. M. WRIGHT.

Alfred Heath The Lovers

A. P. VICKERS

R. Brandard The Old English Squire H. LIVERSUEGE

R. Brandard A Sea Fight

A.P. VICKERS

R. Brandard The Reverie

D. M'CLISE, A. R. A. H. Cooke. View of Margate.

A. G. VICKERS

R. Brundard The Intercepted Letter MRS. SEYFFORTH

E. Portbury The Mother

A.E. CHALON, R. A. C. Rolls Lake of Como.

C.STANFIRLD, R. A. Grundy

Lalla ...

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159 175 179 207 217 225

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THURSDAY MORNING;

OR,

THE BACHELOR'S HOUSE:

AN INTERLUDE IN ONE ACT.

BY LADY DACRE.

WRITTEN FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS AND FOR PARTICULAR PERSONS.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SiR GEOFFREY, an old Bachelor.
HENRY, his Nephew.
MR. DEFOIL, a Jeweller.
Emma, betrothed to Sir Geoffrey.
Mrs. KINDWAYS, her friend.

SCENE I.

SIR GEOFFREY and HENRY.

Sir. G. Well, well, I have heard enough of your campaigns and your travels, Harry, I want some little account of yourself. I must tell you, a report reached me at your outset—from Paris—hey?

Henry. A thousand reports may have reached you, uncle.

Sir G. You know what I allude you—a pretty blue-eyed Opera Dancer.

Henry. Oh! little Stephanie! I ran a man through the body for her.

were n't

Sir G. Through the body, Harry? Odds, my life, and

you hanged for it, you dog?
Henry. You see, sir.
Sir G. What, the man survived ?
Henry. He did, for I only pierced his bust.

Sir G. Bust! the devil! the seat of the heart-the lungs-every thing most vital! How could he survive? The surgeon was sent for instantly, I presume.

Henry. No—but the tailor was.
Sir G. The tailor to stitch up a mortal wound?
Henry. It was only in the bust, as I told you.
Sir G. Explain yourself, you puppy.

Henry. Why, Mons. Alcide affected to be a modern Hercules. Nature had done but half her work; she had given the length requisite, but not the breadth, and in those pectoral muscles, provided by the tailor, I plunged my vengeful blade. Our seconds then interfered, we shook hands, and I relinquished Stephanie to him next day.

Sir G. That was strange, after fighting for her.

Henry. Not at all. I fancied at first there was something in her air—but no—I found I was mistaken ; besides, I danced that very evening with a girl who had really some slight resemblance to—to—at least I thought so for a few days. (sighs.)

Sir G. Resemblance ! some slight resemblance,” to whom?

Henry. Oh!—no matter-A girl—I knew before I left England—but-but-in short, I have forgotten all about

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it now.

Sir G. Oh! a first love! A school-boy fancy. Hey! So you have left your heart with this slight resemblance ?

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