I thought thou wast a serf; and, as a serf,
Had'st thought and will none other than my lord's,
And so no heart-that is, no heart of thine own.
But since thou say'st thou hast a heart, 't is well,

Keep it a secret; let me not suspect

What, were it e'en suspicion, were thy death. (Huon smiles.) Sir, did I name a banquet to thee now,

Huon. For his master oft a serf has died,

And thought it sweet; and may not, then, a serf

Say, for his mistress 't were a feast to die?

Coun. Thou art presumptuous-very-so, no wonder

If I misunderstood thee. Thou 'dst do well

To be thyself, and nothing more.

Huon. Myself!

Coun. Why, art thou not a serf? What right hast thou

To set thy person off with such a bearing?

And move with such a gait? to give thy brow

The set of noble's, and thy tongue his phrase?

Thy better's clothes sit fairer upon thee

Than on themselves, "and they were made for them."

I have no patience with thee-can't abide thee!
There are no bounds to thy ambition, none!
How durst thou e'er adventure to bestride
The war-horse-sitting him, that people say
Thou, not the knight, appear'st his proper load?
How durst thou touch the lance, the battle-axe,
And wheel the flaming falchion round thy head,
As thou would'st blaze the sun of chivalry?
I know! my father found thy aptitude,

And humored it, to boast thee off! He may chance
To rue it; and no wonder if he should,

If others' eyes see that they should not see,
Shown to them by his own.

Huon. Oh, lady

Huon. Heard I aright?

Coun. Aright-what heard'st thou, then?
I would not think thee so presumptuous
As through thy pride to misinterpret me.
It were not for thy health,-yea, for thy life!
Beware, sir. It would set my quiet blood,
On haste for mischief to thee, rushing through.
My veins, did I believe!―Thou art not mad;
Knowing thy vanity, I aggravate it.

Thou know'st 't were shame, the lowest free-woman
That follows in my train should think of thee!
Huon. I know it, lady.

Coun.

No more.

That I meant to say,

Do n't read such books to me again,

I would you had not learned to read so well,
I had been spared your annotations.

For the future, no reply when I remark.

Hear, but do n't speak —unless you're told

and then.

No more than you are told; what makes the answer up,
No syllable beyond.

(Huon retires up, o.)

My falconer! (crosses and looks off L.)

So,

An hour I'll fly my hawk. A noble bird
Knows his bells, is proud of them, yet
They are no portion of his excellence,
It is his own! 'Tis not by them he makes
His ample wheel; mounts up, and up, and up,
In spiry rings, piercing the firmament,

Till he o'ertops his prey; then gives his stoop,
More fleet and sure than ever arrow sped!
How nature fashioned him for his bold trade!

Gave him his stars of eyes to range abroad,
His wings of glorious spread to mow the air,
And breast of might to use them! I delight
To fly my hawk. The hawk's a glorious bird;

Obedient-yet a daring, dauntless bird!
You may be useful, sir: wait upon me.

(Huon advances, R.)

(Exeunt L.)

SCENE FROM THE COMEDY OF MONEY.

BY BULWER.

COSTUMES.

EVELYN, Fashionable suit.

GRAVES, Black dress coat, pants, and vest.

SHARP, Black frock coat, pants, and vest.

REMARKS. The political huckster, who stands ready to barter his conscience if he ever possessed a commodity so valuable - will find himself faithfully mirrored in the characters of Glossmore and Stout, in the following scene from Bulwer's comedy of Money. No less true to nature is that of Evelyn, who, becoming suddenly rich, after having been a poor dependent, a "hanger-on," imagines his disposition to have become soured, his generous nature warped, when in truth the most noble impulses sit,

"Crowned monarchs o'er his heart."

A charitable cynic, he sneers at the idea of there being any honesty in mankind, calls them "fools, knaves, hypocrites," "rails at all the world in good set terms," and then dispatches his man of business with £100 to the relief of a poor bricklayer. Graves is one of the nondescripts of society, wears black, mourns the loss of his "Sainted Maria," yet is ready to fall in love, and marry again as soon as that "monstrous fine woman," Lady Franklin, will afford him the opportunity. Man is, in truth, a being made up of the most contradictory materials.

Arrangement of Stage:

TABLE and CHAIRS. DESK, for SHARP.

R.......

FRONT OF STAGE.

EVELYN discovered at table reading a newspaper. SHARP at desk looking over accounts.

Enter STOUT, R.

Eve. Stout, you look heated!

Stout. I hear you have just bought the great Groginhole property.

Eve. It is true. Sharp says it's a bargain.

Stout. Well, my dear friend Hopkins, member for Groginhole, can't live another month—but the interests of mankind forbid regret for individuals! The patriot Popkins intends to start for the boro' the instant Hopkins is dead!-your interest will secure his election!-now is your time!--- put yourself forward in the march of enlightenment. bigoted, here comes Glossmore!

By all that is [Crosses to L.

Enter GLOSSMORE, R.; SHARP still at his desk. Gloss. So lucky to find you at home! Hopkins, of Groginhole, is not long for this world. Popkins the brewer, is already canvassing underhand-so very ungentlemanly-like! Keep your interest for young Lord Cipher—a valuable candidate. this is an awful moment--the Constitution depends on his return! Vote for Cipher!

Stout. Popkins is your man!

Eve. (musingly.) Cipher and Popkins-Popkins and Cipher! Enlightenment and Popkins-Cipher and the Constitution! I am puzzled! Stout, I am not known at Groginhole.

Stout. Your property's known there!

Eve. But purity of election-independence of votes — Stout. To be sure: Cipher bribes abominably. Frustrate his schemes-preserve the liberties of the borough-— turn

every man out of his house who votes against enlightenment and Popkins!

Eve. Right! Down with those who take the liberty to admire any liberty except our liberty! That is liberty!

Gloss. Cipher has a stake in the country-will have £50,000 a year—Cipher will never give a vote without considering beforehand how people of £50,000 a year will be affected by the motion.

Eve. Right: for as without law there would be no property, so to be the law for property is the only proper property of law That is law!

Stout. Popkins is all for economy- there's a sad waste of the public money-they give the Speaker £5,000 a year, when I've a brother-in-law who takes the chair at the vestry, and who assures me confidentially he'd consent to be Speaker for half the money!

Gloss. Enough, Mr. Stout. Mr. Evelyn has too much. at stake for a leveller.

Stout. And too much sense for a bigot.

Eve. Mr. Evelyn has no politics at all! Did you ever play at battledore?

Eve. Battledore!—that is a contest between two parties: both parties knock about something with singular skillsomething is kept up-high-low-here-there-everywhere nowhere! How grave are the players! how anxious the bystanders! how noisy the battledores! But when this something falls to the ground, only fancy-it's nothing but cork and feather! Go, and play by yourselves- I'm no hand at it! (Crosses, L.)

Stout. (aside.) Sad ignorance! Aristocrat!

Gloss. Heartless principles! Parvenu.

Stout. Then you don't go against us? - I'll bring Popkins

to-morrow.