jQOi A 1 ] Orders declined unless ) S 0 rX P F N O » ^temps are resnittofl. * 12^ Ctfn/St«?Ait> ( LACV'S ACTING EDI T ION . O l O $9 LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. O P ST' c THOMAS HAILES LACY, THEATRICAL BOOKSELLER, 89 S T R A N D , LONDON; W. O. {Opposite Southampton Street, Covvnt Gulden,) BRIGHTON, Feast, Castle Square; BEUJPAST. Moore, ,4M w Street; LDIHBUIIGH, Robinson, Gfr&knside Street; BIRMINGHAM, {A-ivaai.- Hit,: i Sirtfi'l. BRIS'IOL, W9 <&; Oi Bingham, *—«i L E E D S , Ha Headquarters ior And Me y rick, J Musical Xsistriimeuts, Deansgate ; a Sheet Music, Play Books NEWOASTIJ and all kinds of Musical MELBOURNE, Trimmings, W. V. Spencer, S. French» mic D r a m a s for College, Camp or Cabin, containing M a l e ^ Characters only. ^ r a m a s f o r B o y s , (Male characters only) by Miss Keating. * ; o m e P l a y s f o r L a d i e s , comprising Female Characters, SJ only, complete in 2 parts. ' P r a w i n g ?loom Dramas, Parts, 1 & 2.1 . I lays for t h e Parlour, / ^J Miss Keating. ^ Parades for Acting, by Miss Pickering. ,, J£ in E v e n i n g s E n t e r t a i n m e n t , consisting of an original E* Comedy a Burlesque, and Farce. karades i n Action, or P l a y s w i t h o u t w o r d s U ? by the Brothers M'AYHEW. t i r l e s q u e D r a m a s , & Cracker Bon-bon, by E. B. BROUQH >und Games for all Ages, a l l Seasons and all Places, Is. 6d. lor Magic; Or, t h e Book of W o n d e r s , with -"^eds of Illustrations, and all the New Tricks, I s #?** © C D m THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN; OR, THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BRIDAL. A Drama, IN THREE ACT BY THOMAS G. BLAKE, AUTHOR OF " Our Old House at Rome," " A Spanking Legacy," " The Cattle Stealers," " Life as it Is," &c. &c. &c. THOMAS HAILES LACY, 89, S T R A N D , (Opposite Southampton Street, Covent Garden Market,) LONDON. THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. As performed at the Olympic Theatre, 1851. Characters. WYNDHAM BOWYER {the reprobate Squire of the " Broadlands Manor," and Brother to the Rover) , MR. NORTON. ARNOLD HltLINGTON "(a reduced GentleGentleman, • now owner of * lF'airtight Downs'? Farm '. '. MR. SANGER. LIEUTENANT ADAM BASHFORD (a Son of the Wild and Boundless Waters — the " Lonely Man of the Ocean") .. MR. W. FARREN. JACK JOLLY (familiarly called Jolly Jack— Boatswain of H.M.S. the Sea Nymph) MR. C. BENDER. CYRUS BLOOM (a young Husbandman, in love with Becky Bowles, driven by desperation to become a Sailor) MR. W. SHALDERS. MARK BELL (a Vagrant Gipsy and Bobber in the pay of Squire Bowyer) MR. HARRIS. RED MARLEY.... HEATHCOTE MR. KINLOCH. MR. CLIFTON. EVE HILLINGTON {the "Flower of Fairlight" andbeirothed Bride of Adam Bashfor d) Miss FIELDING. BECKY BOWLES {a Village Coquette, icith certain matrimonial scruples) Miss I. ADAMS. PEG POLLOCK Miss WYNDHAM. TIME.—Present COSTUMES.—Modern in style and suited to the station and character of the persons represented. Programme of Scenery, &c. ACT I. Scene L—THE EXTERIOR OF THE FARM HOUSE. Fields of ripened Corn; Viaduct and Railroad; with distant View of the County of Kent. The assembling of the villagers—the night before the bridal—the rustic lovers and their quarrels—expected arrival of Adam Bashford—the twin brothers—the villagers disperse—appearance of Wyndham Bowyer—the newspaper account of his brother, the notorious pirate—the league of villany between Bowyer and Red Marley—diabolical scheme to overturn the railroad train—frustration of the plot, and the train of carriages traverses the line in safety. 822 B582l Scene II.—A LANDSCAPE NEAR THE FARM. The ruffians, Mark Bell and Heathcbte, lying in wait to attack Adam Bashford T-he appears—the attack and overthrow of Bashford—his rescue by Jack Jolly, the true British tar—the departure for the Farm—rage of Wyndham Bowyer— the second stratagem concocted to gain possession of Eve Hillington for t h e (V*\ libertine Squire. Y^ Scene III.—EXTERIOR OP THE FARM (as before). 4.J •h \ V ^ ^ The happy farmer—the lucky rustic—Cyrus Bloom in his glory—his story of h o w the train ivas saved from destruction—meeting of BaslifpM and Eve—the merryi- ; iriakirig—rustic dance—Jack Joliy quite'at home—jealousy of Cyrus—appearance of the Squire—he demands the hand of Eve i n marriage—his rejection and vows of vengeance—Jack Jolly recognises the features of the noted pirate—The likenes$ explained—Cyrus Bloom's gratitude to Adam—Jack Jolly making tbo free t —Cyrus won't stand it—approach of night—Jack Jolly's Account of his court** ship with one of the ladies-in-waiting of Queen Tommyrammyrammero—Jack's alive—the ruffians on t h e watchr-retiring for the night. Scene I.—THE ACT II. INTERIOR OF HILLINGTON'S FARM. The happiness of t h e family destroyed—the abduction of Eve Hillington—her apparent cruelty to Adam—the sailor, on a lee shore—Bowyer's letter—mystery upon mystery—the commission—Adam promoted to a captaincy—the instant -departure in pursuit of the fugitives-r-Becky's determination only to marry a saUor-^Cyrus's heroic resolve—another hero added to the Navy of Great Britain Becky's stratagem. ' Scene II.—CHIEF CABIN OF THE EAGLE. Bowyer and his victim—her reproaches, and determination to destroy herself by leaping from t h e cabin window into the sea if he dares molest her—The pirate's mistress, Helena—another victim of his brutality—story of. her wrongs and shame—her vow to protect Eve Hillington—the Pirate Crew appear and threaten violence—interference of Bowyer—he is defied by his men-—desperate combat; and heroic conduct of Helena. Scene / / / . — B E T W E E N DECKS OF THE SEA NYMPH. rus Bloom a Sailor-^—rather indisposed—the ship, not steady^—the new voli >r—Cyrus discovers another rival—the faithless Becky—" Oh 1 these worn these w o m e n ! " Scene IV.—MAIN DECK OF THE SEA NYMPH. Zf Misery of Adam Bashford a t the loss of Eve—Jack Jolly tries to cheer him, b u t y in vain—the signal gun—the pirate enemy in sight—preparations for t h e engage. ment—desperate sea tight, and general attack—boarding of t h e vessel by t h e * pirate—overthrow of Bowyer, and triumph of H.M.S. the Sea Nymph. AGTIIL £;..... Scene I.—MAIN DECK OF THE SEA NYMPH (as before). •4" T h e British sailors' triumph—the prisoners—Bashford's accusation of E y e - r t h e 4- trial—Bo.wyer - condemned by Bashford to walk the fatal plank—the burning « pirate ship—accidental death of Helena by the hand of Bowyer—he is precipi^ , tated into the foaming ocean from the plank. ^ 5 Scene II.—BETWEEN DECKS OF THE SEA NYMPH. More calamities—horrible announcement that the plague is on board the ship— the doomed crew. 0 Scene III.—-THE DEAD CREW AND DECK BY MOONLIGHT. f? Total annihilation of the ship's company, with the exception of the wretched ; Adam Bashford, T H E L O N E L Y MAN OF T H E OCEAN!—his despair and * madness—the distant ship—it approaches—the last hope, shivered! d EXTRAORDINARY AND IMPRESSIVE DENOUEMENT. THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. ACT I. ISossft L—jPictwesgue set Village. Cornfields, t§c, in the distance* Mnter BECKY BOWLES with VILLAGE MAIDENS, U. B . fc. Merry and gay let us trip it away, To the home where young Loye makes his dwelling; Let them say what they may, On the dear bridal day, The heart with its joy is o'er swelling. Merry and gay, &c. BECKY. Well, this is what I call nice. Jemima Jinks, you look like an angel—what a pretty cap, and what a duck of ar ribbon! Eve will be delighted. JEMIMA. At what ? my duck of a ribbon? BECKY. NO, her duck of a sailor,who this day arrives from sea— weren't they plighted when little things ? and love and constancy has been with them ever since. Ah, me! we poor girls have queer sensations before marriage, but I'm told we soon get accustomed to them afterwards—it must be an awful trial to go through.. I wonder when my time will come ? Enter CYRUS BLOOM, R. 1 E . CYRUS. Why now or never—al'us strike the iron when it be hot. Ah, girls, good morning to 'ee, it's a much finer morning this morning than it wur the morning before yesterday morning, but good morning to ye all, however I (shakes hands round) BECKY. There's familiarity J Hollo! I say, Mr. What-d'ye-callurn? CYRUS. Becky, that ben't my name, and well thee know'st it* BECKY. I know nothing, Mr. Thingumbob. CYRUS. Thingumbob, and Mister, too I That girl's doomed to turn I topsy-turvey. BECKY. Me! I don't know you, you scarecrow. CYRUS. Come, doant'ee fling that for'ard—if I did consent to frighten away the crows from old Farmer Furrow's field it weren't forsake o' lucre. BECKY. I t was, you miser, it was. SC. I.J THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. 5 CYRUS. I deny thee words; somebody said she'd come when nobody wur bye, an honest man's word be his bond, and so should be an honest woman's, let me tell'ee that Miss Beck^; and you *on't leave I a soluntary donkey again in a hurry—but we 'on't talk o' that—what the dickens be all you lasses dizened out in your best bibs and tuckers for I should like to know—I can't make it out no how soever. BECKY. Well, Cy, you're a simple Simon; I'll be charitable and tell you. CYRUS. That's hearty. BECKY. Do you remember Adam Bash ford ? CYRUS, Remember ! I shall never forget him as lon^ as I live. BECKY. He seems to have made a lasting impression on you, CYRUS. Aye; many a time he thumped me black and blue: but if he wur to thump me again and again, I'd forgive and thank him from the bottom of my heart. BECKY. You would? CYRUS. Aye, would I ; for though as lads we were al'us snarling like curs, yet when poor mother died and there seemed nothing for her but a parish coffin and a pauper grave, Adam stepp'd for'ara> and proved my only friend—I shan't forget the day as long as I live. There sat I, wi' a heart as heavy as lead—the sun's rays wur streaming through the lattice—but they couldn't cheer me—for poor mother lie dead in the shade. BECKY. Poor Cy I CYRUS. Aye, lass, tis a sad thing when death comes to the dwelling of the poor. But Adam Basliford buried poor mother like a lady, and when I see him again—but that's no matter—what about Adam, lass? BECKY. What a ninny you are; don't you know that Adam Basliford and Eve Hillington are to be married? and, stupid, don't you know that Adam is this day expected by the train ? CYRUS. YOU don't say so ! BECKY. And don't you know that to-morrow is settled for the wedding day. CYRUS. NO. Tol lol lol de rol, &c Od zookers I could lep out of my skin for joy. Tol lol lol de rol, &c. BECKY. The lout's beside himself. CYRUS. I believe 'ee, lass Tol lol lol de rol, &c* BECKY. And why ? CYRUS. Why, rat it, what a question! When Adam and Eve marry I shall be a bacheldor no longer. BECKY. La! you don't mean to say so, Cy ! CYRUS. Don't I—but I do. Eh, why drat it, lass, thee bean't unmindful o* thy promise, be 'ee ? BECKY, What is the ninny talking about. CYRUS. Ninny! Come none o' that—how often have you said . Pause, pause ! I will offer no violence. EVE. Swear it, or you look your last on the wretched Eve. . WYND. I do—I do, most solemnly ! f aside) I must wait a more fitting opportunity, {aloud) I will leave you, Miss Hillington, as proof of my obedience to your wishes, {aside) This storm of passion past, she must be resigned to her fate. Adieu! ' JEJxit, L. EVE. {watches Ms departure, descends and fatrsts into a flood, of tears) Are these human trials? Alone and unprotected, in the power of this wretch, torn from home, from all that loved me^-my poor father's heart will break, Adam, too, what'will will be his feelings ? tlie morn that should have ilsheied in a happy day will be one of bitterest misery—ere this, they will have called for Eve, and called in vain—my poor Adam, is this thy reward for years of constancy? My fate unknown, he will deem me a consenting party in this accursed act, and the lips that last night blessed me, to-day, in the bitterness of their desolation will curse. Oh no, they will never curse—they will pray for the wretched Eve, while; wondering at her fate. Miter HELENA STANTON, K., and regards her in silence. A woman! Thank heaveny I am not friendless. HEL. Cheat not thyself with that that belief—woman as I am, I may prove thy direst foe. A long and weary life of solitude has deadened in my heart all of woman's nature. EVE. "Who art thou ? H E L . I am the scorned mistress of the captain of this pirate ship. f EVE. Pirate! HEL. Ay, think'st thou 'tis a pleasure yacht—poor girl! So was1 I deceived. EVE. I am lost! HEL. Did he win you from the shore, from: home and friends- by a honied tale of love and never-dying constancy ? I know his arts? &nd have lived to repent the listening. He did! not tell yon, thai OB board you would find a being that once was counted beautiful, who once was the sunlight of her fond parents' hearts, who broke those hearts by heeding the vows of a villain, who sold her good name for shame, and forfeited her hope of heaven for a life of sin! speak, did he tellyou that ? EVE. NO, he was not so honest—he stole me from my home in the dead hour of night, when all around were sleeping. HEL. You have turned me from my purpose—the knife intended^ to drink thy blood shall find its rest in his heart. EVE. Horror! Art thou human ? . HEL. I was, but insult and cruelty have changed me; had I found thee his willing partner thy death were certain; as it is, thou shalt find a firmer friend in me, than thy fondest hopes could fancy —fear no ruffian touch, no brutal taunt, in the moment of peril I will be near—thy sentinel, thy safeguard. 24 THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. [ACT I I . EVE. This kindness—— HEL. Call it hy another name—hate! not to thee, poor maiden, but towards him, that fiend, who, spurning the laws of heaven and man, roams earth, scattering misery and desolation around him !— There was a time when he swore by every solemn oath he prized me more than all the world beside—he lured me from a poor but happy home—he taught me to forget the being I had sworn to honour and obey—he taught me to forget my children—the monster had wound his coil so firmly around my bewildered sense he taught me to forget myself! EVE. And your husband—your children HEL. They are dead to me—home and land to me has faded— this bark of crime is my floating prison, it is doomed to be my death place—for once on board all hope of escape is vain. EVE. And shall I never again behold those from whom I have been so cruelly separated ? HEL. Never! EVE. Oh, heaven, how have I merited this persecution ? HEL. Nature had made thee fair—'twas meant for a blessing, it has proved a curse—yet fear not, no harm shall reach you while I live, when I am gone thou wilt have no protector—yet ere I die thou shalt be freed at least from his power, with the ruthless crew thou must battle for thyself. EVE. What a destiny is mine! HEL. Aye, so thought I, when like thee I quitted home and friends. I would have foregone existence to have retraced my path for a little hour, to have heard that sweet word pardon, and died happy and in peace—bat fate denied that bliss—for years have I lingered with the barb of remorse at my heart, insult and scorn have placed a fiercer tenant there—revenge! Alone, in night's silent hour, home and its joys have been with me—I h-we been taught to feel the anguish that awaits the one false step—I have seen the face of honesty joyless and careworn—the forms of my deserted little ones, their voices ringing in the air, asking each other. " W h o has made our home so wretched, poor father so miserable?" The silent monitor answered with terrible conviction, 41 Wyndham Bowyer"—for Wyndham Bowyer I abandoned all—for him I linger in a prison, a despised wretch—while he, forgetful of all his vows, has brought another to share my hapless fate. "When I first heard of thee, I said—J will free that poor girl from her living tomb, for death to her were mercy—life, only endless misery. EVE. And your purpose was my destruction ? HEL. Aye ; had I found thee a consenting party thou hadst not lived so long, but the current of my revenge is changed, thou art safe—but the ruthless libertine, the trafficker in broken hearts, shall feel an injured woman's vengeance—he shall no more wreck happy homes, no more turn smiles to tears—his doom is cast. Music.—Enter RED MARLEY and BAXTER, L. E. How now, what intrusion is this ? SC. I I I . ] THE LONELY MAN OP THE OCEAN. 25 MAR. (aside) She here! Damnation! ; H E L . Your business—speak! MAR. I S with you—the Captain requires your presence on deck. EVE. (terrified) Oh, do not leave me, HEL. Fear not—villains, begone, I read your purpose-—offer no outrage to this poor entrapped girl, or it were better the ocean's depths had swallowed you, than you had lived to see this hour. MAR. Hie thee to the Captain, content thyself in his embrace— Baxter and I have diced for chance, and yon fair one's mine. (rushes towards her, HELENA seizes him by the tfiroat, EVE clings to HELENA) HEL. Dog of a mutineer, stand back—thou shalt not harm her, even in thought. MAR. Who shall stay me ? Music.—BOWYER rushes in. WYND. Your Captain, villain. What madness is this ? Keturn to your duty—I command you. MAR. I own no command. WYND. Ha, mutiny! MAR. . Aye,, and no fear of a court martial—the crew murmur,— our brave barque was never intended for a harem—thou hast one mistress, let her content thee—this new comer's mine. WYND. Not while I live. MAR. TO your shrift then, since it must be so—your moments are numbered. WYND. Cowardly miscreants! Music.—MARLEY and BAXTER attach BOWYER—HELENA draws a sword from the belt of BAXTER, and confronts him—Combat of four—during which, the PIRATES gain the advantage— BOWYER is thrown and HELENA disarmed—they are about to rush on them, as EVE seizes pistols from tJie cabin seat, levels and keeps them at bay, EVE. Advance a step, and die! Tableau* SCENE III.—Between DecJcs of the Sea Nymph. Enter CYRUS BLOOM, attired as a sailor, R. CYRUS. Well, here I be, and a pretty fool I ha' made o' myself to turn salt-sea sailor man, and all to pleasure a wench I'm afeard is as fickle as a weathercock. I don't stomach this life no how, for I can keep nought on mine. Lord, lord, how mortal sick I ha* been surely, and them sailor chaps grinning and jeering a body; calling one loblolly-boy, swab, and such loike—Oh, I'm just thinking I've made a precious ninnyhammer o' myself. Madam Becky, I suspect, has another bachelor, and only persuaded I to turn sailor, to get .1 clean out o' way—-onjy let me get home and c 26 THE LONELY MAN OP THE OCEAN. [ACT II. iind it so, drat me if I don't turn Becky and her new swain topsyturvy in a crack. Wait twenty-nine months for a wife! Ah, I should have shewn a little hit1 of independence and threatened to marry Sukey Slattern, then Becky would have sung to another tune, I warrant. JACK, (without L.) Heave-a-head, my hearty. CYRUS. Why, who the dickens he this youngster ? I han'na seen he afore. Enter BECKY, in sailor's clothes, followed by JACK, L. 2 E. BECKY. Ho, yeo-ho-hoy, my hearty, (to JACK) Am I right in my bearings ? sail in ship-shape—eh, Commodore ? JACK. If you ain't a first rater, jigger me. BECKY, (slapping CYRUS on the shoulder) What cheer, mate? Don't stand there with a face as long as a purser's account; run up your jib, fill your mainsail, and pay off your head. CYRUS. Come, none o' that—if you speak English I'll answer you—-I never lamed Latin. BECKY. Latin, you swab! It's pure English, the ship's English —why, what a know-nothing lubber you must be to let your laming slip through your fingers like a greased marlinspike. JACK. My dear eyes, that youngster takes in his eddication quicker than I could one-water grog. CYRUS. La, ha' marsy! I ha' surely seen you afore ! ain't I ? BECKY. Seen you afore! ain't I!—to be sure you have, many a time, in tow with the pretty Becky Bowles. CYRUS, (aside) The murder be coming out surety—that wench has made I a martyr. BECKY. She's as trim a little craft as ever sailed before the wind! All beauty from stem to stern—we were to have been spliced only for a lubberly clodhopper who was always crowding in her wake. CYRUS, (aside) Be I standing on my head or my elbows V She didn't tell 'ee the neame o' the clodhopper, did she ? BECKY. Yes, she did; I've shipped it in my log—one Cyrus Bloom. CYRUS. Oh, it was Cyrus Bloom, was it ? (aside) The she crocodile ! drat me but I'll rate her when I get home again. BECKY. Yes, a lubberly lout of a fellow—dear heart, how she did overhaul his points. Ha, ha; ha ! CYRUS. Overhaul him, did she! He, he, he ! (aside) 1'iii choking. BECKY. Yes, the rum yarn she spun about the griffin, would make a chaplain laugh in his sermon. CYRUS. Ha, ha! he, he, he! (aside) I'm choking, (aloud) What was the yarn about ? BECKY, Would you like to hear it ? CYRUS. Hugely, (aside) I'm swelling up like a turkey cock. JACK. NOW for a raking broadside—this is as good as a yam round the galley fire. Get under weigh, youngster, let's have - SC. III.] THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN 27 Abr'am—go-a-head with the yarn, slew it end for end, and then you'll have the right bearing of it. BECKY. Well, then, the little pinnace, bless her, described this kangaro of a lover of hers, as a paltry, insignificant, know-nothing swab ! Says Becky—love her heart—says she, " he has an open countenance, for he has got a monstrous mouth, that stretches as wide as a turnpike gate, and his nose hangs down as if to see that nothing went through without paying toll—but his glims "—— CYRUS. What be they ? BECKY. His eyes, you swab—"they were a pair of odd ones, that gave him the most agreeable squint in the world, and made him see two ways at once—many a chawbacon got a starting for quizzing him, thinking he was looking another way"—Ha, ha, ha! CYRUS. He, he, he ! He got a starting, did chawbacon ? Dang it if I don't start you, or my neame's not Cy Bloom, (prepares to pull off his coat) BECKY. Cy Bloom! JACK. The wery identical craft, with the odd glims and the turnpike mouth— Ha, ha, ha I CYRUS. Come, I say, Measter Jack, none o'that—not that I mind a bit of a quiz between old friends; but a little hop-o'my-thumb whipper-snapper like that. BECKY. Whipper-snapper! D—me, you'll find me a sailor every inch o' me. If you don't clap a stopper on your jawing tackle, I'll button up your eyes to keep 'em warm, in the turning of a log glass, (hitches up her troivsers, and squares) CYRUS. Od rat it—human nater can't stand that—you'll button I up, will 'ee? we'll try that in a crack, (strips) JACK. Belay, Delay I don't open your mouth to wind'ard, it's as^ bad as the mizen topsail aback—if the skipper only caught a hint of this sheave-o, my mother's a Dutchman if he wouldn't order you both under hatches and give you a round dozen, just by way of a cooler. CYRUS. Lard! lard! here's a precious plight Madam Becky ha* got I in. She villinesmy parsonable accomplishments, makes l a laughing stock for a young monkey, and when I offer to gi' he a good larruping, I'm to skip wi' a round dozen by way of a cooler. BECKY. Well, we'll bring this serimmidge to a clinch till we can see our way ahead—she's a rum craft, that Becky Bowles. " When shall we ask the chaplain to splice us ?" says I. " In twenty-nine months," says she. " My dear eyes,'' says I, "that's as bad as a fellow on a long voyage, night and day at the pumps;'' but it was no use boxing about, she was as fast to her point as a muscle to a ship's bottom-—" for," says she, " I've promised a worthy, handsome, honest lad" CYRUS. Ay, that wur I, she meant—chap, wi' queer thingumbobs {pointing to his eyes) were somebody else. BECKY. YOU ! you ugly hippopotamus ! " I've promised," says she, " a worthy, handsome fellow," says she, " if he will but take a turn to sea, just by way of rubbing off the rust; and in twentynine months, when he returns, and I come in for my fortm''—— 28 THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. LACT II* CYRUS. Fortin! BECKY. Aye, the rhino left her by her grandmother. CYRUS. Oho! and she al'us said Margery Mumps died as poor as church mouse. BECKY. "When I come in for my fortune, he who holds constant and true, and is most to my mind, shall have me for better or worse. CYRUS. Huzza! She beant so bad as I thought arter all, tol d© rol, &c. I be the lad for her money—she wants a sailor husband, does she, only let her wait a bit and I'm the chap, from top to toe. D me! Hitches up his trowsers, taps his hat, and exit, r.. JACK. Ha, ha, ha! Split me but this is a rum rig; but we must veer round upon another tack now. Duty, mate, duty; every man to his station. My dear eyes, what griffins these petticoats do make of us to be sure—there's a poor swab takes to the sea for twentynine months to please his craft; and there's the skipper above as melancholy as a sick marine, 'cos as how his little pinnace has cut and run with the enemy. Sink or swim's my motto, and the girl that won't hold true to her colours ain't worthy a sailor's thought. If she sticks fast to her cable, she's a trump—and if she cuts, let her go and be — What argifies patter when the gunner's sponge rubs out all scores ? Heave ahead, mate I Exit, »• SCENE IV.—Main Deck of the Sea Nymph Enter ADAM BA&KFQRD from cabin. ADAM. Again I'm afloat on the main. Why did I ever turn my thoughts towards land—that charmless land, that she, false, faithless as she is, has made hateful ? No more I'll seek it—my home henceforth shall be on the wave, it's cold deep bosom my grave. In vain I try to banish her from memory—the more I struggle, more forcibly she comes, and with her the remembrance of a hunr dred bygone happy days. 'Sdeath ! to hold firm to her faith from childhood, and then turn traitor! 'Tis enough to shake a heart of iron, and mine I find is human. Can I ever forget her artless smiles, her looks of innocence and love ? Psha! I was a dreaming boy, she found upon the land another more suited to her choice— she forgot her plodding sailor on the sea, whose only thought was her happiness, whose only study was to store up all for her—and on the eve of my long-promised joy to leave her home, her aged father. Let me read again this hated scrawl, (reads) " Ere you peruse this, we shall be far at sea, and let your nautical hero track us if he can." Heaven grant me that I—there is a solace in revenge, even if death were the sacrifice. Enter JACK, up hatchway. JACK, (overhearing) Death ! Splinters and spars! The grim Commodore is always atnwart the Captain's upper works. Marsy on SO. IY.] THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. 29 me, he looks as white in the fore as a slip of new canvas on an old sail. Your honourADAM. Well, Jack ? JACK. You'll excuse me, your honour, for letting out the cable of my mind; I ain't going to spin a yarn as long as the maintop bowline, but it cuts me to the quick to see your honour so hove down in the port of melancholy. Our chaplain always said, " Pitch care overboard if he comes to the fore." What, though your hopes be stranded on the shore, look a-head, your honour, there's sartin pro^ motion in the sarvice of your country; you'll find work enough to start her from memory, or, mayhap, you find some one more worthy; ADAM. Never, Jack, never! Trust rather to a quicksand than to woman's love. From our earliest days we were plighted; at end of every voyage, our vows of love and constancy were renewed, both seemed to live for the moment that was to render two hearts one. Where are those hearts now ? 'Tis womanish to say it—one almost broken, the other revelling afar. JACK. Sink me, but it was a heartless trick, and your honour Bailing like the wind to reach port, fancying yourself about to be laid up in lavender for life, and then to fall from the mast head bang into the hold! But I'm glad on it! I'm glad on it 1 ADAM. Glad! JACK. If I ain't, jigger me! Suppose old Spliceum had tacked you together, and as you hadn't given up all idea of another cruise, you might have been at sea, and if she had taken it into her fancy to cut and run then ? ADAM. She would have borne my name, and I should have shared a portion of her shame ; now the crime is all her own. I could not remain at her birthplace to endure the cold glance of pity, unwedded as she was; had she been my wife--the thought is madness J JACK. Call me an hignoramus if all hasn't happened for the best. Why 'twould have been a loss to the service, if your honour a young and brave seaman, had left it, when your foot was on the ladder of promotion—time enough to anchor in the haven of matrimony after twenty years' honorable and glorious service, and then to lie up in comfort, mayhap a lord high admiral, with plenty of shot in the locker, instead of wasting a young life with a pretty wife and, mayhap, a whole crew of young tars, (a distant gun) VOICE, (above) A sail in the offing! ADAM. See where she rides. , (a miniature ship worJcs on in the distance) JACK, A S smoothly as a duck on full water, (handing glass to ADAM) Clap your glim athwart her, your honous, and see what sort o' cretur it is. ADAM, (looking through glass) What do I see ? Can I be mistaken ? No!—tliere is not another like her on the main—'Tis she 1 JACK. Who's she, your honour ? ADAM. The Eagle—the pirate craft we encountered off Cape Finis terre. JACK. Oh, there ain't no such luck, (aside) He's sprung a bit of a leak aloft, and his upper works are damaged. Let's have a squint, 30 THE LONELY MAN OP THE OCEAN. [ACT I I . your honour? I'd know her itom a whole fleet, aye, were it a million strong, {holes through glass) Hooray! if it ain't the same ugly-built varmint, call me a hignoramus, will yer ? She's crowding all sail towards us; my old shoes to a marine's button, Miss Hillington's aboard. ADAM. What say you ! on board! it cannot be. Hillington said that Bowyer's brother was the daring pirate, and so much resembling him, 'twere difficult to tell one from the other. Be that as it may, 'tis a lawless craft. • JACK. And we'll have a cut at her! Huzza! D e, I hate doing nothing, and having a whole crew to help me. Crowd all sail and come alongside us, you beauty, and we'll let daylight through your ribs. ADAM. Pipe all hands, Jack. (JACK blows whistle) Music—The GREW man the deck, among them CYRUS and BECKY. Here's work for you, my lads—an enemy lies in our wake. SAILORS Huzza! CYRUS, {veryfaintly) Hoo—ray! I'm getting mortal queer again. BECKY. What did he say, an enemy ? then there'll be a battle. Oh me, I wish I was snug at home. ADAM, {looking through glass) She makes head bravely; clap on all stress of sail—brace the yards up—and let her come to the wind on the larboard tack. SAILORS. Aye, aye, sir. {distant gun) BECKY. I shall faint. CYRUS. Oh, why did I turn sailor? ADAM. Topmen, away aloft—keep snugly to leeward—see that all your studding-sail gear is properly rove, and everything ready for shaking out a reef and setting the royals. VOICES. Aye, aye, sir. ADAM. Maintop there! stand by to hoist the pennant, and mind it blows out clear. VOICES, (above) Aye, aye, sir. JACK. Huzza, your honour! she's bearing down upon us like the wind. Huzza! for the bold buccaneer and Eve Hillington. ADAM. Again prophetic be your words ! heaven grant she may be aboard, for then I shall have my heart's dearest wish in meeting him, for we shall come band to hand—foot to foot—and there will be death between us. Unfurl the Union Jack, let it float in the breeze. Send forth a volley of defiance, let the iron of Old England boom over the deep, {heavy discharge of guns) Men, stand to your guns; fight for the Queen and the land of your birth, {guns) CYRUS. I can't stand this, I am so queer—I must go below. BECKY. I'm queer too—take me with you. {they scramble below) JACK, {looking through glass) I can spy him on deck—the werry identical Warmint. ADAM, {looking through glass) By heavens, 'tis h e ! Another raking broadside, {guns—wildly) Ha, ha, ha! this moment is worth a long life. Come, Bawyer, come ! my impatient soul chides each SC. I ] . THE LONELY MAN OP THE OCEAN. 31 moment of delay. Eve on board! heaven grant it. Come, Bowyer, come—and stake for death or glory. JACK. Be calm, be calm, your honour. ADAM. I am, as an infant sleeping. Should I tall, Jack, do not bear me to the land; give me a sailor's shroud—a seaman's grave. JACK. Aye, aye, sir. She's under our bows; ADAU. Another broadside. Stand to your guns ! {Music—The sea fight—the firing kept up loud and continuous —the PIRATE CREW board the Queen's ship, amidst shouts and heavy firing) ADAM, (meeting BOWYER) Ha, ha, h a ! For the Queen and Eve Hillington. (Music—Desperate contest by all hands—BOWYER is disarmed and thrown by ADAM—HELENA, on the side of the vessel, levels a pistol at BASHFORD ; EVE, by her side, baulks the aim—-the pistol discharged in the air) EVE. Adam, dear Adam! (runs forward and faints at his feet) ADAM. Eve! Monster, die! HELENA catches his arm—the PIRATES crouch under the arms of their conquerors. Tableau, END OP ACT I I . ACT III. SCENE l.-^Main Deck of The Sea Nymph, as before. Music—enter JACK JOLLY, GRAPNELL, and SAILORS. JACK. Huzza, my hearts! Arter a storm comes a calm, and arter a battle a boose. My dear eyes ! look at yonder crippled craft, her sails riddled like a sieve—the sarcy warmint to grapple with a Queen's ship, and hope to come off without crying peccavi. Why they might as well have looked for soundings in the Falls of Niaggery in Amerikey, or doubled Cape Horn in a cockle shell. GKAP. But what does the skipper mean, Jack, by delivering up all the captured crew to the Albion that hailed us and keeping th$ pirate captain and the women on board ? JACK. Call me a hignoramus, if I know; saving as how he's shipped off the crew in the Albion, as she's bound for England, that the piratical lubbers may get their deserts, and dance upon nothing. GTRAP. But he reported their captain was dead and none of his crew are the wiser—what could that be for? JACK. I've a guess notion. D'ye see, that lawless buccaneer has been sailing under the black flag for many a year, we once had a scrimmidge with the warmint oft Cape Finisterre, but he somehow or other managed to slip out of our wake and stood out to sea. Our skipper, as every man of you know, crowded all sail for home, 32 THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. [ACT III. thinking to be spliced to the girl of his heart—there was his honour and I, as happy as middies ashore on a pay day, when the morning came, the girl had been carried off during the night by Squire Bowyer. GRAP. Squire! I thought he was a captain ? JACK. Belay, belay, arn't I telling on you ? At homeBthey said there were two brothers as much alike as two forty-pounders, you couldn't tell one from t'other—one a squire living in a fine house with his yacht on the water— the other a buccaneer on the main— it was a lie ! bless you, the buccaneer was killed just after his scrimmidge with us in the gut of Gibraltar—and the landsman thinking the life of a pirate a profitable one, takes to the trade. GRAP. How the devil did you hear all this ? JACK. From one of the crew, a fellow named Marley, who it seems being one day more that half seas over, urged the crew to mutiny, his skipper clapped him in irons, and on a promise of obedience pardoned him. GRAP. But I want to know what he intends doing with the pirate ? JACK. I shouldn't wonder if he strung him up to the yard-arm. GRAP. Why not have sent him to England for trial ? JACK. Because there's nothing like having one's ends of a man who does one a wrong; our captain has as brave and kind a heart as ever handled trumpet, but he's a devil for revenge, and when a " man loses the mainstay of his heart, the lass he loves, he'd go round the world to square the yards with the villain that stole her. Ah, you know-nothing swab! you don't know what it is to lose the girl you love—when my Peg Pollock went off with a drummer, and they told me on it; I swore for a week—got drunk for a month —took to my hammock for a day or two, and got up blessing my lucky stars I'd got rid of a bad bargain—but with our skipper it's quite another guess sort of thing. GRAP. Steady—he's coming on deck. Music—Enter CAPTAIN BASHFORD/mw cabin. ADAM* Morning has come again, and the sun is shining in the west—Bowyer, ere yon bright orb shall set you will be numbered with the dead, for I swore should we ever meet, death only should part us. (to JACK) I S Marline and his men on board that pirate craft? JACK. Aye, your honour, waiting orders, ADAM. 'Tis well—bring forth your prisoners. JACK. All of 'em, your honour ? ADAM. All! JACK. NOW old curious, you'll soon be satisfied, {to GRAPNELL) ADAM. Why am I not obeyed ? JACK. In the wink of a blind eye, your honour. Exit JACK and SAILORS—cabin, ADAM. I have snatched her from his grasp, 'tis a sweet revenge —yet she never can be mine; honour is man and woman's dearest treasure—what a wretched bankrupt is the loser. I must be firm, SC. I ] . THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. 33 no prayers—no tears—must move m e ; I will think only of the blighted past, nor heed the future. They come! Music.—JACK and SAILORS return tuith BOWYER in chains; HELENA and EVE follow—the latter runs to ADAM. EVE. Adam ! dear Adam ! ADAM. Be dumb, madam, I have heard those words before and fondly heeded them : now they cannot penetrate a heart dead to every feeling, save one—a just—a terrible revenge! EVE. I never wronged you, Adam, in thought or deed. ADAM, (violently) Not wronged me! (checking himself) We are not here to speak of that; again, I say, be dumb. Captain Bowyer, after a night of slaughter the calm has set around, save in my heart; you are not unconscious that you have done me a deadlywrong. In her native village, you beheld a happy seaman—the morn that should have crowned that happiness, you changed to blackest night; for in her a poor old man lost his hope—this fond heart then, it's idol. EVE. Oh, Adam ! dear Adam! ADAM. I'll speak with you anon, madam, (to BOWYER) You turned our tide of joy to tears—all my fancied hopes of bliss to sand; I cannot think of this, and bid memory slumber. WYND. I ask no mercy, I do not expect it—to excuse my mad folly, were vain; but if it be any consolation to you, know that Miss Hillington is as pure as when she left her father's dwelling. ADAM. Pure? and in thy keeping! ha, ha, hal EVE. AS there is light and hope in heaven, he speaks the truth. HEL. On my soul I swear it. ADAM. Preach to the wind; Bowyer, thou wert prostrate at my feet, unarmed, defenceless, I could have slain thee then—but 1 spared thee that thou might know the extent of ruin thou hast wrought. Think you the heart of the sailor will ever bound again as when you met him on the shore ? Think you, yon weeping girl, can look upon her home, her father's eyes again, the same Happy being you, hell kite! found her ? Never! never! What punishment were adequate to the ruin you have caused ? Speak, sir, I will give thee thy choice of death. HEL. Oh no, not death! spare him for repentance. EVE. Mercy, Adam, mercy! as at your need you hope to iind it. ADAM. There is a bitter oath upon my soul, that all the world could not persuade me to forego. Yonder lies your lawless craft; at my signal, she will become a pile of burning ruins. For these, your victims, they shall be borne to England—but they shall be spectators of thy doom. No more happy homes shall be wrecked, no more fond homes blighted by thee, monster. WYND. Are you a man ? ADAM. I was. If I seem aught else, 'tis you alone have made me what I am. WYND. This act stamps thee savage and unnatural. ADAM. Indeed ! Does it so? How shall I classify your act? Was that merciful, or in nature ? The bolt is hanging over you, 34 THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. [ACT I I I . and craven like you fear it's fall. We trifle time; choose, sir—the yard-arm or the plank. EVE. Horror ! Adam, stain not thy soul by taking the life oT a fellow-creature. Give him to the laws; seek not self-revenge. (ADAM turns away) WYND. For thy generous pity—thanks. I do not shrink from the doom that awaits me ; but to die the death of a dog—no \ rather in the deep. ADAM. 'Tis well—prepare the plank. Music.— The plank is affixed to the ship's side—ADAM fires a pistol in the air—a pause of consternation from all—a red glare rises in the distance. HEL. The ship is on fire ! ADAM. Aye, madam, the pirate ship. Its commander and the craft are destined to perish together—Bowyer, to thy fate—come! WYND. One moment's grace, to implore forgiveness for past errors. You, Miss Hiilington, I feel assured will forgive the misery 1 have caused you, for I have witnessed your generous nature. Helena HEL. Die, Bowyer, in peace—I will not nourish rancour to one so near eternity. From my soul I forgive you. WYND. Bless you!, bless you!—I can die— (aside) but not unavenged, (aloud) Death rides on the blast, Bashford; I am not its only victim—perish thou ! Music.— Draws pistol from bosom, fires — the shot strikes HELENA ~ BOWYER rushes along the plank, it tilts, he disappears — the burning of the pirate ship is reflected strongly. EVE. Hapless woman! HEL. NO—happy, thrice happy!—for he has kept one vow—he gwore that we should live and die together—he is no perjurer there. Let the same grave hold us—to live were misery, in death there's bliss. Pardon, husband—children o—h ! (dies) Tableau!—Bed fire at fall. SCENE II.—Between Decks. Enter CYRUS BLOOM and BECKY, R. J both are very pale, CYRUS. Dear heart, how mortal bad I be surely—I've beet frightened out of my wits and a year's growth into the bargain. Oh, Becky Bowles! Becky Bowles! I shall never see you no more—I be spoken to—I be booked—BECKY. And so am I—I'm half dead with fright. If I'd ha* thought they'd have had a battle, they wouldn't have caught me at sea, among such a set of murdering savages. CYRUS. I say, 'twur lucky we got out of harm's wky when the fight was on—I should ha' caught a stray bullet in my unlucky carcase, I know I should—it's al'us been my luck to find a thing when I wasn't looking for it. But, I say, how plaguy still every- SC. II.] THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. 35 thing is about us—the hammocks are nearly all filled with sailors. What can that mean, I wonder ? BECKY. Mean! Why that the poor fellows are all tired after their long fighting, and no wonder. CYRUS. Truly, truly; if I'd ha' been in the thick of it I shouldn't get up for a month, if ever I did again. Oh, I'm an unfortunate gander. Why the dickens was I persuaded to turn sailor? Madam Becky little knows the precious mess she ha' plunged I into. I shall never see her again, or poor mother's grave, or the village church, or the Cat in Pattens ! Oh, Becky! Becky ! this be all your doings! BECKY, (crying) I know it, Cy, I know it. CYRUS. Eh! Why dang it, if you beant she! Beant'ee ? BECKY. TO be sure l a m , CYRUS. Tol lol lol. Oh! I can't sing, I feel so sadly—let's ha' a look at 'ee, wench. Oh! oh! Becky Bowles in a jacket and thingamy's ! Who'd ha' thought it! Oh! here be ondelicacy, I be quite ashamed o' thee. ' ,, BECKY. I'm ashamed of myself, Cy. (crying) But it was all thrdugh you. CYRUS. All through me ! Come, come, none o' that. BECKY. Yes, if you hadn't set your heart on becoming a sailor, t should never thought of following you. Did you think I intended to wait twenty-nine months for a husband ? CYRUS. You said so. BECKY. But you should never take a woman at her first word. CYRUS. No ! Then we ha' brought our pigs to a precious market, BECKY. You shouldn't have turned sailor. CYRUS. Why did you give me the notion then ? But it can't be helped now, lass, so gi* us a buss and say no more about it—why how mortal pale you be, surely BECKY. And so are you, Cy, you're as white as a turnip. CYRUS. Oh, dear! We shall be both cut off in our olessed rime, in the flower of our youth and innocence. Oh, if I only ve to get safe on land they won't catch me at sea again—I've had enow o' that. BECKY. Don't mention it, I shall hate the name of sea as long as I live. CYRUS. That won't be long I reckon. BECKY, (crying) Don't say so ! CYRUS. I be sure on't—and what a fool I've been. I bought the ground where poor mother rests, in hopes when the time should come I might lie beside her. Oh ! folks said at home—a fool and his money were soon parted. BECKY. Hush! Here's the sailor! E Enter JACK JOLLY, L. JACK. It's all too true—'tis a doomed ship. Yellow Jack's on board, to grapple every mother's son. BECKY. Then he won't grapple me, that's one comfort. CYRUS. And who the dickens be Yellow Jack ? 36 THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN* [ACT I I . JACK. The yellow fever—the plague! CYRUS. Come, none o> that—you only say so to frighten a body. JACK. It's as true as the light. Go look in the hammocks, or on the decks strewn with seaman who only a few hours since were alive in health and strength—I tell you, we are all doomed. CYRUS. Oh! booked—done for, to a certainty! JACK. Why do you anchor here ? Come on the deck. All below smells like a grave scorched by the sun—air' Air! Bushes off, R. CYRUS and BECKY look dolefully at each other) tlien burst into a violentfloodof grief CYRUS. Oh, oh! It be all up wi' us! BECKY. Oh, oh! Why did I come to sea to be boarded by a yellowback. GYRUS. Don't pine, lass, while there be life there be hope, and all's not lost that's in danger—think o' that. BECKY. Think 1 I can't think of nothing but the yellow jack. CYRUS. That precious Yellow Jack I BOTH. Oh, oh, oh ! J&xit, R., holding. SCENE III.—The Deck (set). Tableau. .The dead crew by moonlight ADAM discovered. ADAM. Alone, alone in this floating charnel-house—there is not a breath on the waters, and the pale moonlight streams over the features of the dead. Oh! how I dread the dawn, the rising of the sun, beneath whose scorching beams this helpless crew must fester. I have not strength to give their bodies to the deep —Eve, is resting there—'these hands performed that last sad office. Oh! this is retributive justice! Methought the voice of Bowyer mocked me at my work, for an angel bade me spare him and I was deaf to the appeal—madman, that I was—her words were " Mercy, mercy, Adam, as at your need you hope to find it." They will haunt me for ever—I, who have so much need of mercy, and dare not hope it—death's wing has swept all around me, yet I linger on -—I who swore to die upon the waters, to shun for ever the land— 'twas impious. I have called on death, he hears me not. I am doomed to tarry in this region where all is still and desolate—not even a sound to dispel this horrid silence, save the roar of the waters, and the flap of sea bird's wing. I grow strengthless— Strengthless! (supports himself against a gun) JACK appears up the hatchvmy. 3ACK. Captain—your honour. ADAM. Who calls? Jack! Thank heaven, I hear again a human voice, (assisting him fortvard) JACK. Ah, Jack's pipes will soon be hushed; a burning fever rages in my heart, that all the sea could never quench. I see you ACT I I I . ] THE LONELY MAN OF sTHE OCEAN. 37 ere I weigh anchor for the last port—there's consolation even in that, for you and I were boys Mgether— we left home together for a life upon -the wave; we have lived—we shall die there. ADAM. /Say not so, Jack; hope is life. Death will be merciful, he will spare you to cheer me in this region of solitude: we will talk of our early days on land, of our fathers' homes:, of the smiling faces that met us each time we came from sea, our sprees in every port, our happy days afloat. He hears me not. Death ! death is on him. (raises him with difficulty—JACK falls dead) He is dead! I am now alone; in the world—no hand to steer the dead freight—no hand to give it to the deep—'twill fester here in the rays of the sun; oh, hpw I dread it's rising. Alone! alone in this floating abode of deatji—the waves it's helmsman, I, it's only living tenant. The Lonely Man of the Ocean; stripped of every hope, even the sinner's ?;ist*#the endless sleep, when sorrow and suffering cease ; I may linger on for days—perhaps months-—years, and none come to snatch niefSfrom this scene of horrors. Should a sail appear in sight, 'twould shun the doomed ship, on board of which pestilence rages. -.There is refuge but in suicide—to leap from the deck into the : deep— to bid farewell to light and life; yet to die the coward's death—the madman's last resource—while reason keeps her seat, and Christian creed bids the sinner yet to hope. It is His mighty will, and though in deepest wretchedness, I still must suffer oh. I A distant gun is fired, and a miniature vessel works in sigM, shown byffie moon, A sail! a sail! Hope dawns again. I'll answer it, they'll hear my signal of distress, and heed it. H o ! a linstock ! Fool! I prate to the dead—there is none to hear me. I—I am strengthless; yet one last effort, 'tis for life or death! Music.—He rushes to the bach, and returns with a lighted linstock, which he applies to several guns, without effect, I am lost! all are unloaded ! (reaches another, L. 2 E.) Ah, this is the last glimmering of hope ! (fires it) The last gun, and fired by the last man;©f the crew ! (it is answered by the distant vessel) She hears ! she hears! and spreads her sails towards me. Hope! Life! Joy! Ha, ha, ha ! (falls senseless) Music.-^Glouds loorh slowly across the front of stage, which dispelling, discover 4, SCENE THE LAST.-#U£ Chamber in Iffllingtori's Farm, Large window in centre, tlirougli which the sun's rays are streaming; bed in an alcove. ADAM is discovered on a sofa in troubled sleep. Music,—A loudfaioclcingheard at v. in F. . ADAM. No—hone will come on board. They fear the fever— they shift their helm—they abandon the doomed ship—they leave me to madness and to death. D 38 THE LONELY MAN OP THE OCEAN. [SC. l e i The Mocking is repeated. HiLLiNaTON opens the door -with a hey and enters, folhwed^ij s^emt NEIGHBOURS. HILL. HO, Adam ! Here, 'and dressed !—not in bed all night! Wake, man, wake !-—the sun is high in the heavens I Your bride will be waiting-. P- Wake, man, wake! {shakes him) ADAM, {waking) Where am I ? (starts up, gazing wildly) I see all—a dream! A horrid dream! (chord) Thank heaven, it was not reality! (falls on his Jcnees) HILL. But why here, Adam, and not in bed all night ? ADAM. The air was hot and sultry, and the burnings of an overcharged heart banished sleep—I lingered here in the pale moonlight, thinking of past and future days, and when sleep dame, what a dream of horror flitted o'er my soul—it was the warning of the night to bid me, waking, dsubly prize the treasure that is not lost, (joy bells) .*•'. Enter EVE, D. in F., attired as a Bride, followed by BRIDESMAIDS and LASSES. Eve! my own, my dearest! Dost remember, love, our parting words last night ? Was Adam in thy dreaming thoughts ? EVE. He was. ALDAM. For weal or woe ? EVE. A lot, the brightest!—one round of constancy, of neverdying love! CYRUS BLOOM sings without, and enters, D. P., with BECKY, both wearing wedding favors, \ CYRUS. Tol lol, lol de rol. Gi' me joy! Gi' me joy!—Becky can't hold out nine and twenty months—she be so badly in want of a husband. BECKY. I ! Don't believe him, neighbours, the wretch has been teazing me to death because I accidentally did make a kind of a sort of a promise to wed the same day as Miss Eve. CYRUS. And neighbours, she says, I ha' gotten such a wheedling way wi' me, for the life on her she couldn't refuse. BECKY. Hold your stupid tongue, do! CYRUS, Lard! lard! how happy she ha' made I, to be sure !—I thought I shouldn't sleep a wink for thinking, ^ u t I did, and dreamt ADAM. Dreamt? CYRUS. Aye. I say, Farmer, that ale that wur brewed same clay Miss Eve wur born be famous stuff to set folks drejtming—I dreamt I wur feyther to a step ladder o' little ones, anfl wur in such a fluster cause the girls warn't so tidy as Becky could wish 'em, and all the boys wanted new highlows. ADAM. H a ! h a ! An omen of the cares of matrimony, Cyrus. (joy bells) HILL. Come to breakfast, and then to church. Adam, you will find my little Eve, as a wife, what she has ever been as a daughter -—beautiful and good. AC1* l i t ] THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN. 39 JACK JOLLY, (without) Belay! belay! don't get under weight till I'm alongside—we're all on us bound for the same port. Music.—Enters, D. F , wearing a laftfe wedding favour—a buxrnn' country LASS hangs on his arm. ADAM. What, Jack, taken in tow at last! Ha, lia, h a ! JACK. Aye, your honour may laugh; bless yon, I ain't xmwen* erable—human nater's human nater. You may dress a pig in a sarplis, but he's a porker arter all. This is my craft, Peg Pollock, as 1 told your honour on. Bob a bit, Peg. (PEG curtseys) And what they said #>out the drummer was all a d - — EVE. (cheeking him) Aha I JACK. AX pardon—was a libel on the most constantest of all female women craft. Bob, Peg, and shew 'em your genteel breeding. (PEG curtseys) HILL. Come, come, we have no time to lose. JACK. (looMng out) Why here's that whifllegig chap of a pirate bearing down. EVE. Wynclham Bowyer! ADAM, (asid^) My rival in the dream! Bells and music.—Enter WYNPHAM BOWYER, D. in F. WYND. (aside) My scheme of last night failed—her door was fastened from within, {aloud) Joy, joy, to all, Miss Hillington, I could not quit : this village, perhaps for ever, without soliciting forgiveness for nast importunities. I sought your hand in honour —there was a disparity of station between us, you wisely observed, i t ; I do not blamef you. You are all on the high road to matrimony it seems. CYRUS. Yes, and I'm fidgetting myself to fiddle strings till we start. BECKY. Hold your stupid tongue, do! WYND. I go to the gay metropolis to unite my destiny with a lady of high birth, yet ere 1 departed, I could not refrain from leaving behind me some token of my respect for Miss Hillington—that in after days as the wife of Lieutenant Bashford, she might not unfiavourablylregard one, who proudly acknowledges he was captivo to her charms, and who now begs her acceptance o£ an humble token of his friendship, (presents casket) EVE. They shall be received, sir, in the kind spirit with which you offer them. , CYRUS. What's he going to give Becky, I wonder ? WYND. Joy, joy to all! CYRUS. Same to you, Squire, till you're tired on it. WYND. Lieutenant Bashford, your hand—rivals no longer—I congratulate you on the possession of such a treasure. Joy, and farewell to all I Bows and exit x>. in F. Joy bells again. CYRUS. What nothing! The stingy beggar! BECKY. Hold your tongue, inatgpio I AQ THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN, HILD. Gome, come, we shall be. late. JACK. That mustn't happen by no manner o' means, must it, Peg? ADAM. A word or two b^-your leave. Foretop there, (to gallery) "Here are a small fleet of vessels about to be launched on their first cruise to the port of matrimony—should any of our rigging be badly fitted, let your good nature overlook the fault; and if the waisters [to, the pit) do not carry too heavy a press upon us, with the assistance of the after guard, (to the boxes) and the propitious -gale of your applause, we trust we may anchor happily in our destined port—if you think favourably of "The Lonely Man of the Ocean." Cnrtaitt.