T. O'K. (solus). Let me see; I can never be a doctor either, without some sort of a wig. Oh, here is one-and here is my spectacles, faith. On my conscience, I'm the thing! (Puts on the wig awkwardly, and the spectacles; then sits in the doctor's chair. Dr. Wisepate knocks.) Walk in, honey. (Helps himself to chocolate and bread and butter.)

(Re-enter Dr. Wisepate, bowing.)

Dr. W. Please your honor-(Aside.)—What assurance the fellow has!

T. O'K. Speak out, young man, and don't be bashful. (Eating, &c.)

Dr. W. Please your honor, my lady sends her respectful compliments hopes your honor is well.

T. O'K. Pretty well, pretty well, I thank you.

Dr. W. And has desired me to deliver your honor this letter. T. O'K. That letter, well, why don't you bring it to me? Pray, am I to rise from the table?

Dr. W. So, he's acting my character with a vengeance. But I'll humor him. (Aside.) There, your honor. (Gives the letter, bowing.)

T.O'K. (Opens the letter and reads.)

"Sir-Since my dear Flora has given you so much uneasiness-Och, by my shoul, that's no lie-I beg leave to inform you that a gentleman shall call either to-day or to-morrow for her. If it should rain, I request the poor thing may have a― what's this?-C o a-coat!-coat, no-coach. Yours." E Hem! well-no answer's required, young man.

Dr. W. His impudence has struck me almost dumb. (Aside.) No answer, your honor?

T. O'K. No, my good fellow-but come here-let me look at you. Oh, you seem very wet. Why it's you, I understand, who brought this troublesome cur a few days ago: you have been often backwards and forwards, but I could never see you till now. Hollo, Robert! where's my lazy good-for-nothing servant? Robert! (Rings a bell.)

Dr. W. Eh! what the deuce does he mean? (Aside.)

(Enter Robert, who stares at them both.)

Rob. Eh!-Did-did you call, sir? (To Dr. Wisepate.) T. O'K. Yes, sirrah! Take that poor fellow down to the kitchen; he's come upon a foolish errand this cold wet day; so, do you see, give him something to eat and drink-as much

as he likes and bid my steward give him a guinea for his trouble.

Rob. Eh!

T. O'K. Tunder and ouns, fellow ! must I put my words into my mouth, and take them out again, for you? Thady (to the Doctor), my jewel, just give that blockhead of mine a rap on his sconce with your little bit of a switch, and I'll do as much for you another time.

Dr. W. So, instead of my instructing the fellow, he has absolutely instructed me. (Aside.) Well, sir, you have convinced me what Dr. Wisepate should be, and now suppose we are ourselves again.

T. O'K. (rises). With all my heart, sir. Here's your honor's wig and spectacles, and now give me my comfortable hat and switch.

Dr. W. And, Robert, obey the orders that my representative gave you.

Rob. What! carry him down to the kitchen!

T. O'K. No, young man, I shan't trouble you to carry me down; I'll carry myself down, and you shall see what a beautiful hand master O'Keen is at a knife and fork. (Exit with Robert.)

Dr. W. (solus). Well, this fellow has some humor; indeed, he has fairly turned the tables upon me. I wish I could get him to give a dose of my prescribing to her ladyship's cats and dogs, for the foolish woman has absolutely bequeathed in her will an annual sum for the care of each, after her death. Oh, dear! dear! how much more to her credit would it be to consider the present exigencies of her country, and add to the number of voluntary contributions!

OULTON.

19. SCENE FROM CATILINE.

The Senate-Lictors-The Consul—Cicero speaking.

Cic. Our long dispute must close. Take one proof more Of this rebellion.-Lucius Catiline

Has been commanded to attend the senate.

He dares not come. I now demand your votes !—

Is he condemned to exile ?

CATILINE comes in hastily, and flings himself on the bench; all the senators go over to the other side.

Cic. (turning to Catiline). Here I repeat the charge, to gods and men,

Of treasons manifold;—that, but this day,
He has received despatches from the rebels;
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul
To seize the province; nay, has levied troops,
And raised his rebel standard:-that but now
A meeting of conspirators was held

Under his roof, with mystic rites, and oaths,
Pledged round the body of a murdered slave.
To these he has no answer.

Cat. (rising calmly). Conscript fathers!

I do not rise to waste the night in words;
Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my

trade;

But here I stand for right-let him show proofs-
For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there,
Cling to your master; judges, Romans-slaves!
His charge is false; I dare him to his proofs.
You have my answer.

Let my actions speak!

Cic. (interrupting him). Deeds shall convince you! Has the traitor done?

sword,

Cat. But this I will avow, that I have scorned,
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong;
Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back,
Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts
The gates of honor on me,-turning out

The Roman from his birthright; and for what! (Looking round him.)

To fling your offices to every slave ;

Vipers that creep where man disdains to climb;

And having wound their loathsome track to the top

Of this huge moldering monument of Rome,

Hang hissing at the nobler man below.

Cic. This is his answer! Must I bring more proofs ?
Fathers, you know there lives not one of us,
But lives in peril of his midnight sword.
Lists of proscription have been handed round,
In which your general properties are made
Your murderer's hire.

(A cry is heard without―" More prisoners!" An officer enters with letters for Cicero; who, after glancing

at them, sends them round the Senate. Catiline is strongly perturbed.)

Cic. Fathers of Rome! If man can be convinced By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is!

Look on these letters! Here's a deep-laid plot

To wreck the provinces: a solemn league,
Made with all form and circumstance.

The time

Is desperate, all the slaves are up ;-Rome shakes!
The heavens alone can tell how near our graves

We stand even here!-The name of Catiline

Is foremost in the league.
Tried and convicted traitor!
Cat. (haughtily rising).
thrones:

He was their king.
go from Rome!

Come, consecrated lictors, from your
[To the Senate.

Fling down your sceptres:-take the rod and axe,
And make the murder as you make the law.

Cic. (interrupting him). Give up the record of his banish[To an officer.

ment.

(The officer gives it to the Consul.)

Cat. (indignantly). Banished from Rome! What's banished, but set free

From daily contact of the things I loathe ?

"Tried and convicted traitor!" Who says this?
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?

Banished-I thank you for it. It breaks my chain!
I held some slack allegiance till this hour-

But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords!
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities.

But here I stand and scoff you; here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face.
Your Consul's merciful.-For this, all thanks.
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.

(The Consul reads:)—"Lucius Sergius Catiline: by the decree of the Senate, you are declared an enemy and alien to the State, and banished from the territory of the Commonwealth."

The Consul. Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple!
Cat. (furious). "Traitor!" I go-but I return.

trial!

Here I devote your Senate! I've had wrongs
To stir a fever in the blood of age,

Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel.

This day's the birth of sorrows!-this hour's work

This

Will breed proscriptions :-look to your hearths, my lords!
For there, henceforth shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus !-all shames and crimes!
Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!

The Senators rise in tumult and cry out,

Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome!

Cic. Expel him, lictors! Clear the Senate-house!

[They surround him. Cat. (struggling through them). I go, but not to leap the gulf alone.

I go-but when I come, 'twill be the burst

Of ocean in the earthquake-rolling back

In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well!
You build my funeral-pile, but your best blood

Shall quench its flame. Back, slaves! (To the lictors)-I will return!

[He rushes out; the scene closes.

GEORGE CROLY

20. VAN DEN BOSCH AND VAN ARTEVELDE.

Artevelde. This is a mighty matter, Van den Bosch, And much to be revolved ere it be answered.

Van den Bosch. The people shall elect thee with one voice. I will insure the White-Hoods, and the rest

Will eagerly accept thy nomination,

So to be rid of some that they like less.
Thy name is honored both of rich and poor,