_Nelly._ Not Copernicus, so fiery red? not the Great Bear?

_Peter._ Why, I don't know; I really think I do see something. No I don't, after all.

_Nelly._ Ah! then you want faith--you want faith. I, who see them all, must read them for you. Away; in three hours hence, you'll meet me here.

(_Turns away._)

_Peter._ Well, you might at least be civil; but that's not the custom of great people. What a wonderful woman, to see the stars at noonday! Well, I'll put my faith in her, at all events.

(_Exit Peter. d.i.c.k and Bill come forward with the poultry picked._)

_d.i.c.k._ Well, missus, ban't he a soft cove?

_Nelly._ I have not done with him yet.

_Bill._ Now let's get our dinner ready. The fowls be a axing for the pot.

_d.i.c.k._ And goose to be roasted.

_Bill._ No, I say; they'd smell us a mile. Your liquorice chops will transport you yet.

_d.i.c.k._ Tell ye, Bill, goose shall be roasted. May I grow honest, but it shall. I'll give up a pint--I'll sacrifice sage and innions. Eh, missus?

_Nelly._ The sooner they are out of sight the better. [_They retire; the scene closes._

_Scene III._

_A Drawing-Room in the Hall._

_Enter Admiral and Lady Etheridge._

_Lady Eth._ Indeed, Admiral, I insist upon it, that you give the brutal seaman warning; or, to avoid such a plebeian mode of expression, advertise him to depart.

_Adm._ My dear, old Barnstaple has served me afloat and ash.o.r.e these four-and-twenty years, and he's a little the worse for wear and tear. In a cutting-out affair his sword warded off the blow that would have sacrificed my life. We must overlook a little----

_Lady Eth._ Yes, that's always your way; always excusing. A serving man to appear fuddled in the presence of Lady Etheridge! faugh! And yet, not immediately to have his coat stripped off his back, and be kicked out of doors; or, to avoid the plebeian, expatriated from the portals.

_Adm._ Expatriated!

_Lady Eth._ How you take one up, Admiral. You know I meant to say expatiated.

_Adm._ Ah! that is mending the phrase, indeed. I grant that he was a little so so; but then, recollect, it was I who gave them the ale.

_Lady Eth._ Yes, that's your way, Sir Gilbert; you spoil them all. I shall never get a servant to show me proper respect. I may scold, scold, scold; or, to speak more aristocratically, vituperate, from morning till night.

_Adm._ Well, then, my dear, why trouble yourself to vituperate at all, as you call it? Keep them at a distance, and leave scolding to the housekeeper.

_Lady Eth._ Housekeeper, indeed! No, Sir Gilbert; she's just as bad as the rest. Once give her way, and she would treat me with disrespect, and cheat you in the bargain; or, less plebeianly, nefariously depropriate----

_Adm._ Appropriate, you mean, my dear.

_Lady Eth._ And appropriate I said, Admiral, did I not?

_Adm._ Why, really----

_Lady Eth._ (_raising her voice_). Did I not, Sir Gilbert?

_Adm._ Why, my dear, I suppose it was a mistake of mine. Well, my love, let them appropriate a little--I can afford it.

_Lady Eth._ You can't afford it, Sir Gilbert.

_Adm._ My dear Lady Etheridge, money can but buy us luxuries; and as I don't know a greater luxury than quiet, I am very willing to pay for it.

_Lady Eth._ You may be so, Admiral, but my duty as a wife will not permit me to suffer you to squander away your money so foolishly. Buy quiet, indeed! I would have you to know, Sir Gilbert, you must first consult your wife before you can make a purchase.

_Adm._ Yes, my lady, it is a fatal necessity.

_Lady Eth._ Fatal fal, lal. But, Sir Gilbert, you were always a spendthrift; witness the bringing up of the steward's children with your own, mixing the aristocratic streams with plebeian dregs! Sir Gilbert, the Bargroves are constantly intruding in our house, and Agnes will be no gainer by keeping such company.

_Adm._ Whose company, my dear? Do you mean Lucy Bargrove's? I wish all our fashionable acquaintance were only half so modest and so well-informed. She is a sweet girl, and an ornament to any society.

_Lady Eth._ Indeed, Sir Gilbert! Perhaps you intend to wear the ornament yourself. A second Lady Etheridge,--he, he, he! When you have vexed me to death, or, to speak more like a lady, when you have inurned my mortal remains.

_Adm._ Indeed, my lady, I have no idea of the kind. I don't want to break the fixed resolution that I have long since made, never to marry a second wife.

_Lady Eth._ I presume you mean to imply that you have had sufficient torment in the first?

_Adm._ I said not so, my dear; I only meant to remark, that I should not again venture on matrimony.

_Lady Eth._ I can take a hint, Sir Gilbert, though I don't believe you.

All husbands tell their wives they'll never marry again; but, as dead men tell no tales, so dead wives----

_Adm._ (_Aside_). Don't scold.

_Lady Eth._ What's that, Sir Gilbert?

_Adm._ Nothing--not worth repeating. But to revert to the Bargroves; I think, my dear, when you consider their father's long and faithful services, some grat.i.tude on my part----

_Lady Eth._ Which they may live not to thank you for.

_Adm._ Recollect, my dear, that the Bargroves are a very old, though decayed family. One half of this estate was, at one time, the property of their ancestors. It was lost by a suit in chancery.

_Lady Eth._ Then it never was rightfully theirs.

_Adm._ I beg your pardon there, my dear; chancery will as often take the property from, as give it to, the rightful owner. Bargrove is of a good old family, and has some money to leave to his children.

_Lady Eth._ Out of your pocket, Sir Gilbert.

_Adm._ Not so; Bargrove has a property of his own, nearly three hundred acres, which has been in the family for many years.