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And, in my dying hour,
To bear the spirit up,
That all must drink at last,
Then let my soul run back,
And see that all the seeds
Have sprung up and have given
And, though no grassy mound
Where my remains repose,
Whom I have striven to bless,
May stand around my grave
And breathe a humble prayer,
Joan Tobin was born in Salisbury, England, in the year 1770. He dies lo 1304. “He passed,” says Mrs. Inchbald, “many years in the anxious labor of writing plays, which were rejected by the managers; and no sooner had they accepted · The Honey-Moon,' than he died, and never enjoyed the recompense of seeing it performed.” The Honey-Moon, however, from which we take the following dialogue, proved a splendid success. The scene is laid in Spain. The Duke of Aranza, after marrying Juliana, the proud and pretty daughter of an humble artist, takes her to a cottage in the country,
pretending that he himself is but a poor peasant, though he had w goed her in the character of a duke. The proud Juliana, after a struggle, yields, and the husband having gained his object, which was to tame her haughty spirito discloses his true rank, and conducts his bride to his palace.
SCENE FROM THE HONEY-MOON.
BALTHAZAR, and VOLANTE, sister of JULIANA.
Volunte. 'Tis her wedding day, sir ;
Bal. How bears she
Vol. Bravely, sir.
Enter Juliana, in her wedding dress.
Bal. Not come yet.
Vol. Patience, sweet sister; oft, without a murmur,
Jul. It was his duty.—Man was born to wait
Bal. Obedience, girl ?
Vol. Why, what a wire-drawn puppet you will make
Vol. Keep all the keys, and, when he bids his friends, Mete out a modicum of wine to each. Had you not better put him in a livery At once, and let him stand behind your chair? Why, I would rather wed a man of dough, Such as some school-girl, when the pie is made, To amuse her childish fancy, kneads at hazard Out of the remnant paste,-a paper man, Cut by a baby! Heaven preserve me ever From that dull blessing-an obedient husband !
Jul. And make you an obedient wife !-A thing
Bal. You talk it most heroically. Pride
Jul. Leave that to me ;-and what should I have caught,
Nor stopped my eye till I had met the man,
Bal. He comes.
Jul. For a man !
Enter the DUKE.
Duke. I do entreat your pardon ;-if you knew
Vol. Let me entreat for him.
. [Taking her hand, which she withdraws
Duke. Exquisite modesty !-Come, let us on!
[Scene after the marriage.- Enter the DUKE, leading in JULIANA.] Duke. [Brings a chair forward, and sits down.] You are
Duke. 'Tis ours.
Jul. This !-You are not in earnest, though you l'ear it With such a sober brow. Come, come, you jest !
Duke. Indeed, I jest not; were it ours in jest,
Jul. Are you serious, sir?
Jul. Am I betrayed ?-Nay, do not play the fool!
Duke. You'll find it true.
Jul. Have I been cozened ?
Duke. None but this :-
Jul. Nor money, nor effects ?
Duke. They were my friends ; who, having done my business, Are gone about their own.
Jul. Why, then, 'tis clear.
Duke. [Rises.] I am an honest man,—that may content you.
[Going Duke. You are at home already.
[Staying her Jul. I'll not endure it !-But remember this, Duke, or no duke, I'll be a duchess, sir !
Duke. A duchess! You shall be a queen,--to all Who, by the courtesy, will call you so.
Jul. And I will have attendance !
Duke. So you shall -