never separate; and as you have quoted a verse, hear mine "Oh, what was love made for, if 'tis not the same, Through joy and through sorrow, through glory and shame, I know not, I ask not—" But let me skip to the other verse— "Thou hast called me thy angel, in moments of bliss," Mr. L. So I did, and in sincerity, too. "Still thy angel I'll be 'mid the horrors of this; Thro' the furnace unshrinking, thy steps to pursue, Mr. L. Moore is a true lover, as well as a poet, but, my dear, we must not take fiction for reality. Our loves, Maria, are linked by a stronger chain together than those made up of the shreds and patches of idle romance; it is founded upon mutual esteem, which establishes love in the heart forever. Yet Kirk White has written some pretty lines on romance, beginning, if I remember, with— "Oh, thou who in my early youth, When fancy wore the garb of truth, I forget the rest. Mrs. L. Give me a kiss, love. Remember Ovid's definition of a kiss. Mr. L. Ovid, my love, was a libertine, and his associates were of that kind who disbelieved in the existence of virtue. Mrs. L. There, my love, is affection's kiss. Now, William, read to me. Mr. L. What shall I read-the "Invisible Man?" Mrs. L. No; I hate invisible men. Mr. L. The "Last Man ?" an excellent work by Mrs. Shelley. Mrs. L. No; I don't like "last men." Mr. L. "The Unfortunate Man," "The Headsman," or the "Bondsman ?" Mrs. L. My dear you have made choice of men enough, but not one to my liking. Read me some passages from Romeo and Juliet. Mr. L. By all means. Johnson expresses himself in halfway praise in speaking of this play; he says: "His comic strains are happily wrought, but his pathetic strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations." But let me read-ah, here is a beautiful passage: "She speaks, yet she says nothing." Mr. L. Not with her tongue, but hear the poet- "Two of the fairest stars, in all the heaven, Then it must be in the star chamber, I suppose. Mrs. L. William, do read correct. Mr. L. I am reading correct. do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres, till they return—” Mrs. L. Till who returns? Mr. L. The committee from the star chamber. But to proceed Mrs. L. Light break the window! You are certainly wrong. Mr. L. Mrs. L. Mr. L. Oh, yes- "The light through yonder window breaks It is the east, and Juliet has a son." Juliet, the young and childish Juliet, a son? No; I am wrong: "And Juliet is the sun! Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief." Mrs. L. My love, please lay the book aside; for unless you go regularly through with Romeo and Juliet, I would rather not hear it; and now I remember, refer to Macbeth, the murder scene, and read a portion of it to me; it is in act 2d, scene 2d. Mr. L.-(Reads) "That which hath made them drunk, Hath made me bold; What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire." Mrs. L. Thus spake Lady Macbeth. Now, my dear, are we to understand that she drank the same liquor that the followers of the King drank, or help'd herself out of another bottle. Mr. L. We are to understand, my dear, that they had a carouse, for in a preceding scene we read "The King's a-bed; he hath been in unusual pleasure, And sent forth great largesses." Which means bounty; it is therefore presumed that Lady Macbeth drank to the king, as he to her, for he sends her a diamond ring, as a mark of his royal esteem, &c. Mrs. L. Then she drank, and was bold: no wonder she urged her husband on to crime. Mr. L. You place Lady Macbeth in a new light; but I will read no more. Shall I ring for John to order the carriage? Mrs. L. I would rather walk, my love; the afternoon is fine, and I think it looks more affectionate for man and wife to be seen together, arm in arm; let us promenade up Broadway and return by the Battery; and you know, my love, you promised to call on Mr. C—, to look at his new style piano; and, my dear, you must not forget the harp. Mr. L. Forget, my sweet! nothing that is associated with you or your pleasures; to render you happy is my ENTER JOHN. John. Mrs. and Misses Jenkins. Mr. L. Admit them. They are the kind of people I like. Mrs. L. Not as fashionable as I would wish, in every other respect clever people. ENTER MRS. JENKINS AND FOUR MISS JENKINS.-A General Congratulation. [End of First Part-Between First and Second a lapse of eight years.] PART II. A wretched hut, or hovel in the suburbs of New York— Mrs. Lovely, and two ragged children, the former making shirts for the "Benevolent Society," at ten cents apiece: every thing denoting poverty. Mrs. L. A place where congregate the idle and the dissipated, for the purpose of injuring themselves and ruining their families; an ale-house is the gate to purgatory, through which all must pass who worship at the shrine of Bacchus. 1st child. Do they pay toll, mother? Mrs. L. Ha! ha! toll?-Aye, with their soul's everlasting damnation. 1 2d child. O, here comes papa-he sick, he no stand. ENTER MR. LOVELY, (intoxicated.) Mr. L. What, no table set yet? no dinner? what are you about, Mrs. Lovely, sitting here all day, doing nothing? damnation! if I put up with it any longer. You are lessening the dignity of my family, Mrs. Lovely. Mrs. L. Who supports the family and its fallen dignities? who puts the bread in their mouths, do you ? Mr. L. How can I? Have I not tried to get a situation [hiccup] time after time? Mrs. L. No doubt, and the reason why you do not succeed, is because you solicit one when drunk. Mr. L. Dr-dru-drunk, Mrs. Lovely? This is an insult no man of honor can, or should put up with. You must |