JOHN HOWARD PAYNE, WASHINGTON IRVING
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ing)—poor Philip! What! I'm going again, like the other night—(wiping his eyes). Psha! let's change the subject, because, d'ye see, sensibility and all that, it does me no good—none—so let's talk of something else. What makes thee so silent of late, my girl? I've not heard a song from thee these three days!
Mary. It's three days since I've seen my music-master.
Copp. Well, and can't you sing without him?
Mary. Without him I can't sing well.
Copp. And what's become of him?
Mary (pettishly). I can't tell, it's very tiresome. If he did not mean to come again, he might have said so.
Copp. Oddsfish, neglect thee—neglect his duty I—I'll break him on the spot. Thou shalt have another master, my girl.
Mary (eagerly). Oh, no, on no account; I dare say he is not well, some accident has happened. Besides, there is no other teacher in town equal to him, he sings with such feeling.
Copp. Ah! girl, if I had my old messmate. Jack Rattlin, here, he'd teach thee to sing. He had a voice—faith it would make all the bottles dance, and glasses jingle on the table!—Talk of feeling! Why, when Jack would sit of an evening on the capstan when on watch, and sing about sweethearts and wives, and jolly tars, and true lover's knots, and the roaring seas, and all that; smite my timbers, but it was enough to melt the heart of a grampus. Poor Jack, he taught me the only song I ever knew, it's a main good one though—
(Sings a Stave.)
In the time of the Rump,
As old Admiral Trump,
With his broom swept the chops of the Channel:
And his crew of Tenbreeches,
Those Dutch sons of
Mary (putting her hand on his mouth). Oh, uncle, uncle, don't sing that horrible rough song.
Copp. Rough? that's the beauty of it. It rouses one up, pipes all hands to quarters like a boatswain's call. Go in, Mary, but go in at the other door; don't go near the bar: go up to your own room, my dear, and your music-master will come to you presently, never fear.
(Exit Mary.)
Voice, within. Hollo—house! waiter! Captain Copp! another bottle, my hearty fellow.
Copp. There they go again! I can't stand it any longer. I am an old cruiser, and can't hear an engagement without longing to be in the midst of it. Avast, though (stopping short), these lads are spending too much money. Have a care, friend Copp, don't sink the sailor in the publican; don't let a free-hearted tar ruin himself in thy house—no, no, faith. If they want more wine they shall have it; but they shall drink as messmates, not as guests. So have at you, boys; it's my turn to treat now.—
(Exit Copp.)
Scene 2. A Room in Copp's House.
(Enter Mary.)
Mary. How provoking this absence of Mr. Georgini! It would be serving him right to let my uncle discharge him: but then I should like just to learn that song he is teaching me—hark!—How my heart beats! Hark! I'll wager it's Georgini—I have a gift of knowing people before I see them—my heart whispers me—
(Enter Edward, as Georgini.)
Mary. So, sir, you are come at last, are you? I had supposed you did not intend to come any more, and was about to look out for another teacher.
Edw. Pardon me for my absence—you have no idea what I have suffered.
Mary (with anxiety). Suffered!—Have you been ill, then?
Edw. Very ill—
Mary. Indeed! and what was your complaint?
Edw. (smiling). The not seeing you.
Mary (half piqued, half pleased). Mighty fine, sir; it is a complaint that you might have cured in a moment.—I have been angry, sir—very angry at your neglect—don't smile, sir— I won't be laughed at—
Edw. Laugh at you!—Can you suspect me of such a thing?—I do but smile from the pleasure of seeing you again—nothing but circumstances that I could not control caused my absence.
Mary (softening). Well, it's very provoking to be interrupted in one's lessons just in the middle of a new song—I'll
