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CHARLES THE SECOND
training. Oh! you should see how busy I am, particularly among the roses.
Lady C. I have no doubt your majesty has an eye for every fresh one that blows.—But, how quiet you have been in these pursuits!
Chas. One does not want all the world to know of one's caprices. But what has procured me the pleasure of seeing your ladyship so early?
Lady C. The queen, sire, knowing how deeply you were immersed in affairs of state, last night, sent me to enquire how your majesty had slept.
Chas. Very restless—very restless—I tumbled and tossed about sadly.
Lady C. Ah! why does not your majesty take more care of yourself? You devote yourself too much to your people. This night-work will be too much for you.
Chas. Why, yes, if it were often as severe as last night.
Lady C. Indeed, your majesty must give up these midnight labours to your ministers.
Chas. (apart). To my ministers, ha! ha! Egad! I should like to see old Clarendon and Ormond hob or nobbing with uncle Copp, struggling for kisses with Mary, and scouring the lanes of Wapping at full speed.—(aloud). Well, my Lady Clara, have you anything further to communicate?
Lady C. Might I presume, I have a favour to request of your majesty. An author, in whose cause I take a warm interest, has offended a person high in power, and is threatened with a prosecution.
Chas. The blockhead! let him write against me only, and they'll never trouble him.
Lady C. His pardon depends upon your majesty—would you but deign to sign it!
Chas. (Apart.) Sinner that I am, it would but ill become me to be severe.—(Aloud.) Lady Clara, you look amazingly well this morning—I can refuse you nothing.—(Signs the paper.) And now, to make my toilette—(aside)—Safe at last! she suspects nothing.
Lady C. (smiling). He thinks he has deceived me.—Oh, these men, these men! how they will impose upon us easy, simple, knowing women!
(Exeunt Lady Clara and Edward.)
(Enter Copp and Mary.)
Copp. Oddsfish! I never knew such a piece of work to get into a house before. If that good-looking gentlewoman had not seen us from the window, and taken our part, hang me, if I don't think they would have turn'd us adrift.
Mary. What beautiful rooms!
Copp. Gingerbread finery! I would not change the bar-room of the Grand Admiral for the best of them. But what a bother to give a watch back to the right owner! Why, there's no finding the king in his own house.—Now, for my part, I always stand on the threshold, and if any one comes, there's my hand.—Tip us your bone, says I, and make yourself welcome.—That's what I call acting like a king of good fellows.
Mary. Oh, uncle, I have always heard say, that the king is very kind and affable; and, I dare say, when you hand him back his watch, he will behave with generosity.
Copp. Generosity! Why, dost think, girl, I'd take a reward? No, no!—They say Charley's not overstocked with the shiners.—I want none of them. To be sure, he may do the civil thing—he may ask us to stay, and take pot-luck, perhaps.
Mary. Pot-luck, uncle!
Copp. Ay, in a friendly way, d'ye see? And I don't care if I did, if it were only to see how royalty messed. But, where the deuce is the king to be found? Oh! yonder is a fine gimcrack young gentleman, who, perhaps, can tell us—I'll hail him. Yo-ho! messmate!
(Exit, hallooing after Edward.)
Mary. What a beautiful place this is! But, without content, grandeur is not to be envied. The humble and the good, may be as happy in a cottage as a palace.
Recitative—Mary.
Thrice beautiful! Alas! that here
Should ever come a frown or tear;
But not beneath the gilded dome
Hath happiness its only home.
Not in the pictured halls,
Not amid marble walls
Will young Love dwell.
Love's home's the heart alone,
That heart, too, all his own.
Else, Love, farewell!
(Enter Copp, pulling in Edward, who tries to hide his face.)
Copp. Come along, young man—don't be so bashful—you need n't mind us.
Edw. (aside). Let me put on a steady
