Faulk. There again, what say you to this? you see she has been all mirth and song—not a thought of me!

Abs. Pho! man, is not music the food of love?

Faulk. Well, well, it may be so.—Pray, Mr.—, what’s his damned name?—Do you remember what songs Miss Melville sung?

Acres. Not I indeed.

Abs. Stay, now, they were some pretty melancholy purlingstream airs, I warrant; perhaps you may recollect;—did she sing, When absent from my soul’s delight?

Acres. No, that wa’n’t it.

Abs. Or, Go, gentle gales!

[Sings.

Acres. Oh, no! nothing like it. Odds! now I recollect one of them—My heart’s my own, my will is free.

[Sings.

Faulk. Fool! fool that I am! to fix all my happiness on such a trifler! ’Sdeath! to make herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle! to soothe her light heart with catches and glees!— What can you say to this, sir?

Abs. Why, that I should be glad to hear my mistress had been so merry, sir.

Faulk. Nay, nay, nay—I’m not sorry that she has been happy— no, no, I am glad of that—I would not have had her sad or sick— yet surely a sympathetic heart would have shown itself even in the choice of a song—she might have been temperately healthy, and somehow, plaintively gay;—but she has been dancing too, I doubt not!

Acres. What does the gentleman say about dancing?

Abs. He says the lady we speak of dances as well as she sings.

Acres. Ay, truly, does she—there was at our last race ball—

Faulk. Hell and the devil!—There!—there—I told you so! I told you so! Oh! she thrives in my absence!—Dancing! But her whole feelings have been in opposition with mine;—I have been anxious, silent, pensive, sedentary—my days have been hours of care, my nights of watchfulness.—She has been all health! spirit! laugh! song! dance!—Oh! damned, damned levity!

Abs. For heaven’s sake, Faulkland, don’t expose yourself so!— Suppose she has danced, what then?—does not the ceremony of society often oblige—

Faulk. Well, well, I’ll contain myself—perhaps as you say—for form sake.—What, Mr. Acres, you were praising Miss Melville’s manner of dancing a minuet—hey?

Acres. Oh, I dare insure her for that—but what I was going to speak of was her country dancing. Odds swimmings! she has such an air with her!

Faulk. Now disappointment on her!—Defend this, Absolute; why don’t you defend this?—Country-dances! jigs and reels! am I to blame now? A minuet I could have forgiven—I should not have minded that—I say I should not have regarded a minuet— but country-dances!—Zounds! had she made one in a