THE BARON.

If, in return,

Countess, I could your hand but earn!

THE COUNTESS.

I thought as much. This comes, you see,
Of sentiment, and Arcady,

Where vows are hung on every tree.

THE BARON (offering his arm, with a low bow). And no one dreams-of PERFIDY.

THE METAMORPHOSIS.

"On s'enrichit quand on dort."

SCENE.-A high stone Seat in an Alley of clipped

Lime-trees.

THE ABBÉ TIRILI.

"T

MONSIEUR L'ÉTOILE.

THE ABBÉ (writing).

HIS shepherdess Dorine adored-"

What rhyme is next? Implored?-ignored?
Poured?-soared?-afford? That facile Dunce,
L'ÉTOILE, would cap the line at once.

"Twill come in time. Meanwhile, suppose
We take a meditative doze.

(Sleeps. By-and-by his paper falls.)

M. L'ÉTOILE (approaching from the back).
Some one before me. What! 'tis you,

Monsieur the Scholar? Sleeping too!

(Picks up the fluttering paper.)

More "Tales," of course. One can't refuse

To chase so fugitive a Muse!

Verses are public, too, that fly "Cum privilegio "—Zephyri! (Reads.)

"CLITANDER AND DORINE." Insane !

He fancies he's a LA FONTAINE !
"In early Days, the Gods, we find,
Paid casual Visits to Mankind ;-
At least, authentic Records say so
In Publius Ovidius Naso."

(Three names for one. This passes all. 'Tis "furiously" classical !)

"No doubt their Purpose oft would be Some' Nodus dignus Vindice';

'On dit,' not less, these earthly Tours

Were mostly matters of Amours.
And woe to him whose luckless Flame

Impeded that Olympic Game;

Ere he could say an Ave' o'er,

They changed him-like a Louis-d'or."
("Aves," and current coinage! O!-
O shade of NICHOLAS BOILEAU !)
"Bird, Beast, or River he became:
With Women it was much the same.
In Ovid Case to Case succeeds;
But Names the Reader never reads."
(That is, Monsieur the Abbé feels
His quantities are out at heels!)

"Suffices that, for this our Tale,
There dwelt in a Thessalian Vale,

Of Tales like this the frequent Scene,
A Shepherdess, by name Dorine.

Trim Waist, ripe Lips, bright Eyes, had she ;-
In short,-the whole Artillery.

Her Beauty made some local Stir ;—

Men marked it. So did Jupiter.

This Shepherdess Dorine adored.

Implored, ignored, and soared, and poured— (He's scrawled them here!)

His fable on his second leaf.

(Writes.)

We'll sum in brief

There, they shall know who 'twas that wrote:"L'ÉTOILE's is but a mock-bird's note."

THE ABBÉ (waking).

Implored's the word, I think. But where,

Where is my paper? Ah! 'tis there!

[Exit.

Eh! what?

(Reads.)

THE METAMORPHOSIS.

(not in Ovid.)

"The Shepherdess Dorine adored
The Shepherd-Boy Clitander;
But Jove himself, Olympus' Lord,
The Shepherdess Dorine adored.

Our Abbe's Aid the Pair Implored ;—
And changed to Goose and Gander,
The Shepherdess Dorine adored
The Shepherd-Boy Clitander!"

L'ÉTOILE,—by all the Muses!

Peste!

He 's off, post-haste, to tell the rest.
No matter. Laugh, Sir Dunce, to-day;
Next time 'twill be my turn to play.