out Solomon and Winifred, proves, if not quite, that you are very near
an idiot! (_going._)

_Chris._ (_taking his arm._) Very--I'm very near an idiot! And yet, do
you know, upon my honour, Solomon described every thing!--from aunt
Winifred, and her great title, down to the Gothic latch'd gate, and the
little twaddling old butler who open'd it: he did--and if I could but
once--(_looking about_)--only just once--(_seeing the chateau_)--Why
that's it! by Solomon's description, that must be the very house, that
the gate, and you--he! he! he!--Come, I'm no fool now! Icod, I see who
you are.

_Oliver_ (_standing before the door._) Dolt, booby! I leave you to your
folly! But I would have you know, there are none in this house, none but
the marchioness Alberti, the countess of Roland--

_Chris._ Who?

_Oliver._ The countess of Roland, and her niece Ulrica; so that's your
final answer from the little twaddling old butler. [_Exit into
the chateau._

_Chris._ (_strutting, &c._) 'Tis she!--Aunt Winifred, by law, takes a
countess's title; and I--pshaw! I'm like other great people, I'll take
any thing!--Not so--some three score hungry, ragged relations, they'll
take possession of that beautiful tenement (_pointing to the chateau_)
and Ulrica--sweet Ulrica--will take possession of this beautiful
tenement (_himself._) And then--Oh, my dear Christopher! how you do long
for the wedding day!

SONG--_Christopher._

I.

I'll tap at her door when the morning shall break,
And with the first lark I'll be singing;
I'll whisper quite soft, "Now, my dear love, awake,
For the church bells are merrily ringing.
The bridegroom, impatient, no longer can rest:
The bridemen and bridemaids quite smartly are drest;
The drums and the fifes so cheerily play,
The shepherds all chant a gay roundelay;
With garlands of roses fair damsels advance,
The young and the old partake in the dance;
Such mirth and such rapture never were known;
I'm surpris'd that so long you will tarry:
I prithee, Ulrica--prithee, come down;
For the sport of all sports is--to marry."

II

When home we return, we'll sit down to feast,
Our friends shall behold us with pleasure;
She'll sip with my lord--I'll drink with the priest,
We'll laugh and we'll quaff without measure.
The toast and the joke shall go joyfully round,
With love and good humour the room shal