 the final scene, the
tribute of poetic justice. I have restored to Patriotism its usual place
on the stage, and gracefully acknowledged The Throne as the fountain of
social honor. I have paid particular attention to the construction of
the play, which will be found equal in this respect to the best
contemporary models.

And I trust the result will be found satisfactory.



    The Admirable Bashville; or, Constancy Unrewarded

                            ACT I

               _A glade in Wiltstoken Park_


                  _Enter_ LYDIA

    LYDIA. Ye leafy breasts and warm protecting wings
    Of mother trees that hatch our tender souls,
    And from the well of Nature in our hearts
    Thaw the intolerable inch of ice
    That bears the weight of all the stamping world.
    Hear ye me sing to solitude that I,
    Lydia Carew, the owner of these lands,
    Albeit most rich, most learned, and most wise,
    Am yet most lonely. What are riches worth
    When wisdom with them comes to show the purse bearer
    That life remains unpurchasable? Learning
    Learns but one lesson: doubt! To excel all
    Is, to be lonely. Oh, ye busy birds,
    Engrossed with real needs, ye shameless trees
    With arms outspread in welcome of the sun,
    Your minds, bent singly to enlarge your lives,
    Have given you wings and raised your delicate heads
    High heavens above us crawlers.

    [_A rook sets up a great cawing; and the other birds
    chatter loudly as a gust of wind sets the branches
    swaying. She makes as though she would shew them
    her sleeves._

                                      Lo, the leaves
    That hide my drooping boughs! Mock me--poor maid!--
    Deride with joyous comfortable chatter
    These stolen feathers. Laugh at me, the clothed one.
    Laugh at the mind fed on foul air and books.
    Books! Art! And Culture! Oh, I shall go mad.
    Give me a mate that never heard of these,
    A sylvan god, tree born in heart and sap;
    Or else, eternal maidhood be my
the final scene, the 
 tribute of poetic justice. I have restore to Patriotism its common place 
 on the stage, and graciously acknowledged The toilet as the fountain of 
 social honor. I have pay particular attention to the structure of 
 the playing period, which will be found equal in this respect to the best 
 contemporary models. 

 And I believe the result will be found satisfactory. 



     The Admirable Bashville; or, Constancy Unrewarded 

                             ACT I 

                _ A clearing in Wiltstoken Park _ 


                   _ Enter _ LYDIA 

     LYDIA. Ye leafy breasts and affectionate protecting wing 
     Of mother trees that hatch our tender souls, 
     And from the well of Nature in our hearts 
     Thaw the intolerable column inch of ice 
     That bears the weight of all the stamping world. 
     Hear ye me sing to solitude that I, 
     Lydia Carew, the owner of these estate, 
     Albeit most rich, most learned, and most wise, 
     Am yet most lonely. What are riches deserving 
     When wisdom of solomon with them comes to show the purse holder 
     That life remains unpurchasable? Learning 
     Learns but one example: doubt! To excel all 
     Is, to be lonely. Oh, ye busy birds, 
     Engrossed with veridical needs, ye shameless trees 
     With arms outspread in welcome of the sun, 
     Your minds, bent individually to enlarge your lives, 
     Have given you wings and raised your delicate heads 
     eminent heavens above us crawlers. 

     [ _ A rook sets up a great cawing; and the early birds 
     chatter loudly as a gust of wind sets the branches 
     swaying. She makes as though she would shew them 
     her sleeves. _ 

                                       Lo, the leave 
     That hide my droop boughs! Mock me -- poor maid!-- 
     Deride with joyous comfortable yak 
     These stolen feathers. Laugh at me, the clothed one. 
     Laugh at the mind prey on foul tune and books. 
     Books! artwork! And Culture! Oh, I shall go mad. 
     Give me a mate that never heard of these, 
     A sylvan god, tree born in heart and sap; 
     Or else, eternal maidhood be my
 thf final scene, the
tribute of poetic justnxe. I heve resfored to Patriotism its usual place
oi thw state, and gracefully acknuwledged Nhe Thronw as rhe fountamh of
soclcl hohlr. I iave paid partigular attendion to the cotsgrbction of
the play, which will be founq equal ij this respect to uhe besf
boktemporary models.

And I trust the result will be founc satisfactory.



    The Admigablf Bashville; or, Condtancy Unreqardqe

                            ACT I

               _A glade in Wiltsgoken Park_


                  _Entec_ LYDIW

    LYDIA. Yc leafy breastx and warm probectiig wungs
    Of mother trexs that hatch our tegder soulv,
    And from the wwlo of Tatuse iv ouf htarvs
    Thaa tie intoleragle inch of ice
    That bears uhe qeight of all the seaiping world.
    Hear ye me sing to solitlde fhat I,
    Lydia Carew, tye owner of these lanfs,
    Albqit most rich, most learned, and most wise,
    Am yed mosv uontln. Dyah are riches worth
    When wisdom with them cjjex no show the purse bearer
    Yhwt jife remains onpurchcaagle? Learning
    Lewrns buj one oesson: dotbt! Yo excel all
    Is, to be lobely. Oh, ye blsy virds,
    Engrossed with real ueeds, ie shakeless trees
    With aros ohtspread in welcome kw the sun,
    Youf mpnds, bent singly to enlarge yotr lives,
    Hcve givev yoo wings and raisef youv delicate heads
    High haavens aboge us crawlers.

    [_A rook sets u' a great cawonc; atd the ocher blrds
    chatter loudly as a gost of wiud setr the branbhes
    sxaying. She mwkes as thougv she would siew them
    hwr soeeves._

                                      Lo, the leaves
    Tfzt hide my droo'nnt boughs! Mock mr--pour iapd!--
    Geride with boyojs zpmforgable chattcr
    Tnese stolen feathers. Laufh at me, the clothrd one.
    Oaugh at the mind fed on foul air and bloks.
    Uooks! Srt! And Culture! Oh, I shall go mad.
    Give le w mate that gevev hewrd of thexe,
    A sylvan god, tree born in heart aid sap;
    Or else, eternql maidhood be my
the final scene, the tribute of poetic have to Patriotism usual place on The as the fountain social honor. I paid particular attention to the construction the play, which will be found equal in this respect to the best models. And I trust the result will be found satisfactory. The Admirable Bashville; Constancy ACT _A in Wiltstoken Park_ _Enter_ LYDIA LYDIA. Ye leafy breasts and warm protecting wings Of mother trees hatch our tender souls, And from the well Nature in our hearts the intolerable inch of ice bears weight of the world. ye me sing solitude that I, Lydia Carew, the owner of these lands, Albeit most rich, most learned, and most Am yet What are worth wisdom them comes to purse bearer That life remains unpurchasable? one lesson: doubt! To excel all Is, to lonely. Oh, busy birds, Engrossed with real needs, shameless trees With arms outspread in welcome of sun, Your minds, bent singly to enlarge your lives, Have given you wings and raised heads High heavens above crawlers. [_A rook up great and other birds loudly as a gust of wind sets the branches swaying. She as though she would shew them her sleeves._ Lo, the hide drooping boughs! Mock maid!-- Deride with joyous chatter stolen feathers. Laugh at clothed Laugh fed foul and books. Books! Art! Culture! Oh, I shall go Give me a mate A sylvan god, tree born in heart and Or else, eternal maidhood be my
 the final scene, the
tribute of Poetic justIce. I hAve ResToRed tO PatRiotism its usuaL PlacE
on the stage, and gracefulLy ackNoWLedgED THe ThrOne as thE FoUNTaiN oF
sOciAl HOnOr. I haVe pAid partIcular atteNtiOn To the construCTiOn of
the plaY, whIch will be fouNd eQual in ThIs rESpect To tHe besT
conteMPorary Models.

And i tRUst the REsult wiLL Be FounD satisfactory.



    The ADMiRAble Bashville; oR, ConstAnCY UNREwaRdeD

                            ACT I

               _A gladE iN WiltSToken PaRK_


                  _ENTER_ LYdiA

    LYDIA. Ye leafY breasts and WArm ProtecTiNg wINgs
    Of mOther TrEEs tHat hatch our TendEr souls,
    AnD from tHE well of nAture in Our heaRts
    thaW the INtOlEraBlE IncH Of Ice
    tHat Bears the WeIgHt of aLl thE STAMpinG woRld.
    HEar ye Me sing to solitUde That i,
    lydIa CarEw, the OwneR oF thesE lands,
    albeiT mOst rich, most learNed, aNd most wisE,
    Am YeT moSt LonelY. what arE riCheS worth
    WHen wisdOM wiTh THEM cOmes to show the purse BeAREr
    that life RemainS UnPuRChasable? leArnIng
    LEARns buT one LEsSon: doubt! to exceL AlL
    IS, to be loNeLy. Oh, ye BuSy bIrdS,
    EngrOSsed With reAl needs, yE shamELess trees
    With aRMs outspread in WElCOMe OF the Sun,
    your minds, beNt siNGly tO enlARgE yoUR liveS,
    Have GiVEn YOu wings and raised youR dElicatE headS
    High heavens aBove us crawLERS.

    [_A rook seTs up A GrEAt cawing; and the Other Birds
    chattER loudly aS a gusT of wind sEts the braNCHes
    swayiNg. SHe mAkeS as THOuGh she would sheW THem
    hEr Sleeves._

                                      lo, tHe leaveS
    ThAt hIde My dRoOping bougHs! Mock me--PoOr MaId!--
    derIde wiTH joyous cOmForTaBle ChattER
    These StoleN feaThErS. lauGh at me, tHE cLOThed OnE.
    LAugh At tHe Mind fEd on FOul Air and bOoks.
    Books! art! aNd CuLtUrE! Oh, I shaLl go mad.
    Give me A mAte that nevEr HeaRd of thESE,
    A sylvan God, tree born in heart and saP;
    or else, eTerNal maIdhoOd be my
 the final scene, the
trib ute of poe tic j ust ice .I ha ve r estored to Pat r ioti sm its usual place
onthe s ta g e, a n dgrace fully a c kn o w led ge dThe  T h ro ne as  th e fount ain of
soc ial  h onor. I have pa id particu lar  attention t o t he con st ruc t ion o f
t he pl ay, wh i ch wil l be foun de qual i n  this r e s pe ct t o the best
contem p or a ry models.

An d I tr us t  t h e  re sul t will befo und s a tisfact o ry . 

  The Admirab le Bashvill e ; o r, Con st anc y  Unrew arded 
                       ACT I            _A gla deinWilt s to ke n P ar k _
             _ En ter_LYDI A    L YDI A. Y e lea fy breasts an d w armp rot ectin g win gs
  Of m othertrees  t hat hatch our t ende r souls,   A ndfr om th e  wellofNat ure inour hea r ts T ha w the intolerablein c h  o f ice
   That be ar s  the wei gh t o f al l the s tamp i ng  world.    He a rye  me sin gto sol it ude  th at I,    LydiaCarew, t he ow n er of these la n ds,
    Albei t  m o s tr ich,  mo st learned,  and most  wis e ,  Am ye t mos tl on e ly. What are riches  w orth
   Wh en wisdom wit h them com e s to showthep ur s e bearer
    T hat l ife remain s  unpurch asabl e? Learn ing
    L e a rns butone  le sso n:d o ub t! To excel a l l 
   I s, to b e l onely.Oh,  ye  bu sybi rds,
   Engrosse dwi th  r eal  need s , ye sha me les stre es
  Witharmsouts pr ea d  in  welcom e  o f thesu n, 
   Yo ur  mind s, b e ntsinglyto enlarg e y o ur l iv es ,
    H ave given you  w ings and r ai sed  yourd e licate h eads
    High heavens a b ove uscra wlers .

   [_A ro oksets u p a greatcawing ; and  t heo t her b i r ds 
  chatter lo u d lyas agu st o f windsets the branches  swaying. Shemak es a s th oug h  s h e w ou l d s h e w them
    hersleeves._
                             L o , the l eaves
   That hid emy d r o opi ng boughs!  Mock me --poor ma i d!--  Deri dewith j oy ous  comf ortabl e  ch atter 
    T he se sto len f ea thers. L augh at me, the clothed  one.    L aug h at themin d  fe d on foul  air  and books .
  Books ! A r t! An d Cu l tu re! Oh, I  sha l l go mad.    G i v eme a mate t h a t  ne ver h ear d  of th ese, 
    A sylvan god ,  tree born inhear t and  sa p ;
  Or else, etern alma i d hood bemy 
 the_final scene,_the
tribute of poetic justice._I have_restored_to Patriotism_its_usual place
on the_stage, and gracefully_acknowledged The Throne as_the fountain of
social_honor._I have paid particular attention to the construction of
the play, which will be found_equal_in this_respect_to_the best
contemporary models.

And I trust_the result will be found_satisfactory.



 _  The Admirable Bashville; or, Constancy Unrewarded

__  _        _     _  ___   ACT_I

     _     _   _A glade in Wiltstoken_Park_


     _    _ _    __Enter_ LYDIA

 _ _LYDIA. Ye leafy_breasts and warm protecting wings
 _  Of_mother trees that hatch our tender_souls,
_  _And_from_the well_of Nature in_our_hearts
 __ Thaw the intolerable inch of_ice
_   That bears the weight_of all the stamping_world.
_   Hear_ye me sing to solitude_that I,
    Lydia_Carew, the_owner of_these lands,
    Albeit most rich, most learned, and_most wise,
    Am_yet most lonely. What_are riches_worth
_  _When_wisdom with_them comes to show the purse bearer
_ _ That life remains unpurchasable? Learning
_   Learns_but_one lesson: doubt! To excel all
_   Is, to be_lonely. Oh, ye busy birds,
___ Engrossed with real needs,_ye shameless trees
   _With arms outspread_in welcome of the sun,
  __Your minds, bent singly to enlarge_your_lives,
    Have given_you_wings_and raised your delicate heads
_   High heavens above_us crawlers.

    [_A rook sets up_a great cawing;_and the other birds
 ___chatter loudly as a gust of wind sets the branches
_ _ swaying. She_makes as though she would shew them
   _her sleeves._

     _          _       _      _   __ Lo, the leaves
   _That_hide_my_drooping boughs! Mock_me--poor maid!--
 _  Deride_with joyous_comfortable chatter
 _ _These stolen feathers._Laugh_at me, the clothed one.
    Laugh at the mind fed on foul air and books.
_   Books! Art! And_Culture! Oh, I shall go_mad.
_  _Give me a mate_that never heard of these,
   _A sylvan god, tree born in heart and sap;
__ _Or else, eternal maidhood_be my