ページの画像
PDF
ePub

another. He who is unjust to himself, or less than just, breaks a law as well as he who hurts his neighbor. I tell you what I am and what I have done, that your trust for the future may not rest upon ignorant grounds.

If I am more than just to myself, rebuke me. If I have overstepped the modesty that became me, I am open to your censure and will bear it. But I have spoken that you may know your Queen-not only by her acts, but by her admitted principles. I tell you then that I am ambitious-that I crave dominion, and while I live will reign. Sprung from a line of kings, a throne is my natural seat. I love it. But I strive, too— you can bear me witness that I do that it shall be, while I sit upon it, an honored, unpolluted seat. If I can, I will hang a yet brighter glory around it.

But see! the Roman Ambassadors approach: let us forth and meet them in the council hall. Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

HEY say to-night is Christmas Eve, and, high as I

could reach,

I've hung my stockings on the wall, and left a kiss on

each.

I left a kiss on each for Him who'll fill my stockings

quite:

He never came before, but oh, I'm sure He will to-night.

And to-morrow'll be the day our blessed Christ was born, Who came on earth to pity me, whom many others scorn.

And why it is they treat me so indeed I can not tell, But while I love Him next to you, then all seems wise and well.

I long have looked for Christmas, mother,—waited all the year;

And very strange it is indeed to feel its dawn so near; But to-morrow'll be the day I so have prayed to see, And I long to sleep and wake, and find what it will bring to me.

The snow is in the street, and through the window all the day

I've watched the little children pass: they seemed so glad and gay!

And gayly did they talk about the gifts they would

receive;

Oh, all the world is glad to-night, for this is Christmas Eve!

And, mother, on the cold, cold floor I've put my little

shoe,

The other's torn across the toe, and things might there slip through;

I've set my little shoe, mother, and it for you shall be, For I know that He'll remember you while He remem bers me.

So lay me in my bed, mother, and hear my prayers aright. He never came before, but oh, I'm sure He will to-night [Curtain drops.]

SCENE II.-Midnight.

Mother knitting or mending. Child in night-dress sits erect in bed

Child.

Mother, is it the morning yet? I dreamed that it was

here;

I thought the sun shone through the pane, so blessed and so clear.

I dreamed my little stockings there were full as they could hold.

But it's hardly morning yet, mother, it is so dark and cold.

I dreamed the bells rang from the church where the happy people go,

And they rang good-will to all men in a language that I know.

I thought I took from off the wall my little stockings there,

And on the floor I emptied them,—such sights there never were!

A doll was in there, meant for me, just like those little girls

Who always turn away from me; and oh, it had such

curls!

I kissed it on its painted cheek; my own are not so sweet, Though people used to stop to pat and praise them in the street.

And, mother, there were many things that would have pleased you, too;

For He who had remembered me had not forgotten you. But I only dreamed 't was morning, and yet 't is far away, Though well I know that He will come before the early

day.

So I will put my dream aside, though I know my dream was true,

And sleep, and dream my dream again, and rise at more

with you.

[Curtain drops.]

SCENE III.-Christmas Morn.

Mother sitting at table, head resting on her hand.

Mother.

All night have I waked with weeping till the bells are ringing wild,

All night have I waked with my sorrow, and lain in my tears, like a child.

For over against the wall, as empty as they can be, The limp little stockings hang, and my heart is breaking in me!

Your vision was false as the world, oh, darling dreamer and dear!

And how can I bear you to wake, and find no Christmas here?

Better

you and I were asleep in the slumber whence none may start.

And oh, those empty stockings! I could fill them out of my heart!

No Christmas for you or for me, darling; your kisses were all in vain ;

I have given your kisses back to you over and over again; I have folded you to my breast with a moaning no one

hears:

Your heart is happy in dreams, though your hair is damp with my tears.

I am out of heart and hope; I am almost out of my mind; The world is cruel and cold, and only Christ is kind; And much must be borne and forborne; but the heaviest burden of all

That ever hath lain on my life are those little light things on the wall.

The bells have ceased their ringing, and-footsteps ap proach my door!

(Door opens, and a basket of food, a bundle of clothing, and toys for the little girl brought in.)

Dear Lord, thou hast not forgotten, for some one remem bers the poor.

(The gifts are displayed. The daughter appears.) For me and mine these treasures! Have my eyes mis taken the light?

The sun will now shine warmer, and the fire burn brighter to-night.

ADAPTED FROM A. W. BELLAW BY J. W. SHOEMAKER.

AUNT BETSEY AND LITTLE DAVY.

From Dickens' David Copperfield.

CHARACTERS.

AUNT BETSEY.-A lady of sixty, with gray hair, rather handsome features, quick, bright eye, slender, straight, active, and peculiar-dress of black or lavender, with plain, narrow, untrimmed skirt, low shoes, turn-down linen collar and cuffs, short, plain apron, white cap with high front frill, over which is tied a large silk handkerchief; pair of gardening gloves and gardening knife in hand.

DAVID.-Slender, timid child of nine or ten years; in first scene, with face, hands, and neck sun browned, shirt, trowsers, and hat and shoes soiled and torn, features and clothing covered with chalk-like dust.

MR. DICK.-A fleshy, florid, smiling, gray-haired man of forty, with high standing collar and stiff, wide cravat, loose gray coat and waistcoat, white trousers; somewhat stooped at the neck, one eye frequently closed, watch in fob, money loose in pocket, and for which he shows his fondness by frequent jingling. JANET.-Plump, healthy, good-natured servant girl, clad in neat, figured muslin dress.

MR. MURDSTONE.-In suit of black, high silk hat, black hair and heavy black whiskers, lowering black eye-brows, thin lips, pressed close together; deep, hard voice,

MISS MURDSTONE.-Much resembling her brother in features and voice, clad in plain, black riding dress, close bonnet, with veil thrown back; she carries a parasol and a bag with a heavy chain and clasp.

SCENE I.

Room in Aunt Betsey's house, tastefully furnished with sofa, table, chairs, screen, etc.

Curtain rises.-Aunt Betsey discovered at an open door, and Davy in his woe-begone condition standing timidly before her.

Aunt B. shaking her head and making a chop in, the

« 前へ次へ »