should be softly sung by a concealed choir. The lady starts with surprise, stands mute and listening, until the last notes die away and the curtain falls.

A song of a boat:

There was once a boat on a billow,

Lightly she rocked to her port remote,

And the foam was white in her wake like snow,

And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blom And bent like a wand of willow.

I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat
Went courtesying over the billow;

I marked her course till, a dancing mote,
She faded out on the moonlit foam,

And I stayed behind in the dear loved home;

And my thoughts all day were about the boat,

I

And my dreams upon the pillow.

pray you hear my song of a boat,

For it is but short;

My boat, you shall find none fairer afloat,
In river or port.

Long I looked out for the lad she bore,
On the open desolate sea,

And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore,
For he came not back to me-

Ah me!

A song of a nest:

There was once a nest in a hollow,
Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed
Soft and warm, and full to the brim;
Vetches leaned over it, purple and dim,
With buttercup buds to follow.

I pray you hear my song of a nest,
For it is not long:

You shall never light in a summer quest
The bushes among-

Shall never light on a prouder sitter,
A fairer nestful, nor ever know
A softer sound than their tender twitter,
That wind-like did come and go.

I had a nestful once of my own,

Ah, happy, happy I!

Right dearly I loved them: but when they were grown They spread out their wings to fly

Oh, one after one they flew away

Far up to the heavenly blue,

To the better country, the upper day,
And I wish I was going, too.

I

pray you, what is the nest to me,
My empty nest?

And what is the shore where I stood to see
My boat sail down to the west?

Can I call that home where I anchor yet,
Though my good man has sailed?
Can I call that home where my nest was set,
Now all its hope hath failed?
Nay, but the port where my sailor went,

And the land where my nestlings be:
There is the home where my thoughts are sent,

The only home for me!

Ah me!

ADAPTED FROM JEAN INGELOW

ROMEO AND JULIET.

BALCONY SCENE.

OMEO-He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

ROMEO

1

JULIET appears on the Balcony, and sits down. But soft! What light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. "It is my lady; Oh! it is my love:

Oh, that she knew she were!"

She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her
eye discourses: I will answer it.

I am too bold. Oh, were those eyes in heaven,
They would through the airy region stream so bright,
'That birds would sing, and think it were the morn.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Juliet-Ah, me!

Romeo-She speaks, she speaks!

Oh, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven

To the up-turned wond'ring eyes of mortals,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Juliet--Oh, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo!

Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Romeo-Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Juliet-'Tis but thy name that is my enemy!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title! Romeo, quit thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

Romeo-I take thee at thy word!

Call me but love, I will forswear my name
And never more be Romeo.

Juliet-What man art thou, that, thus bescreened in night

So stumblest on my counsel?

Romeo-I know not how to tell thee who I am! My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,

Because it is an enemy to thee.

Juliet-My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound! Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Romeo-Neither, fair saint, if either thee displease. Juliet-How cam'st thou hither?-tell me and for what?

The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb;
And the place, death, considering who thou art,

If

any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Romeo-With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out;

And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

Juliet-If they do see thee here, they'll murder thee. Romeo Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords! look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Juliet-I would not, for the world, they saw thee here! By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Romeo-By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

As that vast shore washed with the furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

Juliet-Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night!
Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny
What I have spoke! But farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say-Ay,
And I will take thy word! yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries
They say, Jove laughs. Oh, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully!
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo! but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond:
And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light!
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night has so discovered.

Romeo-Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow-
Juliet-Oh! swear not by the moon, the inconstant

moon

That monthly changes in her circled orb;