SCENE I. A view of a strong castle, situated in a wild mountainous country; on one side a rustic mansion-house; on the other a stone seat.

During the overture, OLD MATHEW, DORCAS, and several peasants, pass over the stage with their working tools, as returning from their labour.

CHORUS OF PEASANTS.

COME sing, come dance,
To-morrow's the day;

Come sing, come dance,

Old Matthew's wedding-day.
Yes, to-morrow, you know.
To his house we shall go,

To drink, and be gay,
To dance, sing, and play;
Away with all sorrow,
For joy comes to-morrow.

Old M. I am happy, I swear,
My D rcas, my dear,

To think that to-morrow is our wedding-day.

DUET, Dorcas and Old Mathew.

Our

Though we're sixty years old,

Let the young ones behold,

age, like our youth, is contented and gay.

CHORUS.

Come sing, come dance,
To-morrow's the day ;
Come sing, come dance,

Old Mathew's wedding-day,
Yes, to-morrow you know,
To his house we shall go,
To drink and be gay,

To dance, sing, and play;
Away with all sorrow,

For joy comes to-morrow.

[Exeunt.

MATILDA, after the last chorus, enters, led in by

ANTONIO.

Mat. Antonio, what sounds were those? Surely they were singing.

Ant. It is only the villagers who are returning from the fields; the sun is setting, and they have done their work.

Mat. Where are we now, my gentle guide?

Ant. You are not far from a great old castle, with towers and battlements, And there now, if you had your sight, you might see two soldiers on the walls with their cross-bows.

Mat. I am sadly tir'd.

Ant. Stay-this way-here is a stone-it is made into a seat-[Matilda sits.]-what a pity you cannot see the prospeet; though so wild, it is said to be as fine as any in all Germany. Now just opposite to us is a very well looking house, 'tis a farm, but as good as any gentleman's,

Mat. Then go, my little friend, and find out whether we can lodge there to-night.

Ant. I will, and no doubt you may. The owner is a foreigner, from England, as they say; and though he is very passionate, all the village say he is very good-natur'd [Going, returns.] But shall I find you here when I come back.

Mat. Yes, truly, you may be pretty sure of that; those that can't see are not over fond of wandering. But you will not fail to return?

Ant. No, that I won't. [Going, stops.] But, Sir, there is something I have been wanting all day to tell you.

Mat. Well, Antonio,---what is it?

Ant. Why it is---it is---oh! I am so sorry-Mat. Speak, child!-- -tell me what is it?--Ant. Why it is,---and it vexes me sadly---that it will not be in my power to be your guide to

morrow.

Mat. How so, my little friend?

Ant. I must go to a wedding.---My grandfa ther and grandmother keep their wedding-day to morrow, and my grandson, who is their brother

Mat. Your grandson--have you a grandson, Antonio?

Ant. No----their grandson, who is my brother, that's it---is to be married at the same time to a sweet pretty little girl of the village. Mat. But what will become of me without a guide?

Ant. Oh; I'll engage some one for you, I'll warrant! and you may contrive to come to the wedding, and join in the music, while we dance. We'll manage, never fear.

Mat. You love dancing, Antonio?

SONG. Antonio.

The merry dance I dearly love,
For then, Collette, thy hand I seize,
And press it too whene'er I please.
And none can see, and none reprove;
Then on thy cheek quick blushes glow,
And then we whisper soft and low,