The air is charged with amatory numbers-- Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers’ lays. Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers The aching memory of the old, old days? BALLAD. Time was when Love and I were well acquainted. Time was when we walked ever hand in hand, A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted-- None better loved than I in all the land! Time was when maidens of the noblest station, Forsaking even military men, Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration. Ah me! I was a fair young curate then! Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled; Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear; Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled; And when I coughed all thought the end was near. I had no care--no jealous doubts hung o’er me; For I was loved beyond all other men. Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me. Ah me! I was a pale young curate then! [_At the conclusion of the ballad, MRS. PARTLET comes forward with CONSTANCE._ _Mrs. P._ Good day, reverend sir. _Dr. D._ Ah, good Mrs. Partlet, I am glad to see you. And your little daughter, Constance! Why, she is quite a little woman, I declare! _Con._ (_aside_). Oh, mother, I cannot speak to him! _Mrs. P._ Yes, reverend sir, she is nearly eighteen, and as good a girl as ever stepped. (_Aside to DR. D._) Ah, sir, I’m afraid I shall soon lose her! _Dr. D._ (_aside to MRS. P._). Dear me! you pain me very much. Is she delicate? _Mrs. P._ Oh no, sir; I don’t mean that; but young girls look to get married. _Dr. D._ Oh, I take you. To be sure. But there’s plenty of time for that. Four or five years hence, Mrs. Partlet, four or five years hence. But when the time _does_ come, I shall have much pleasure in marrying her myself---- _Con._ (_aside_). Oh, mother! _Dr. D._ To some strapping young fellow in her own rank of life. _Con._ (_in tears_). He does _not_ love me! _Mrs. P._ I have often wondered, reverend sir (if you’ll excuse the liberty), that _you_ have never married. _Dr. D._ (_aside_). Be still, my fluttering heart! _Mrs. P._ A clergyman’s wife does so much good in a village. Besides that, you are not so young as you were, and before very long you will want somebody to nurse you, and look after your little comforts. _Dr. D._ Mrs. Partlet, there is much truth in what you say. I am indeed getting on in years, and a helpmate would cheer my declining days. Time was when it might have been; but I have left it too long. I am an old fogey now, am I not, my dear? (_to CONSTANCE_)--a very old fogey, indeed. Ha! ha! No, Mrs. Partlet, my mind is quite made up. I shall live and die a solitary old bachelor. _Con._ Oh, mother, mother! (_Sobs on MRS. PARTLET’S bosom._)