TROU. Pshaw! women will be inquiring. Melancholy! not I. I will sing thee a song, and the subject of it shall be the question—“What have I got under my cloak?” It is a riddle, Margaret—I learnt it of an almanac-maker at Gotha—if thou guessest it after the first stanza, thou shalt have never a drop for thy pains. Hear me—and, d’ye mark! twirl thy thingumbob while I sing. FEM. MIN. ’Tis a pretty tune, and hums dolefully. [_Plays on her balalaika._ TROU. I bear a secret comfort _here_,[278] [_Putting his hand on the bundle._ A joy I’ll ne’er impart; It is not wine, it is not beer, But it consoles my heart. FEM. MIN. [_Interrupting him._] I’ll be hang’d if you don’t mean the bottle of cherry-brandy that you stole out of the vaults in the abbey cellar. TROU. I mean!—Peace, wench; thou disturbest the current of my feelings— [FEM. MIN. _attempts to lay hold on the bottle_; TROUBADOUR _pushes her aside, and continues singing without interruption_. This cherry-bounce, this loved noyau, My drink for ever be; But, sweet my love, thy wish forego; I’ll give no drop to thee! [_Both together._] TROU. { This } cherry-bounce { this } loved noyau, F. M. { That } „ { that } „ TROU. { My } drink for ever be; F. M. { Thy } „ TROU. } But, sweet my love, { thy wish forgo! F. M. } „ { one drop bestow, TROU. { I } keep it all for { me! F. M. { Nor } „ { thee! [_Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity, the_ FEM. MIN. _appearing by degrees to obtain a superiority in the contest._ END OF ACT II. ACT THE THIRD—contains the éclaircissements and final arrangement between CASIMERE, MATILDA, and CECILIA; which so nearly resemble the concluding act of _Stella_, that we forbear to lay it before our readers. ACT IV. _Scene, the Inn door; Diligence drawn up._—CASIMERE _appears superintending the package of his portmanteaus, and giving directions to the_ PORTERS. _Enter_ BEEFINGTON _and_ PUDDINGFIELD. PUDD. Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places? COACH. Yes, your Honour. PUDD. [_seems to be struck with_ CASIMERE’S _appearance. He surveys him earnestly without paying any attention to the_ COACHMAN, _then doubtingly pronounces_] Casimere! CAS. [_turning round rapidly, recognizes_ PUDDINGFIELD, _and embraces him._] My Puddingfield! PUDD. My Casimere! CAS. What, Beefington too! [_discovering him_]—then is my joy complete. BEEF. Our fellow-traveller, as it seems!