Full many a year Did he hand, reef, and steer, And by no means consider'd himself as small beer, When old Norman at length died and left him his frigate, With lots of pistoles in his coffer to rig it. A sailor ne'er moans; So, consigning the bones Of his friend to the locker of one Mr. Jones, For England he steers.-- On the voyage it appears That he rescued a maid from the Dey of Algiers; And at length reached the Sussex coast, where, in a bay, Not a great way from Brighton, most cosey-ly lay His vessel at anchor, the very same day That the Poet begins,--thus commencing his play: ACT I. Giles Gaussen accosts old Sir Maurice de Beevor, And puts the poor Knight in a deuce of a fever, By saying the boy, whom he took out to please him, Is come back a Captain on purpose to tease him.-- Sir Maurice, who gladly would see Mr. Gaussen Breaking stones on the highway, or sweeping a crossing, Dissembles--observes, It's of no use to fret,-- And hints he may find some more work for him yet; Then calls at the castle, and tells Lady A. That the boy they had ten years ago sent away Is return'd a grown man, and, to come to the point, Will put her son Percy's nose clean out of joint; But adds, that herself she no longer need vex, If she'll buy him (Sir Maurice) a farm near the Ex. "Oh! take it," she cries; "but secure every document."-- "A bargain," says Maurice,--"including the stock you meant?"-- The Captain, meanwhile, With a lover-like smile, And a fine cambric handkerchief, wipes off the tears From Miss Violet's eyelash, and hushes her fears. (That's the Lady he saved from the Dey of Algiers.) Now arises a delicate point, and this is it-- The young Lady herself is but down on a visit. She's perplex'd; and, in fact, Does not know how to act. It's her very first visit--and then to begin By asking a stranger--a gentleman, in-- One with moustaches too--and a tuft on his chin-- She "really don't know-- He had much better go,"-- Here the Countess steps in from behind, and says "No!-- Fair sir, you are welcome. Do, pray, stop and dine-- You will take our pot-luck--and we've decentish wine." He bows, looks at Miss,--and he does not decline. ACT II.