Scene, A Chamber.
Enter Mrs. Bland.
Mrs. Bland.
Yes, ever be this day a festival
In my domestic calendar. This morn
Will see my husband free. Even now, perhaps,
Ere yet Aurora flies the eastern hills,
Shunning the sultry sun, my Bland embarks.
Already, on the Hudson's dancing wave,
He chides the sluggish rowers, or supplicates
For gales propitious; that his eager arms
May clasp his wife, may bless his little ones.
Oh! how the tide of joy makes my heart bound,
Glowing with high and ardent expectation!
Enter two Children.
1st Child.
Here we are, Mama, up, and dress'd already.
Mrs. Bland.
1st Child.