Imagens das páginas

Queste parole da lor ci fur porte. Da ch' io intesi quell' anime offense

Chinai il viso, e tanto il tenni basso

Fin che il Poeta mi disse : "Che pense ? Quando risposi incomminciai : “ Ahi lasso !

Quanti dolci pensier, quanto desio

Menò costoro al doloroso passo !” Poi mi rivolsi a loro, e parlai io,

E cominciai : Francesca, i tuoi martiri

A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio. Ma dimmi: al tempo de' dolci sospiri

A che, e come concedette Amore

Che conosceste i dubbiosi desiri ? Ell ella a me : nessun inaggior dolore

Che ricordarsi del tempo felice

Nella miserial; e ciò sa il tuo dottore. Ma se a conoscer la prima radice

Del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto

Farò ? come colui che piange e dice. Noi leggevamo un giorno per diletto

Di Lancillotto 3, comc Amor lo strinse :

Soli eravamo, e senza alcun sospetto. Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse

Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso :

Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse. Quando leggeinmo il disiato riso

Esser baciato da cotanto amante,

Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso, La bocca mi baciò tutto trcmante :

Galeotto fu il libro, e chi lo scrisse

Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante. Mentre che l'uno spirto questo disse,

L'altro piangeva sì che di pietade

Io venni nen così com' io morisse, E caddi coine corpo morto cade.

These were the accents utter'd by her tongue. Since I first listen'd to these souls offended,

I bow'd my visage, and so kept it till — (bended,

“ What think'st thou?" said the bard; when I unAnd recommenced : “ Alas! unto such fil

How many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasies,

Led these their evil fortune to fulfil !" And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes,

And said, “ Francesca, thy sad destinies

Have made me sorrow till the tears arise. But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,

By what and how thy love to passion rose,

So as bis dim desires to recognisc ?
Then she to me: “ The greatest of all woes

Is to remind us of our happy days

In misery, and that thy teacher knows. 5 But if to learn our passion's first root preys

Upon thy spirit with such sympathy,

I will do even as he who weeps and says. 6 We road one day for pastime, seated nigh,

Of Lancilot, how love enchain'd him too.

We were alone, quite unsuspiciously.
But oft our eyes met, and our checks in hue

All o'er discolour'd by that reading werc;

But one point only wholly us o'erthrew; ? When we read the long-sigh'd-for smile of her,

To be thus kiss'd by such devoted lover, 6

He who from me can be divided ne'er
Kiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over.

Accursed was the book and he who wrote:

That day no further leaf we did uncover. While thus one spirit told us of their lot,

The other wept, so that with pity's thralls

I swoon'd as if by death I had been smote, And fell down even as a dead body falls. 9

She nevertheless goes on to relieve her brother-in-law from all imputation of having seduced her. Alone, and unconscious of their danger, they read a love-story together. They gazed upon each other, pale with emotion ; but the secret of their mutual passion never escaped their lips :

“ Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse

Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso ;

Ma solo un punto fu qual che ci vinse." The description of two happy lovers in the story was the ruin of Francesca. It was the romance of Lancilot and Genevra, wife of Arthur, King of England :

“Quando leggemmo il disiato riso

Esser baciato da cotanto amante,

Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso

La bocca mi bacið tutto tremante." After this avowal, she hastens to complete the picture with one touch which covers her with contusion

Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante." She utters not another word! - and yet we fancy her before us, with her downcast and glowing looks; whilst her lover stands by her side, listening in suence and in tears. Dante, too, who had hitherto questioned her, no longer ventures to inquire in what manner her husband had put her to death; but is so overawed by pity, that he sinks into a swoon. Nor is this to be considered as merely a poetical exaggeration. The poet had probably known her when a girl, blooming in innocence and beauty under the paternal roof. This, we think, is the true account of the overwhelming syinpathy with which her form overpowers him. The episode, too, was written by him in the very house in which she was born, and in which he had himseli, during the last ten years of his exile, found a constant asylum. – MACAULAY.

I pass each day where Dante's bones are laid;

A little cupola, more neat than solemn,
Protects his dust, – but reverence here is paid

To the bara's tomb, and not the warrior's column:
The time must come when, both alike decay'd,

The chieftain's troply, and the poet's volume,
Will sink where lic the songs and wars of earth,
Before Pelides' death, or Fomer's birth."

Don Juan, Canto íii.] if In onini adversitate fortuna infelicissimun genus infortunii cst fuisse felicem."-Boetius. Dante himself tells us,

that Boetius and Cicero de Amicitia were the two first books that engaged his attention.)

? (" In some of the editions it is 'dird.' in others' faro;' - an essential difference between saying' and doing.' which I know not how to decide. Ask Foscolo. The dd editions drive me mad." – Lord Byron to Mr. M.)

3 [One of the Knights of Arthur's Round Table, and the lover of Genevra, celebrated in romance. See Southey's “ King Arthur," vol. i. p. 52. Whitaker, the historian of Manchester, makes out for the knight both a local habitation and a name. " The name of Lancelot," he says, " is an appellation truly British, and significative of royalty; Lance being a Celtic term for a spear, and Leod, Lod, or Lot, im. porting a people. He was therefore (!) a British sovereign ; and since he is denominated Lancelot of the Lake. perhaps (!) he resided at Coccium, in the region Linnís, and was the inonarch of Lancashire ; as the kings of Creones, living at Selma, on the forest of Morven, are generally denominated sovereigns of Morren ; or, more properly, was king of Cheshire, and resided at Pool-ton Lancelot, in the hundred of Wirrall." See also Ellis's Specimens of early Romances, vol. i. p. 271.) . (" Is to remind us of

our happy days." — M9.)

this $(" In misery and


as he weeps and says."- MS.)


{thái} thy teacher knows." – MS.) }

}."- Ms.) 0 (" To be thus kiss'd by such {

a fervent?


(levoted 9 (The episode of Francesca of Rimini is thus translated by Cary: and it is only justice to Lord Byron to give the passage here, in order to show how he succeeded in over. coming all the difficulties of rhyme, with which Mr. Cary does not grapple:

"The land that gave me birth Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.

"Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that fair form, froin me

The Blues :


" Nimium ne crede colori." - VIRGIL.
O trust not, ye beautiful creatures, to hue,
Though your hair were as red us your stockings are blue.


Hold, my good friend, do you know

Whom you speak to ?
London - Before the Door of a Lecture Room. Tra. Right well, boy, and so does “ the Row:"4

You're an author - a poet -
Enter Tracy, meeting InKEL.


And think you that I
Ink. You 're too late.

Can stand tamely in silence to hear you decry
Is it over ?

The Muses ?

Nor will be this hour. Tra. Excuse me: I meant no offence
But the benches are cramm'd, like a garden in flower, To the Nine; though the number who make some
With the pride of our belles, who have made it the

fashion ;

(passion" To their favours is such - but the subject to drop, So, instead of “ beaux arts," we may say « la belle I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop, For learning, which lately has taken the lead in (Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading. Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces, patience

As one finds every author in one of those places ;) With studying to study your new publications. Where I just had been skimming a charming critique, There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greck! and Co. 3

Where your friend - you know who — has just got With their damnable

such a threshing,

Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still :
Love, that denial takes from none beloved,
Caught me with pleasing hiin so passing well,
That, as thou seest, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death: Caina waits
The soul, who spilt our life.', Such were their words ;
At hearing which downward I bent my looks,
And held them there so long, that the Bard cried :

What art thou pondering? I in answer thus:
* Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire,
Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!'

" Then turning, I to them my speech address'd,
And thus began: • Francesca ! your sad fate
Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me ; in the time of your sweet sighs,
By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew
Your yet uncertain wishes ?' She replied:
No greater griet' than to remember days
Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens
Thy Icarn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly
If thou art beut to know the primal root
From whence our love gat being, I will do
As one, who weeps and tells his tale.

One day,
For our delight, we read of Lancelot,
How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no
Suspicion near us. Oittimes by that reading
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point
Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,
The wished smile, so rapturously kiss'd
By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er
Froin me shall separate, at once my lips
All trembling kiss d. The book and writer both
Were love's purveyors:

In its leaves that day
We road no more.' While thus one spirit spake,
The other wail'd so sorely, that heart-struck,
I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far

From death, and like a corse fell to the ground."
The story of Francesca and Paolo is a great favourite with
the Italians. It is noticed by all the historians of Ravenna.
Petrarch introduces it, in his Trionfi d' Amorc, among his
exa'nples of calamitous passion; and Tassoni, in his Secchia
Rapita, represents Paolo Malatesta as leading the troops of
Rimini, anel describes him, when mounted on his charger,
a contemplating a golden sword-chain, presented to him by

" Rimini vien con la bandiera sesta,

Guida mille cavalli, e mille fanti

Halli donata al dispartir Francesca
L'aurea catena, a cui la spada appende.
La vi mirando al misero, e rinfresca
Quel foco ognor, che l'anima gli accende,

Quanto cerca fuggir, tanto s' invesca."
To him Francesca gave the golden chain

At parting-time, from which his sword was hung;
The wretched lover gazed at it with pain,

Adding new pangs to those his heart had wrung; The more he sought to fly the luscious bane,

The firmer he was bound, the deeper stung."] (This trifle, which Lord Byron has himself designated as a “mere buffoonery, never meant for publication," was written in 1820, and first appeared in “ The Liberal.” The personal allusions in which it abounds are, for the most part, sutficiently intelligible ; and, with a few exceptions, so goodhumoured, that the parties concerned may be expected to join in the laugh.)

2 (" About the year 1781, it was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These societies were denominated Blue-stocking Clubs; the origin of which title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was Mr. Stillingfieet, whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that it used to be said,. We can do nothing without the blue stockings ;' and thus by degrees the title was established." - Boswell, vol. riii. p. 86. Sir William Forbes, in his Life of Dr. Beattie, says, ihat " a foreigner of distinction hearing the expression, translated it literally, · Bas Bleu,' hy which these ineetings came to be distinguished. Miss Hannah More, who was herself a member, has written a poem with the title of · Bas Bleu,' in allusion to this mistake of the foreigner, in which she has characterised most of the eminent personages of which it was composed.")

3 (See the stanzas on Messrs. Wordsworth and Southey in Don Juan, canto iü.)

. (Paternoster-row – long and still celebrated as a very bazair of booksellers. Sir Walter Scott " hitches into rhyme" one of the most important firms – that

" Of Longman, Ilurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,

Our fathers of the Row.")

That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely “refreshing." i Ink.

Say rather an angle, What a beautiful word !

If you and she marry, you 'll certainly wrangle. ? Ink.

Very true; 't is so soft I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether. And so cooling - they use it a little too oft ;

Tra. And is that any cause for not coming And the papers have got it at last but no matter.

together? So they've cut up our friend then ?

Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance Tra.

Not left him a tatter - Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with Not a rag of his present or past reputation,

science. Which they call a disgrace to the age and the nation. She's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning Ink. I'm sorry to hear this! for friendship, you Herself in all matters connected with learning, know

(so. That Our poor friend !- but I thought it would terminate Tra.

What ? Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.

Ink. I perhaps may as well hold my tongue ; You don't happen to have the Review in your pocket? But there's five hundred people can tell you you 're Tra. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others

wrong. (Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's) Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew. All scrambling and jostling, like so many iinps,

Ink. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue ? And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse. Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you—something Ink. Let us join them.

The girl's a fine girl.

(of both. Tra, What, won't you return to the lecture ? Ink.

And you feel nothing loth Ink. Why, the place is so cramm'd, there's not To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet room for a spectre.

Her life is as good as your own, I will bet. Besides, our friend Scamp is to day so absurd

Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I Tra. How can you know that till you hear him?


(hand. Ink,

I heard | Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat Ink. Why, that heart's in the inkstand—that hand Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.

on the pen. Tra. I have had no great loss then ?

Tra. A propos — Will you write me a song now Inh. Loss ! — such a palaver!

and then ? I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver

Ink, To what purpose ? Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours

Tra. You know, my dear friend, that in prose To the torrent of trash which around him he pours, My talent is decent, as far as it goes; Pump'd up with such effort, disgorged with such labour, But in rhyme That - come do not make me speak ill of one's Ink,

You 're a terrible stick, to be sure. neighbour.

Tra. I own it; and yet, in these times, there's no Tra. I make you !

lure Ink.

Yes, you! I said nothing until For the heart of the fair like a stanza or two; You compelld me, by speaking the truth

And so, as I can't, will you furnish a few ? Tra.

To speak ill? Ink. In your name ? Is that your deduction ?

Tra. In my name. I will copy them out, Ink.

When speaking of Scamp ill, To slip into her hand at the very next rout. I certainly follow, not set an example.

Ink. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this? The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.


Why, Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye, makes many.

So far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme But we two will be wise.

What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime ? Ink.

Pray, then, let us retire. Ink. As sublime! If it be so, no need of my Muse. Tra. I would, but

Tra. But consider, dear Inkel, she's one of the Ink. There must be attraction much higher

“ Blues.” Than Scamp, or the Jews' harp he nicknames his lyre, Ink. As sublime !-Mr. Tracy-I've nothing to say. To call you to this hotbed.

Stick to prose — As sublime !!— but I wish you good Tra. I own it-'tis truc


(wrong; A fair lady

Tra. Nay, stay, my dear fellow - consider-I'm
A spinster ?

I own it; but, prithee, compose me the song.
Miss Lilac !

Ink. As sublime !!

The Blue ! Tra.

I but used the expression in haste. The heiress ?

Ink. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damn'd Tra. The angel !

bad taste. Ink.

The devil ! why, man! Tra. I own it- I know it - acknowledge it--what Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can.

Can I say to you more ? You wed with Miss Lilac! 't would be your perdition: Ink.

I see what you'd be at: She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician.

You disparage my parts with insidious abuse, (use. Tra. I say she 's an angel.

Till you think you can turn them best to your own

(This cant phrase was first used in the Edinburgh Review – probably by Mr. Jeffrey.) ? (" Her farourite science was the mathematical

In short she was a walking calculation,

Miss Edgeworth's norels stepping from their covers,
Morality's prim personification
But - oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual,
Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all ?"

Don Juan, Canto i.j Tra. And is that not a sign I respect them ?


That's clear. Ink.

Why that But for God's sake let's go, or the Bore will be here.
To be sure makes a difference.

Come, come : nay,
I'm off.

[Exit IXKEL.
I know what is what: Tra.

You are right, and I'll follow; And you,

who're a man of the gay world, no less 'Tis high time for a " Sic me servavit Apollo."4 Than a poct of t'other, may easily guess

And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes, That I never could mean, by a word, to offend Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes, A genius like you, and moreover my friend.

All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles Ink. No doubt; you by this time should know With a glass of Madeira at Lady Bluebottle's. what is due

[Erit Tracy.
To a man of but come let us shake hands.

You knew,
And you know, my dear fellow, how hcartily I,
Whatever you publish, am ready to buy.


{for sale,
Ink. That's my bookseller's business; I care not An Apurtment in the House of Lady BLUEBOTTLE
Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.

A Table prepared.
There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays,

Sir Richard BLUEBOTTLE solus.
And my own grand romance
Had its full share of praise.

Was there ever a man who was married so sorry ?
I myself saw it puffd in the “ Old Girl's Review.”. Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry.
Ink. What Review ?

[Trevoux;"3 My life is reversed, and my quiet destroy'd ; Tra.

'Tis the English “ Journal de My days, which once pass'd in so gentle a void, A clerical work of our jesuits at home.

Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employ'd :
Have you never yet seen it?

The twelve, do I say? - of the whole twenty-four,
That pleasure's to come.

Is there one which I dare call my own any more ?
Tra. Make haste then.

What with driving and visiting, dancing and dining,
Why so ?

What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling,
I have heard people say

and shining
That it threatend to give up the ghost t'other day. In science and art, I'll be cursed if I know
Ink. Well, that is a sign of some spirit.

Myself from my wife ; for although we are two,

No doubt. Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be done
Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout ? In a style which proclaims us eternally one.
Ink. I've a card, and shall go: but at present, as But the thing of all things which distresses me more

[the moon Than the bills of the week (though they trouble me As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from

(Where he seeins to be soaring in search of his wits), Is the numerous, humourous, backbiting crew
And an interval grants from his lecturing fits,

Of scribblers, wits, lecturers, white, black, and blue,
I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation, Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost
To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation : For the bill here, it seems, is defray'd by the host -
'Tis a sort of re-union for Scamp, on the days

No pleasure ! no leisure! no thought for my pains, Of his lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains : praise.

A smatter and chatter, glean'd out of reviews,
And I own, for my own part, that 't is not unpleasant. By the rag, tag, and bobtail, of those they call “BLUES; ”
Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present. A rabble who know not-But soft, here they come !
Tra. That “ metal's attractive."

Would to God I were deaf ! as I'm not, I'll be dumb.

No doubt - to the pocket.
Tra. You should rather encourage my passion than

Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, Miss LulaC, LADY BLUEshock it.

MOUNT, MR. BOTHERBY, INKEL, Tracy, Miss But let us proceed; for I think, by the hum

MAZARINE, and others, with Scade the Lecturer, Ink. Very true ; let us go, then, before they can

&c. &c. come,

Lady Bluel. Ah! Sir Richard, good morning;
Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levy,

I've brought you soine friends.
On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bevy. Sir Rich. (bows, and afterwards aside.) If friends,
Hark! Zounds, they 'll be on us; I know by the drone

they 're the first.
Of old Botherby's spouting ex-cathedrà tone.

Lady Blieb.

But the luncheon attends.
Ay! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join I pray ye be scated, “ sans cérémonie."
Your fricnds, or he 'll pay you back in your own coin. Mr. Scamp, you 're fatigued; take your chair there,
Tra. All fair; 't is but lecture for lecture.

next me.

[ They all sit.

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(Messrs. Southey and Sotheby.]
? ("* My Grandmother's Review, the British." This heavy
journal has since been gathered to its grandinothers.]

3 [The “ Journal de Trevoux"(in fifty-six volumes) is one
of the most curious collections of literary gossip in the world,
- and the Poet paid the British Review an extravagant com-
pliment, when hic made this comparison.)

* (" Sothehy is a good man - rhymes well (if not wisely); but is a borc. He seizes you by the button. One night of a rout at Mrs. Ilope's, he had fastened upon me – (something alout Agamemnon, or Orestes, or sore of his plays) nuta

withstanding my symptoms of manifest distress - (for I was in love, and just nicked a minute when neither mothers, nor husbands, nor rivals, nor gossips were near my then idol, who was beautiful as the statues of the gallery where we stood at the time. Sotheby, I say, had seized upon inc lry the button and the heart-strings, and spared neither. Wil. liam Spencer, who likes fun, and don't dislike mischief, saw my case, and coming up to us both, took me by the hand, and rathetically bade me farewell ; for' said hic, I see it is all over with you.' Sotheby then went his way : 'sic me servavit Apollo.'- Byron Diary, 1821.)


Sir Rich. (aside.) If he does, his fatigue is to come. Lady Blueb.

Mr. Tracy Lady Blucmount Miss Lilac

be pleased, pray, to place ye; And you, Mr. BotherbyBoth.

Oh, my dear lady, I obey.

Lady Blueb. Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye: You were not at the lecture. Ink.

Excuse me, I was ; But the heat forced me out in the best part alas ! And when

Lady Blueb. To be sure it was broiling: but then You have lost such a lecture : Both

The best of the ten. Tra. How can you know that ? there are two more. Both.

Because I defy him to beat this day's wondrous applause. The very walls shook. Ink.

Oh, if that be the test, I allow our friend Scamp hath this day done his best. Miss Lilac, permit me to help you; - a wing ? Miss Lil. No more, sir, I thank you. Who lectures

next spring ? Both. Dick Dunder. Ink.

That is, if he lives. Miss Lil.

And why not? Ink. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot. Lady Bluemount ! a glass of Madeira ? Lady Bluem.

With pleasure. Ink. How does your friend Wordswords, that

Windermere treasure ? Does he stick to his lakes, like the ches he sings, And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and

kings? Lady Blueb. He has just got a place. Ink.

As a footman ? Lady Bluem.

For shame! Nor profanc with your sneers so poetic a name. Ink. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his

master; For the poet of pedlars 't were, sure, no disaster To wear a new livery; the more, as 't is not (coat. The first time he has turn'd both his creed and his Lady Bluem. For shame! I repeat. If Sir George

could but hear Lady Blueb. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all

know, my dear, 'Tis his way.

Sir Rich. But this place

Is perhaps like friend Scamp's,
A lecturer's.

(Stamps : Lady Blueb. Excuse me — - 't is one in He is made a Collector. 1 Tra.

Collector! Sir Rich.

How? Miss Lil.

What ? Ink. I shall think of him oft when I buy a new hat: There his works will appear Lady Bluem.

Sir, they reach to the Ganges. Ink. I sha'n't go so far -I can have them at

Grange's. 2

Lady Blueb. Oh fie!
Miss Lil.

And for shame !
Lady Bluem.

You 're too bad.

Very good!
Lady Bluem. How good ?
Lady Blueb. He means nought - 't is his phrase.
Lady Bluem,

He grows rude
Lady Blueb. He means nothing; nay, ask him.
Lady Bluem.

Pray, sir ! did you mean What you say ? Ink.

Never mind if he did ; 't will be seen That whatever he means won't alloy what he says.

Both. Sir!

Ink. Pray be content with your portion of praise ; 'Twas in your defence. Both.

If you please, with submission, I can make out my own.

It would be your perdition. While you live, my dear Botherby, never defend Yourself or your works; but leave both to a friend. A propos Is your play then accepted at last ?

Both. At last?
Ink. Why I thought that's to say - there had

pass'd A few green-room whispers, which hinted - you

know, That the taste of the actors at best is so so. 3 Both. Sir, the green-room's in rapture, and so 's

the committee. Ink. Ay-yours are the plays for exciting our pity

(mind," And fear,” as the Greek says: for “ purging the I doubt if you 'll leave us an equal behind. Both. I have written the prologue, and meant to

have pray'd For a spice of your wit in an epilogue's aid. Ink. Well, time enough yet, when the play 's to be

play'd. Is it cast yet? Both,

The actors are fighting for parts,
As is usual in that most litigious of arts.
Lady Blueb. We'll all make a party, and go the

first nigbt.
Tra. And you promised the epilogue, Inkel.

Not quite.
However, to save my friend Botherby trouble,
I'll do what I can, though my pains must be double.

Tra, Why so ?

To do justice to what goes before.
Both. Sir, I'm happy to say, I have no fears on

that score. Your parts, Mr. Inkel, are Ink.

Never mind mine ; Stick to those of your play, which is quite your own

line. Lady Bluem. You 're a fugitive writer, I think,

sir, of rhymes ? Ink. Yes, ma'am ; and a fugitive reader sometimes. On Wordswords, for instance, I seldom alight, Or on Mouthey, his friend, without taking to flight. Lady Bluem. Sir, your taste is too common : but

time and posterity

66 the

I (Mr. Wordsworth is collector of stamps for Cumberland and Westmoreland.)

. Grange is or was a famous pastry-cook and fruiterer in Piccadilly.

"C" When I belonged to the Drury Lane Committee, the number of plays upon the shelves were about five hundred.

Mr. Sotheby obligingly offered us all his tragedles, and I pledged myself, and — not with standing many squabbles with my committee brethren - did get Ivan accepted, read, and the parts distributed. But lo! in the very heart of the matter, upon some lepid-ness on the part of Kean, or warmth on that of the author, Sotheby withdrew his play." - Byron Diary, 1821. )

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