10

TRACY.

You should rather encourage my passion than shock it.
But let us proceed; for I think, by the hum

INKEL.

Very true; let us go, then, before they can come,
Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levy,
On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bevy.
Hark! Zounds, they'll be on us; I know by the drone
Of old Botherby's spouting, ex-cathedrâ tone.
Aye! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join
Your friends, or he'll pay you back in your own coin.

TRACY.

All fair; 'tis but lecture for lecture.

INKEL.

That's clear.

But for God's sake let's go, or the bore will be here.

Come, come: nay, I'm off.

[Exit INKEL.

TRACY.

You are right, and I'll follow ;

'Tis high time for a " Sic me servavit Apollo."

And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes,
Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes,
All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles
With a glass of Madeira at Lady Bluebottle's.

End of Eclogue First.

[Exit TRACY.

ECLOGUE SECOND.

An Apartment in the House of LADY BLUEBOTTLE.-A Table

prepared.

SIR RICHARD BLUEBOTTLE solus.

Was there ever a man who was married so sorry?
Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry.
My life is reversed, and my quiet destroyed;
My days, which once pass'd in so gentle a void,
Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employed;
The twelve, do I say?-of the whole twenty-four,
Is there one which I dare call my own any more?
What with driving, and visiting, dancing, and dining,
What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling, and
shining,

In science and art, I'll be curst if I know

Myself from my wife; for although we are two,

Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be done

In a style which proclaims us eternally one.

But the thing of all things which distresses me more
Than the bills of the week (though they trouble me sore)
Is the numerous, humourous, back-biting crew
Of scribblers, wits, lecturers, white, black, and blue,
Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost
(For the bill here, it seems, is defrayed by the host)
No pleasure! no leisure! no thought for my pains,
But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains;

A smatter and chatter, gleaned out of reviews,

By the rag, tag, and bobtail, of those they call " Blues ;" A rabble who know not--But soft, here they come ! Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I'll be dumb.

Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, MISS LILAC, LADY BLUEMOUNT, MR. BOTHERBY, INKEL, TRACY, MISS MAZARINE, and others, with SCAMP the Lecturer, &c. &c.

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

Ah! Sir Richard, good morning; I've brought you some friends.

SIR RICHARD bows, and afterwards aside.

If friends, they're the first.

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

But the luncheon attends.

I pray ye be seated, "sans ceremonie."

Mr. Scamp, you're fatigued; take your chair there, next me.

SIR RICHARD, aside.

If he does, his fatigue is to come.

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

Mr. Tracy

[They all sit.

Lady Bluemount-Miss Lilac-be pleased, pray, to place ye; And you, Mr. Botherby

I obey.

BOTHERBY.

Oh, my dear Lady,

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye;

You were not at the lecture.

INKEL.

Excuse me, I was;

But the heat forced me out in the best part-alas!

And when

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

To be sure it was broiling; but then

You have lost such a lecture!

BOTHERBY.

The best of the ten.

TRACY.

How can you know that? there are two more.

BOTHERBY.

Because

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

INKEL.

Oh, if that be the test,

I allow our friend Scamp has this day done his best.
Miss Lilac, permit me to help you?-a wing?

MISS LILAC.

No more, Sir, I thank you. Who lectures next Spring?

BOTHERBY.

Dick Dunder.

INKEL.

That is, if he lives.

MISS LILAC.

And why not?

INKEL.

No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.

Lady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?

LADY BLUEMOUNT.

With pleasure.

INKEL.

How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere treasure?

Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings,

And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and kings?

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

He has just got a place.

INKEL.

As a footman?

LADY BLUEMOUNT.

For shame!

Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name.

INKEL.

Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his master;
For the poet of pedlars 'twere, sure, no disaster
To wear a new livery; the more, as 'tis not

The first time he has turned both his creed and his coat.

LADY BLUEMOUNT.

For shame! I repeat. If Sir George could but hear

LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

Never mind our friend Inkel; we all know, my dear,

Excuse me 'tis one in "the Stamps :"

He is made a Collector.

TRACY.

Collector!

SIR RICHARD.

How?

What?

MISS LILAC.