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(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)
All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps, A LITERARY ECLOGUE.
And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.
Ink. Let us join them.
What, won't you return to the lecture “Nimium ne crede colori."-Virgil.
Ink. Why, the place is so cramm'd, there's not roon
for a spectre.
Tra. How can you know that till you hear him?
Was froin his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.
Tra. I have had no great loss then ? Ink. You're too late.
Loss!—such a palaver! Tra. Is it over ?
I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver Ink.
Nor will be this hour. But the benches are cramm'd like a garden in flower, To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,
of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours With the pride of our belles, who have made it the Pump'd up with such effort, disgorged with such labour, fashion;
That-come--do not make me speak ill of one's So instead of "beaux arts," we may say “la belle pas
Tra. I make you! For learning, which lately has taken the lead in
Yes, you! I said nothing until The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.
You compell'd me, by speaking the truth Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my Tra.
To speak illi patience
Is that your deduction ? With studying to study your new publications.
When speaking of Scamp, ill, There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords I certainly follow, not set an example. and Co.
The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany. With their damnable
Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool Ink. Hold, my good friend, do you know
makes many. Whom you speak to?
But we two will be wise.
Pray, then, let us retire. You're an author-a poet
Tra. I would, but
There must be attraction much higher Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry Than Scamp. or the Jews'-harp he nicknames his lyre, The Muses?
To call you to this hotbed.
I own it-t is true To the Nine; though the number who make some pre- A fair ladytence
A spinster? To their favours is such-but the subject to drop, Tra.
Ink. I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop,
The Blue ! (Next door lo the pastry.cook's; so that when I The heiress? Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy
Tra. The angel! On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces,
The devil! why, man! As one finds every author in one of those places,) Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can. Where I just had been skimming a charming critique, | You wed with Miss Lilac! 't would be your perdition: So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek! She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician. Where your friend-you know who-had just got such Tra. I say she's an angel. a threshing,
Say rather an angle. That is, as the phrase goes, extremely "refreshing." If you and she marry, you 'll certainly wrangle. What a beautiful word !
I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether.
Tra. And is that any cause for not coming together? And so cooling-they use it a little too oft ;
Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance And the papers have got it at last-but no matter.
Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with So they've cut up our friend then ?
Not left him a tatter-She's so learned in all things, and fond of concernot a rag of his present or past reputation,
ing Which they call a disgrace to the age and the nation. Herself in all matters connected with learning. Ink. I'm sorry to hear this; for friendship, you
What? Our poor friend!-but I thought it would terminate so.
Ink. I perhaps may as well hold my tongas; Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it. You do n't hiipprn to have the Review in your pocket? But there's five hundred people can tell you you na
wrong. Tra. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others!
Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew. I I myself saw it puffd in the “Old Girl's Review." Ink, Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue?
Ink. What Review ? Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you-something Tra. 'Tis the Englisn “ Journal de Trevoux; of both.
A clerical work of our Jesuits at home.
Have you never yet seen it?
That pleasure's to come To her good lady.mother's reversion; and yet
Tra. Make haste then. Her life is as good as your own, I will bet.
Why so ? Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I de. Tra.
I have heard people say mand
That it threatend to give up the ghost t'other day. Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and Ink. Well, that is a sign of some spirit. hand.
No doubt Ink. Why, that heart's in the inkstand-that hand. Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout? on the pen.
Ink. I've a card, and shall go; but at present, as Tra. Apropos-Will you write me a song now and
SOOD then ?
As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from Ink. To what purpose ?
the nioon, Tra. You know, my dear friend, that in prose (Where he seems to be soaring in search of his wits,) My talent is decent, as far as it goes;
And an interval grants from his lecturing fits, But in rhyme
I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation, Ink.
You're a terrible stick, to be sure. To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation : Tra. I own it; and yet, in these times, there's no lure 'Tis a sort of reunion for Scamp, on the days For the heart or the fair like a stanza or two; Of bis lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and praise. And so, as I can't, will you furnish a few ?
And I own, for my own part, that 't is bot unpleasant Ink, In your name?
Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present. Tra.
In my name. I will copy inem out, Tra. That “metal's attractive." To slip into her hand at the very next rout.
No doubt-to the pocket Ink. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this? Tra. You should rather encourage my passion than Tra.
shock it. Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye, But let us proceed; for I think, by the humSo far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme
Ink. Yery true; let us go, then, before they can What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime ?
come, Ink. As sublime! If it be so, no need of my Muse. Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levy, Tra. But consider, dear Inkel, she is one of the On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bery, “ Blues."
Hark! Zounds, they 'll be on us; I know by the drone Ink. As sublime !-Mr. Tracy-I've nothing to say. Of old Botherby's spouting, ex-cathedra tone. Stick to prose-As sublime!!-but I wish you good Ay! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join day.
Your friends, or he 'll pay you back in your own coin. Tra. Nay, stay, my dear fellow-consider-I'm Tra. All fair; 't is but lecture for lecture. wrong:
That's clear. I own it; but prithee, compose me the song.
But for God's sake let's go, or the bore will be here. Ink. As sublime!!
Come, come; nay, I'm off.
(Ezit INKEL Tra. I but used the expression in haste.
You are right, and I'll follow; Ink. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damnd 'Tis high time for a “Sic me servarit Apollo." bad taste.
And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes, Tra. I own it-I know it - acknowledge it - what Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes, Can I say to you more?
All flocking to noisten their exquisite throttles Ink.
I see what you 'd be at: With a glass of Madeira at Lady Bluebottle's. You disparage my parts with insidious abuse,
(Ezit TRACT. Till you think you can turn them best to your own use.
ECLOGUE SECOND. Tra. And is that not a sign I respect them ?
An Apartment in the House of LADY BLUEBOTTLE. To be sure makes a difference.
A Table prepared.
Sir Richard BLUEBOTTLE, solus.
Was there ever a man who was married so sorry? That I never could mean by a word to offend Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry. A genius like you, and moreover my friend.
My life is reversed, and my quiet destroy'd; Ink. No doubt; you by this time should know what My days, which once pass'd in so gentle a void, is due
Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employ d: To a man of-but come-let us shake hands.
The twelve, do I say?-of the whole twenty-four, Tra.
You knew, Is there one which I dare call my own any more? And you knowo, my dear fellow, how heartily I, What with driving, and visiting, dancing and dining. Whatever you publish, am ready to buy.
What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling, and Ink. That's my bookseller's business; I care not for
In science and art, I'll be curst if I know Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.
Myself from my wife; for although we are two. There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays, Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be And my own grand romance
Had its full share of praise. In a style that proclaims us eternally one.
Rul the thing of all things which distresses me more Lady Bluem. For shame! I repeat. Jf Sir George Chan the bills of the week (though they trouble me
could but hear sore)
Lady Bluch. Never mind our friend lakei; we all Is the numerous, humorous, backbiting crew
know, my dear, Of scribblers, wils, lecturers, white, black, and blue, 'Tis his way, Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost
Sir Rich. But this place-For the bill here, it seems, is defray'd by the host- Ink.
Is perhaps like friend Scamp's, No pleasure ! no leisure! no thought for my pains, A lecturer's. But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains; Lady Blueb. Excuse me-'t is one in “the Stamps :* A smatter and chalter, glean'd out of reviews, He is made a collecior. By the ray, tag, and bobtail, of those they call " Blues ;" Tra.
Collector! A rabble who know not--but soft, here they coine ! Sir Rich.
How ? Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I 'll be dumb. Miss Lil.
Ink, I shall think of him oft when I buy a new hat: Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, Miss LILAC, LADY BLUE. There his works will appearMOUNT. MR. BOTHER BY, INKEL, TRACY, Miss Maza. Lady Bluem.
Sir, they reach to the Ganges. RINE, and others, with Scamp the Lecturer, &c. fc. Ink. I shan't go so far-I can bave them at Granges.*
Lady Blueb. Oh tie! Lady Blueb. Ah! Sir kichard, good morning; I've Miss Lil.
And for shame! brought you some friends.
You're too bad Sir Rich. (bors, and afterwards aside.) If friends,
Very good! they're the first.
Lady Bluem. How good ?
Lariy Blueh. He incans naught-t is his phrase. I pray ye be seated, " sans ceremonie.”
He grows rude. Mr. Scamp, you 're fatigued; take your chair there,
Lody Blucb. He nicans nothing; nay, ask him. next me.
[ They all sit.
Pray, sir! did you mean
Never mind if he did; 't will be seen Lady Bluemount-Miss Lilac-be pleased, pray, 10 That whatever he means wou'l alloy what he says. place ye;
Both. Sir! And you, Mr. Botherby
Ink. Pray be content with your portion of praise ; Both. Oh, my dear Lady,
'Twas in your defence. I obey.
you please, with submission, Lady Blueb. Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye;
I can make out my own. You were not at the lecture.
It would be your perdition. Ink,
Excuse me, I was; But the heat forced me out in the best part-alas!
While you live, my dear Botherby, never defend
Yourself or your works; but leave both to a friend. And when
Apropos--Is your play then accepted at last ?
Both. At last?
The best of the ten.
Ink. Why I thought-that's to say-there had past Tra. How can you know that? there are two more. That the taste of the actors at best is so so.
A few green-room whispers, which hinted—you know Both.
Both. Sir, the green-room's in rapture, and so 's the I defy him in beat this day's wondrous tapplause.
Ink. Ay--yours are the plays for exciting our “pity
And fear," is the Greek says: for “purging the mind," I allow our friend Scamp has this day done his best.
I doubt if you 'll leave us an equal behind. Miss Lilac, perinit me to help you ;-a wing?
Both. I have wrillen the prologue, and meant to have Miss Lil. No more, Sir, I thank you. Who lectures next spring?
For a spice of your wit in an epilogue's aid. Both. Dick Dunder.
Ink. Well, time enough yet, when the play's to be Ink. That is, if he lives.
play'd. Miss Lil.
And why not?
Is it cast yet? Ink. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.
Both. The actors are fighting for parts, I.ady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?
As is usual in that most litigious of arts. laly Bluem.
Lady Blueb. We'll all make a party, and go the first Ink. How does your friend Wordswords, that Winder.
Tra. And you promised the epilogue. Lokel.
Not quite, And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and
However, to save my friend Botherby trouble, kings?
I'll do what I can, though my pains must be double. Lady Blueb. He has just got a place. Ink.
As a footinan ?
Tra. Why so ?
To do justice to what goes before. Lady Bluem,
For shainc !
Both. Sir, I'm happy to say, I've no fears on that Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a naine. ink. Nay, I ineant him no evil, but pitied his inas. Your parts, Mr, Inkel, areter;
Nuver mind mine, For the poet of peallars 't were, sure, no disaster
Stick to those of your play, which is quite your own line. To wear a new livery; the more, as 't is not The first time he has turn's both his creed and his coat.
* Gratge is or was a samous pastry cook and fruiterer in Piccadilly
Lady Bluem. You're a fugitive writer, I think, sir, Both. I thank you ; not any more, sir, till I dine. of rhymes ?
Ink. A propos-Do you dine with Sir Humphrey to Ink. Yes, ma'am; and a fugitive reader sometimes.
day? On Wordswords, for instance, I seldom alight,
Tra. I should think with Duke llamphrey was more Or on Mouthy, his friend, without taking to flight.
in your way. Lady Bluem. Sir, your taste is too common; but time
Ink. It might be of yore; but we authors now look and posterity
To the knight, as a landlord, much more than the Will right these great men, and this age's severity
Duke. Become its reproach.
The truth is, each writer now quite at his ease is, Ink. I've no sort of objection,
And (except with his publisher) dines where he pleases. So I'm not of the party to take the infection.
But 't is now nearly five, and I must to the Park. Lady Blueb. Perhaps you have doubts that they ever
Tra. And I'll take a turn with you there till 't is will take?
dark. Ink. Not at all; on the contrary, those of the lake
And you, ScampHave taken already, and still will continue
Excuse me; I must to my notes, To take-what they can, from a groat to a guinea,
For my lecture next week.
He must mind whom he quotes
Out of “ Elegant Extracts."
Well, now we break up: What say you to this?
But remember Miss Diddle invites us to sup.
Ink. Then at two hours past midnight we 'll all meet Though their system's absurdity keeps it unknown.
again, Ink. Then why not unearth it in one of your lectures ? For the sciences, sandwiches, hock, and champague! Scamp. It is only time past which comes under my
Tra. And the sweet lobster salad ! strictures.
I honour that meal; Lady Blueb. Come, a truce with all tartnees :-the joy For 'tis then that our feelings most genuinely-feel. of my heart
Ink. True ; feeling is truest tren, far beyond ques Is to see Nature's triumph o'er all that is art.
tion: Wild Nature!-Grand Shakspeare!
I wish to the gods it was the same with digestion! Both.
And down Aristotle. Lady Blueb. Pshaw !--never mind that; for one inoLady Bluem. Sir George thinks exactly with Lady
ment of feeling Bluebottle;
Is worth-God knows what. And my Lord Seventy-four, who protects our dear Ink.
"Tis at least worth concealing Bard,
For itself, or what follows—But here comes your And who gave him his place, has the greatest regard
carriage. For the poet, who, singing of peellars and asses, Sir Rich. (@side.) I wish all these people were Has found out the way to dispense with Parnassus.
with my marriage!
(Erein Tra. And you, Scamp!Scamp. I needs must confess I'm embarrass'd. Ink. Do n't call upon Scamp, who's already so harass'd
THE With old schools, and new schools, and no schools, and
THIRD ACT OF MANFRED, all schools. Tra. Well, one thing is certain, that some must be
IN ITS ORIGINAL SHAPE, fools. I should like to know who.
AS FIRST SENT TO THE PUBLISHER Ink.
And I should not be sorry To know who are not :-it would save us some worry.
ACT III. Lady Blueb. A truce with remark, and let nothing
Scene I.-A Hall in the Castle of Manfred
MANFRED and HERMAN.
Man. What is the hour?
It wants but one ill sunset I feel so elastic_" so buoyant !--so buoyant !***
And promises a lovely twilight. Ink. Tracy! open the window.
I wish her much joy on 't. Are all things so disposed of in the tower
All, my lord, are ready :
It is well; For which poor Prometheus was chain'd to his moun. Thou mayst retire.
(Erit HEENAK tain.
Man. (alonc.) There is a calm upon me T 18 the source of all sentiment-feeling's true foun. Inexplicable stillness! which till now tain:
Did not belong to what I knew of life. Mis the Vision of Heaven upon Earth: 't is the gas If that I did not know philosophy of the soul: 't is the seizing of shades as they pass, To be of all our vanities the motliest, And making them substance: 't is something divine :- The merest world that ever fool'd the par Ink. Shall I help you, my friend, to a little more wine? From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem
The golden secret, the songlit “Kalon" found • Fact from life, with the words.
And beated in muy soul. It will not last,
But it is well to have known it, though but once: To penance, and with gift of all thy lands
To the monastery
I understand thee,-well. That there is such a feeling. Who is there?
Abbot. Expect no mercy; I have warned thee.
StopHer. My lord, the Abbot of St. Maurice craves
There is a gift for thee within this casket.
(MANFRED opens the casket, strikes a ligi To greet your presence.
and burns some incense.
Ho! Ashtaroth !
The Demon ASHTAROTH appears, singing as follows: Man. Thanks, holy father! welcome to these walls;
The raven sits
On the raven stone,
And his black wing flits
O'er the milk white bone; Man. Hernan retire. What would my reverend To and fro, as the night winds blow, guest?
The carcass of the assassin swings; Abbot. Thus, without prelude ;-Age and zeal, my
And there alone, on the raven-stone,t office,
The raven flapf bis dusky wings.
The fetters creak-and his ebon beak
And this is the tune by the light of the moon
To which the witches dance their round, And busy with thy name-a noble name
Merrily, merrily, cheerily, cheerily, For centuries; may he who bears it now
Merrily, merrily, speeds the ball : Transmit it unimpair'd!
The dead in their shrouds, and the demons in douds, Man. Proceed, -I listen.
Flock to the witches' carnival. Abbot. 'Tis said thou holdest converse with the
Abbot. I fear thee not-hence-hencethings
Avaunt thee, evil one!-help, hol without there! Which are forbidden to the search of man;
Man. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn--to its That with the dwellers of the dark abodes,
peakThe many evil and unheavenly spirits
To its extremest peak-watch with him there Which walk the valley of the shade of death,
From now till suprise ; let him gaze, and know Thou communest. I know that with mankind,
He ne'er again will be so near to heaven. Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely
But harm hiin not; and, when the morrow breaks, Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude
Set him down safe in his cell-away with hin! Is as an anchorite's, were it buit holy.
Ash. Had I not better bring his brethren too, Man. And what are they who do avouch these Convent and all, to bear him company? things?
Man. No, this will serve for the present. Take him Abbot. My pious brethren-the scared peasantry
up. Even thy own vassals-who do look on thee
Ash. Come, friar! now an exorcism or two, With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril.
And we shall fly the lighter. Man. Take it.
ASUTAROTH disappears with the ABBOT, singing as Abbot. I come to save, and not destroy
follows: I would not pry into thy secret soul; But if these things be sooth, there still is time
A prodigal son and a maid undone,
And a widow re-wedded within the year; For penitence and pity: teconcile thee
And a worldly monk and a pregnant nun, With the true church, and through the church to
Are things which every day appear. heaven. Man. I hear thee. This is my reply: whate'er
MANFRED alone. I may have beeo, or am, doth rest between
Man. Why would this fool break in on me, and Heaven and myself.-I shall not choose a mortal
force To be my mediator. Have I sinn'd
My art to pranks fantastical?-no matter, Against your ordinances? prove and punish!* It was not of my seeking. My heart sickens Abbot. Then, hear and tremble! For the headstrong And weighs a fix'd foreboding on my soul; wretch
But it is calm-calm as a sullen sea Who in the mail of innate hardihood
After the hurricane: the winds are still, Woulil shield himself, and battle for his sins,
But the cold waveg swell high and heavily, There is the stake on earth, and beyond earth eter. And there is danger in them. Such a rest nal
Is no repose. My life hath been a combat, Man. Charity, most reverend father,
And every thought a wound, till I am scarr u Becomes thy lips so much more than this menace, In the immortal part of me.-What now? That I would call thee back to it; but say,
Re-erter HERMAN. What wouldst thou with me?
Her. My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset Abbot.
It may be there are
He sinks behind the mountain. Things that would shake thee-but I keep them back,
Doth he so? And give thee till to-morrow to repent.
I will look on him. Then if thou dost not all devote thyself
"Raven-stone, (Rabenstein.) a translation of the German word for will be perceired that, as far as this, the original matter of the the gibbel, which in Germany and Switzerland is pernradent, and trade Third Act has been retained.