Tra. Ink.

The angel!

The devil! why, man!

Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can.

You wed with Miss Lilac! 'twould be your perdition: She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician.

Tra. I say she's an angel.

Ink.

Say rather an angle.

If you and she marry, you'll certainly wrangle. (1) say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether.

I

Tra. And is that any cause for not coming together?

Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with science.

She's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning Herself in all matters connected with learning,

That

Tra.

Ink.

What?

I perhaps may as well hold my tongue; But there's five hundred people can tell you you're

wrong.

Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew. Ink. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue? Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you-something of both.

The girl's a fine girl.

Ink.

And you feel nothing loth

(1) [" Her favourite science was the mathematical
In short, she was a walking calculation,

Miss Edgeworth's novels 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.

To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet
Her life is as good as your own, I will bet.

Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I

demand [hand. Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and Ink. Why, that heart's in the inkstand—that hand on the

pen.

Tra. A propos-Will you write me a song now and then?

Ink. To what purpose?

Tra. You know, my dear friend, that in prose My talent is decent, as far as it goes;

But in rhyme

Ink.

You're a terrible stick, to be sure.

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

lure

For the heart of the fair like a stanza or two;

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

Ink. In your name ?

Tra.

In

them out,

my name. I will copy To slip into her hand at the very next rout. Ink. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this?

Tra. Why, Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye, So far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime? Ink. As sublime! If it be so, no need of my Muse. Tra. But consider, dear Inkel, she's one of the

"Blues."

Ink. Assublime!-Mr. Tracy-I've nothing to say. Stick to prose-As sublime!!—but I wish you good

day.

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

wrong;

I own it; but, prithee, compose me the song.
Ink. As sublime !!

Tra.

I but used the expression in haste. Ink. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damn'd bad taste.

Tra. I own it—I know it—acknowledge it—what Can I say to you more?

Ink. I see what you'd be at: You disparage my parts with insidious abuse, [use. Till you think you can turn them best to your own Tra. And is that not a sign I respect them?

Ink.

To be sure makes a difference.

Why that

I know what is what:

Tra.
And you, who're a man of the gay world, no less
Than a poet of t'other, may easily guess

That I never could mean, by a word, to offend
A genius like you, and moreover my friend.

Ink. No doubt; you by this time should know

what is due

To a man of-but come-let us shake hands.

Tra.

You knew,

And you know, my dear fellow, how heartily I, Whatever you publish, am ready to buy. [for sale;

Ink. That's my bookseller's business; I care not Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.

There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays,(1) And my own grand romance.

Tra.

Had its full share of praise.

(1) [Messrs. Southey and Sotheby.]

I myself saw it puff'd in the "Old Girl's Review."(1)

That it threaten'd to give up the ghost t'other day. Ink. Well, that is a sign of some spirit.

Tra.

No doubt. Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout? Ink. I've a card, and shall go: but at present, as

soon

[the moon As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from (Where he seems to be soaring in search of his wits), And an interval grants from his lecturing fits, I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation, To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation: 'Tis a sort of re-union for Scamp, on the days

Of his lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and praise.

And I own,

for my own part, that 'tis not unpleasant. Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present. Tra. That "metal's attractive."

Ink.

No doubt to the pocket.

(1) ["My Grandmother's Review, the British"-See Vol. IV. antè, P. 187. This heavy journal has since been gathered to its grandmothers.]

(2) [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 compliment, when he made this comparison.-E.]

Tra. You should rather encourage my passion than shock it.

But let us proceed; for I think, by the hum

Ink. 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.
Ay! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join
Your friends, or he'll pay you back in your own coin.
Tra. All fair; 'tis but lecture for lecture.
Ink.
That's clear.
But for God's sake let's go, or the Bore will be here.

Come, come: nay, I'm off.

Tra.

[Exit INKEL. You are right, and I'll follow; 'Tis high time for a "Sic me servavit Apollo." (1) 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.

[Exit TRACY.

(1) ["Sotheby is a good man-rhymes well (if not wisely); but is a bore. He seizes you by the button. One night of a rout at Mrs. Hope's, he had fastened upon me- (something about Agamemnon, or Orestes, or some of his plays) notwithstanding 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 me by the button and the heart-strings, and spared neither. William Spencer, who likes fun, and don't dislike mischief, saw my case, and coming up to us both, took me by the hand, and pathetically bade me farewell; "for," said he, "I see it is all over with you." Sotheby then went away: sic me servavit Apollo.'"- B. Diary, 1821.]