The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 107

_Ink_. Very true; let us go, then, before they can come, Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levee, 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-cathedra tone.[619] 150 Aye! 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 G.o.d's sake let's go, or the Bore will be here.

Come, come: nay, I'm off.

[_Exit_ INKEL.

_Tra_. You are right, and I'll follow; 'Tis high time for a "_Sic me servavit Apollo_."[620]

And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes,[621]

Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes, All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles With a gla.s.s of Madeira[622] at Lady Bluebottle's. 160 [_Exit_ TRACY.

ECLOGUE THE 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+ning, In science and art, I'll be cursed if I know 10 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, humorous, backbiting 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, 20 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 G.o.d 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, etc., etc._

_Lady Blueb_.

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

_Sir Rich_. (_bows, and afterwards aside_).

If friends, they're the first.

_Lady Blueb_. But the luncheon attends.

I pray ye be seated, "_sans ceremonie_."

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

[_They all sit._

_Sir Rich_. (_aside_). If he does, his fatigue is to come.

_Lady Blueb_. Mr. Tracy-- Lady Bluemount--Miss Lilac--be pleased, pray, to place ye; 31 And you, Mr. Botherby--

_Both_. 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, 40 I allow our friend Scamp has 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_. d.i.c.k 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 gla.s.s of Madeira?

_Lady Bluem_. With pleasure.

_Ink_. How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere treasure?

Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings,[623]

And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and kings?

_Lady Bluem_. He has just got a place.[624]

_Ink_. As a footman?

_Lady Bluem_. For shame!

Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name. 51

_Ink_. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his master; For the poet of pedlers '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 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--

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