Vol. If flattery will do, I can give his Lordship enough of that. La Cour. But how? how will you give it? Vol. 'Faith, you puzzle me, Count. I don't know-Do tell me how. La Cour. By his valet. Vol. Well. La Cour. Secure him-He is accessible to the force of money, and the price of his patronage is not beyond the reach of your means. Vol. I'll give the fellow twenty pounds for his good word-I will indeed. La Cour. Twenty guineas may do as a retainer; but more will be wanted in the course of the suit. Vol. But what will he do for me? La Cour. I will explain. When he observes his Lordship in negligent good humor, pleased with trifles, and disposed to please, he will softly, as it were from a distance, allude to you and the place. Some other time, while dressing his Lordship's hair, (during which operation the mind is always ductile and complacent,) he will state the business more fully; and thence, from day to day, as opportunity offers, he will continue to ply his dexterous intercession. Vol. What complicate machinery is necessary to set the promotion of a worthy man a-going! La Cour. For each time, after breaking the ice, he will expect a fresh fee. Vol. But how shall I apply to the valet? La Cour. I can assist you. Have you the money? Vol. Never was any thing more lucky-I have just received the sum, in payment for two sheets of animadversion, written for a bookseller, to blight the prosperous sale of a work which he had petulantly refused to publish. Repenting of his own folly, he endeavours to damn the author. La Cour. How is that?-Let me understand you.This is a sort of Machiavelism quite new to me. Vol. Indeed! I should have thought that your knowledge of the world would have taught you more than that. La Cour. No, my friend; we men of the world are accustomed to regard you literary characters as the only persons with whom the principle of virtue is preserved pure. We think that by your simplicity the vestal fire is kept alive in the world. Vol. Poh, Count, you know better. La Cour, Upon my honor I do not. Vol. Is there no quacking among physicians? no tricks among lawyers? no hypocrisy among preachers? And could you believe that the other liberal professors were less like the rest of mankind ? La Cour. But I had imagined, that, as the age of patrons was past, the booksellers had become the protectors of authors, and took no part in their cabals. Vol. Then you were mistaken-The booksellers have not only their own spites to indulge, but they find it profitable to set authors by the ears. La Cour. I might have thought so; for mankind delight in quarrels, and the booksellers are in controversy, what the innkeepers are at boxing-matches, and the army contractors in war-they thrive by the vices of individuals and the folly of the public. But, after all, what could the authors do without them? Vol. They would have to turn their own booksellers. La Cour. And why not? Vol. The dignity of their character, Count-the dignity of the literary character! La Cour. Aye, there it is-authors will think themselves superior to the rest of mankind; and the consequence is, that they are universally the most helpless of the human race. But I was not aware that the book sellers ever had the presumption to form any opinion of the contents of books. Vol. No! that's very odd. Lord, Count, how can you, who know so much of life, be so ignorant? Are not the booksellers men in authority, and not as the scribes: and do you think they never talk as such? Why, Sir, there is a fellow that does not know poetry from prose, except by the shape of the letter-press, and the name of the author, yet he will give you, in the twinkling of a few pages, as decisive an opinion on the merits of a work, as if he were actually Apollo. Indeed, were the God himself to offer one of his own compositions to a London bookseller, he would soon have reason to believe that the world has produced more than one Midas. La Cour. Thank Heaven, my wits never led me to become an author. Vol. But if I had not been one, I should not have had these notes to give you. Having no practice at the bar, I was obliged to turn critic, and, longing for official employment, I am necessitated to ingratiate myself with the booksellers. But, with your assistance, Count, I may be able to extricate myself from this state of degradation, this pandering to the malice of men in place or power, statesmen and booksellers. There, take the notes. La Cour. Thank you. By the by, Mr. Volume, do you know his Lordship? Vol. No; would that I did! my own personal address might then have some effect. La Cour. I will introduce you. Come with me; we may find him at home about this time. The Countess has a rout to-night-You must be there-I will procure a ticket for you. Vol. You are indeed a friend-this is indeed politeness. -But urbanity is the indigenous growth of France; in England it is an exotic, and never comes to fruit. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A Drawing-room. MISS SYLVAN, and MISS KITTY with a Parcel. Miss Kit. I will give my aunt a fright. Miss Syl. I entreat you not to play this farce any longer assume your proper character, and disregard her nonsense. Miss Kit. If it were possible to mend a foolish understanding by talking, all that you have said, Helen, would be mighty proper; but fools can only be taught by folly, and my aunt must feel that she is herself ridiculous, before she will refrain from attempting to make me so. Miss Syl. At any rate, play no tricks with these things. Honeysuckle is in the hall, and waits to take them home. Miss Kit. I cannot resist the temptation. Miss Syl. But what do you intend to do with them? Miss Kit. [Whispers.] Miss Syl. In the name of modesty, I conjure you not to pretend any thing so indelicate. Miss Kit. No prudery, cousin; women have the privilege of saying what they please when men are not present --but here she comes,― [Enter MISS NEGATIVE.] O dear what shall become of us? [feigning.] Miss Neg. How now, Minx, what have you there? Miss Kit. [Affects to conceal the bundle.] Nothing ;you see I have nothing in my hands. Miss Neg. Move from your place,-nove, instantly. Miss Syl. Do Kate, don't be silly. Miss Neg. [Pushes Kitty away, and seizes the bundle.] What is this? what are these? An infant's frock, a cap, another and another! For whom are these? What new monster is about to be added to the consumers of the means of subsistence. Miss Kit. O pity my poor cousin! Miss Syl. Goodness, Kate! do you allege it of me! Miss Kit. Indeed, indeed, she could not help it! Miss Neg. [To Miss Sylvan.] Let me look at your shapes. Miss Kit. O don't be rude; think of her unfortunate condition. Miss Syl. I can endure this no longer. Miss Kit. She thought I would not tell. Miss Neg. I am thunderstruck! Miss Syl. She is trifling with us both. Miss Neg. Approach not me, you incontinent slut : Do you know, Kitty, who was her seducer? Miss Kit. I will not tell that. Miss Neg. He ought to be shot! Miss Kit. But he may marry her yet. Miss Neg. Marry! He ought rather to be shot, that the world may have room for the addition he is making to the mass of suffering mankind. Miss Syl. I beseech you, madam Miss Neg. Well, madam? Miss Syl. This is all a trick; these clothes were bought for Honeysuckle, the gardener's wife; the poor creature has had another child. Miss Neg. Really! I declare the conduct of Honeysuckle and his wife is little better than crim con. How inconsiderate is Nature to allow such things! How durst you, Miss, presume to trifle with me-out of my insulted presence, instantly, I say. [Exeunt. |