What the thoughts were which led to this bad interjection,

Sir, or Madam, I leave to your future detection;

For whatever they were, they were burst in upon,
As the door was burst through, by my lord's Cousin
John.

COUSIN JOHN.

A fool, Alfred, a fool, a most motley fool!

LORD ALFRED.

Who?

JOHN.

The man who has anything better to do;
And yet so far forgets himself, so far degrades
His position as Man, to this worst of all trades,
Which even a well-brought-up ape were above,
To travel about with a woman in love,-

Unless she's in love with himself.

I had rather be bored, my dear Alfred, by you,
On the whole (I must own), than be bored by myself.
That perverse, imperturbable, golden-hair'd elf-
Your Will-o'-the-wisp-that has led you and me
Such a dance through these hills-

ALFRED.

Who, Matilda?

JOHN.

Yes! she,

Of course! who but she could contrive so to keep
One's eyes, and one's feet too, from falling asleep
For even one half-hour of the long twenty-four?

What's the matter?

ALFRED.

JOHN.

Why, she is a matter, the more

I consider about it, the more it demands

An attention it does not deserve; and expands
Beyond the dimensions which ev'n crinoline,
When possess'd by a fair face and saucy Eighteen,
Is entitled to take in this very small star,

Already too crowded, as I think, by far.
You read Malthus and Sadler?

ALFRED.

Of course.

JOHN.

To what use,

When you countenance, calmly, such monstrous abuse Of one mere human creature's legitimate space

In this world? Mars, Apollo, Virorum! the case
Wholly passes my patience.

Yours, Alfred?

ALFRED.

My own is worse tried.

JOHN.

ALFRED.

Read this, if you doubt, and decide. JOHN (reading the letter).

I hear from Bigorre you are there. I am told

You are going to marry Miss Darcy. Of oldWhat is this?

ALFRED.

Read it on to the end, and you'll know.
JOHN (continues reading (.

When we parted, your last words recorded a vow'What you will'

Hang it! this smells all over, I swear,

Of adventures and violets. Was it your hair
You promised a lock of?

'Those letters I ask you, my lord, to return.' .

Humph! . . . Letters!

I guess'd;

I have my misgivings

the matter is worse than

And advise.

ALFRED.

Well, read out the rest,

JOHN.

Eh?... Where was I?

(continues)

'Miss Darcy perchance

'Will forego one brief page from the summer romance

Of her courtship.'

Egad! a romance, for my part,

I'd forego every page of, and not break my heart!

You ask me, just what I would rather ask you.

You can't go.

JOHN.

Must I? I decline it, though, flat.

In an hour the horses will be at the door,
And Matilda is now in her habit. Before

I have finish'd my breakfast, of course I receive

A message for dear Cousin John!' . . . I must leave At the jeweller's the bracelet which you broke last night;

I must call for the music. 'Dear Alfred is right: "The black shawl looks best: will I change it? of course 'I can just stop, in passing, to order the horse. 'Then Beau has the mumps, or St Hubert knows what; 'Will I see the dog-doctor?' Hang Beau! I will not.

ALFRED.

Tush, tush! this is serious.

JOHN,

It is.

ALFRED.

Very well,

You must think

JOHN.

What excuse will you make tho'?