Imatges de pàgina

Sir Charles. Oh, yes, I take. But, by the cockade in your hat, Ollapod, you have added lately, it seems to your avocations.

Olla. My dear Sir Charles, I have now the honour to be cornet in the volunteer association corps of our town. It fell out unexpected-pop on a sudden; like the going off of a field-piece, or an alderman in an apoplexy.

Sir C. Explain.

Olla. Happening to be at home-rainy day-no going out to sport, blister, shoot, nor bleed—was busy behind the counter-You know my shop, Sir Charles-Galen's head over the door-new gilt him last week, by the by-looks as fresh as a pill.

Sir C. Well, no more on that head now-Proceed.

Olla. On that head! That's very well, very well indeed! Thank you, good sir, I owe you one-Churchwarden Posh, of our town, being ill of an indigestion, from eating three pounds of measly pork, at a vestry dinner, I was making up a cathartic for the patient; when, who should strut into the shop, but Lieutenant Grains, the brewer -sleek as a dray horse—in a smart scarlet jacket, tastily turn’d up with a rhubarb-coloured lapelle. I confess his figure struck me. I look'd at him, as I was thumping the mortar, and felt instantly inoculated with a military ardour.

Sir C. Inoculated! I hope your ardour was of a very favourable sort.

Olla. Ha! ha! That's very well-very well, indeed !Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.

We first talk'd of shooting—He knew my celebrity that way, Sir Charles. I told him, the day before, I had kill'd six brace of birds--I thump'd on at the mortar-We then talk'd of physic-I told him, the day before, I had kill'd—lost, I mean-six brace of patients—I thump'd on at the mortar-eyeing him all the while ; for he look'd mighty flashy, to be sure ; and I felt an itching to belong to the corps. The medical, and military, both deal in death, you know—so, 'twas natural. Do you take, good sir ? do you take?

Sir C. Take ? Oh, nobody can miss.

Olla. He then talk'd of the corps itself: said it was sickly: and if a professional person would administer to the health of the association-dose the men, and drench the horse—he could, perhaps, procure him a cornetcy.

Sir C. Well, you jump'd at the offer ?

Olla. Jump'd! I jump'd over the counter-kick'd down Churchwarden Posh's cathartic, into the pocket of Lieuten

ant Grains's smart scarlet jacket, tastily turn'd up with a rhubarb-coloured lapelle; embraced him and his offer, and I am now Cornet Ollapod, apothecary, at the Galen's Head, of the association corps of cavalry, at your service.

Sir C. I wish you joy of your appointment. You may now distil water for the shop, from the laurels you gather in the field. Olla. Water for-Oh! laurel water.

Come, that's very well—very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.

Why, I fancy fame will follow, when the poison of a small mistake I made has ceased to operate.

Sir C. A mistake?

Olla. Having to attend Lady Kitty Carbuncle on a grand field day, I clapped a pint bottle of her ladyship's diet-drink into one of my holsters ; intending to proceed to the patient, after the exercise was over. I reach'd the martial ground, and jallop'd-gallop’d, I mean-wheeld, and flourish’d, with great eclát; but when the word “Fire". was given, meaning to pull out my pistol, in a horrible hurry, I presented, neck foremost, the villanous diet-drink of Lady Kitty Carbuncle; and the medicine being, unfortunately, fermented, by the jolting of my horse, it forced out the cork, with a prodigious pop, full in the face of my gallant commander.

Sir C. But, in the midst of so many pursuits, how proceeds practice among the ladies ? Any new faces, since I left the country?

Olla. Nothing worth an item-Nothing new arrived in our town. In the village, to be sure, hard by, Miss Emily Worthington, a most brilliant beauty has lately given lustre to the estate of Farmer Harrowby.

Sir C. My dear Doctor, the lady of all others I wish most to know. Introduce yourself to the family, and pave the way for me. Come! mount your horse—I'll explain more as you go to the stable :--but I am in a flame, in a fever, till I see you off.

Olla. In a fever ! I'll send you physic enough to fill a baggage waggon.

Sir C. [Aside.] So! a long bill as the price of his politeness!

Olla. You need not bleed; but you must have medicine.

Sir C. If I must have medicine, Ollapod, I fancy 1 shall bleed pretty freely. Olla. Come, that's

well! very

well indeed! Thank

you, good sir, I owe you one. Before dinner, a strong dose of coloquintida, senna, scammony, and gamboge;

Sir C. Oh, confound scammony and gamboge!

Olla. At night a narcotic; next day, saline draughts, camphorated julap, and —

Sir C. Zounds! only go, and I'll swallow your whole shop.

Olla. Galen, forbid ! 'Tis enough to kill every customer I have in the parish !—Then we'll throw in the bark -By the by, talking of bark, Sir Charles, that Juno of yours is the prettiest pointer

Sir C. Well, well, she is yours.

Olla. My dear Sir Charles ! such sport next shooting season! If I had but a double barrell’d gun

Sir C. Take mine that hangs in the hall.

Olla. My dear Sir Charles !—Here's a morning's work ; senna and coloquintida

[Aside. Sir C. Well, be gone then.

[Pushing him. Olla. I'm off-Scammony and gamboge. Sir C. Nay, fly, man!

Olla. I do, Sir Charles—A double-barrell'd gun-) fly -the bark—I'm going—Juno-a narcotic

Sir C. Off with you!



Hear me,

Assembled lords and warriors of Illyria,
Hear, and avenge me! Twice ten years have I
Stood in your presence, honoured by the king :
Beloved and trusted. Is there one among you,
Accuses Raab Kiuprili of a bribe ?
Or one false whisper in his sovereign's ear?
Who here dares charge me with an orphan's rights
Outfaced, or widow's plea left undefended ?
And shall I now be branded by a traitor,
A bought-bribed wretch, who being called my son,
Doth libel a chaste matron's name, and plant
Hensbane and aconite on a mother's grave ?
The underling accomplice of a robber,
That from a widow and a widow's offspring

Would steal their heritage? To God a rebel,
And to the common father of his country
A recreant ingrate!
What means this clamour ? Are these madmen's voices ?
Or is some knot of riotous slanderers leagued
To infamize the name of the king's brother
With a black falsehood ? unmanly cruelty,
Ingratitude, and most unnatural treason?
What mean these murmurs ? Dare then any here
Proclaim Prince Emerick a spotted traitor ?
One that has taken from you your sworn faith,
And given you in return a Judas' bribe,
Infamy now, oppression in reversion,
And Heaven's inevitable curse hereafter?
Yet bear with me awhile! Have I for this
Bled for your safety, conquered for your honour !
Was it for this, Illyrians! that I forded
Your thaw-swoln torrents, when the shouldering ice
Fought with the foe, and stained its jagged points
With gore from wounds, I felt not? Did the blast
Beat on this body, frost-and-famine-numbed,
Till my hard flesh distinguished not itself
From the insensate mail, its fellow-warrior ?
And have I brought home with me victory,
And with her, hand in hand, firm-footed peace,
Her countenance twice lighted up with glory,
As if I had charmed a goddess down froin heaven!
But these will flee abhorrent from the throne
Of usurpation! Have you then thrown off shame,
And shall not a dear friend, a loyal subject,
Throw off all fear? I tell ye, the fair trophies,
Valiantly wrested from a valiant foe,
Love's natural offerings to a rightful king,
Will hang as ill on this usurping traitor,
This brother-blight, this Emerick, as robes
Of gold plucked from the images of gods
Upon a sacrilegious robber's back.



Ordonio. Hail, potent wizard ! in my gayer mood
I poured forth a libation to old Pluto,
And as I brimmed the bowl, I thought on thee.

Thou hast conspired against my life and honour,
Hast tricked me foully

; yet I hate thee not.
Why should I hate thee? this same world of ours,
'Tis but a pool amid a storm of rain,
And we the air-bladders that course up and down,
And joust and tilt in merry tournament;
And when one bubble runs foul of another,
The weaker needs must break.

I see thy heart!
There is a frightful glitter in thine eye,
Which doth betray thee. Inly-tortured man,
This is the revelry of a drunken anguish,
Which fain would scoff away the pang of guilt,
And quell each human feeling.

Feeling! feeling !
The death of a man—the breaking of a bubble-
'Tis true I cannot sob for such misfortunes ;
But faintness, cold and hunger—curses on me
If willingly I e'er inflicted them !
Come, take the beverage; this chill place demands it.

Alv. Yon insect on the wall,
Which moves this way and that, its hundred limbs,
Were it a toy of mere mechanic craft,
It were an infinitely curious thing !
But it has life, Ordonio! life, enjoyment!
And by the power of its miraculous will
Wields all the complex movements of its frame
Unerringly to pleasurable ends!
Saw I that insect on this goblet's brim
I would remove it with an anxious pity!

Ord. What meanest thou ?

There's poison in the wine. Ord, Thou hast guessed right; there's poison in the

There's poison in't—which of us two shall drink it ?
For one of us must die!

Whom dost thou think me ?
Ord. The accomplice and sworn friend of Isidore.

I know him not.
And yet, methinks, I have heard the name but lately,

Ord. Good ! good ! that lie! it hath restored me.
Now I am thy master !—Villain! thou shalt drink it,
Or die a bitterer death.

What strange solution
Hast thou found out to satisfy thy fears,

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