Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/623

ECL. II.] In science and art, I'll be cursed if I know

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,

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 ";"

A rabble who know not But soft, here they come!

Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I'll be dumb.

I pray ye be seated, "sans cérémonie."

Mr. Scamp, you're fatigued; take your chair there, next me. [They all sit.

Lady Bluemount—Miss Lilac—be pleased, pray, to place ye;

And you, Mr. Botherby—

You were not at the lecture.