House. Enter the Pe R-g-t solus. After a few broken sentences, he thus exclaims:

Away-away-

Thou haunt'st my fancy so, thou devilish Book!

I meet thee-trace thee, wheresoe'er I look.

I see thy

ink in Eld-n's brow

I see thy foolscap upon H-rtf-d's spouse-
V-ns-tt-t's head calls thy leathern case,

And all thy blank-leaves stare from R-d-r's face!

While, turning here (laying his hand on his heart) I find, ah wretched elf!

Thy list of dire errata in myself.

(Walks the stage in considerable agitation.)

Oh Roman punch! oh potent Curaçoa!
Oh Mareschino! Mareschino oh!

Delicious drams! why have you not the art
To kill this gnawing Book-worm in my heart?

He is here interrupted in his soliloquy by perceiving some scribbled fragments of paper on the ground, which he collects, and "by the light of two magnificent candelabras" discovers the following unconnected words: Wife neglected"-" the Book "Wrong Measures"—the Queen"-" Mr Lambert”—" the R-g-t." Ha! treason in my House!-Curst words that wither

My princely soul (shaking the papers violently), what demon brought you hither?

My wife!"-"the Book" too!-stay-a nearer look(Holding the fragments closer to the candelabras.)

Alas! too plain-B, double O, K—Book

Death and destruction!

-e

He here rings all the bells, and a whole legion of valets enter. A scene of cursing and swearing (very much in the German style) ensues, in the course of which messengers are dispatched, in different directions, for the L-rd Ch-nc-ll-r, the Dof C-b-1-d, &c., &c.-The intermediate time is filled up by another soliloquy, at the conclusion of which the aforesaid personages rush on alarmed-the D-e with his stays only halflaced, and the Ch-nc-ll-r with his wig thrown hastily over an old red night-cap, "to maintain the becoming splendour of his office."* The R-g-t produces the appalling fragments, upon which the Ch-nc-ll-r breaks out into exclamations of loyalty and tenderness, and relates the following portentous dream :

"Tis scarcely two hours since

I had a fearful dream of thee, my P- -e!

Methought I heard thee, midst a courtly crowd,

To enable the individual who holds the office of Chancellor to maintain it in becoming splendour. (A loud laugh.)—Lord Castlereagh's Speech upon the Vice-Chancellor's Bili.

Say from thy throne of gold, in mandate loud,

66

Worship my whiskers!"-(weeps) not a knee was there But bent and worshipp'd the illustrious pair,

That curl'd in conscious majesty! (pulls out his handkerchief) -while cries

Of "Whiskers, whiskers" shook the echoing skies!—
Just in that glorious hour, methought, there came,
With looks of injur'd pride, a princely dame,

And a young maiden, clinging to her side,
As if she fear'd some tyrant would divide

The hearts that nature and affection tied!

The Matron came-within her right hand glow'd
A radiant torch; while from her left a load

Of papers hung-(wipes his eyes)-collected in her veil
The venal evidence, the slanderous tale,
The wounding hint, the current lies that pass
From post to courier, form'd the motley mass;
Which, with disdain, before the throne she throws,
And lights the pile beneath thy princely nose.
Heavens, how it blaz'd!-I'd ask no livelier fire
(With animation) to roast a papist by, my gracious sire !--
But ah! the evidence-(weeps again) I mourn'd to see-
Cast, as it burn'd, a deadly light on thee!

(Weeps)

And tales and hints their random sparkles flung,
And hiss'd and crackled, like an old maid's tongue,
While Post and Courier, faithful to their fame,
Made up in stink for what they lack'd in flame!
When, lo, ye gods!-the fire, ascending brisker,
Now singes one, now lights the other whisker-
Ah! where was then the Sylphid, that unfurls
Her fairy standard in defence of curls?—
Throne, whiskers, wig soon vanish'd into smoke,
The watchman cried "past one," and-I awoke.

Here his Lordship weeps more profusely than ever, and the R-g-t (who has been very much agitated during the recital of the dream) by a movement as characteristic as that of Charles XII. when he was shot, claps his hands to his whiskers to feel if all be really safe. A Privy Council is held-all the servants, &c., are examined-and it appears that a tailor, who had come to measure the R-g-t for a dress (which takes three whole pages of the best superfine clinquant in describing) was the only person who had been in the Bourbon chamber during the day. It is, accordingly, determined to seize the tailor, and the Council breaks up with a unanimous resolution to be vigorous.

The commencement of the second Act turns chiefly upon the trial and imprisonment of two brothers; but as this forms the under plot of the drama, I shall content myself with extracting from it the following speech, which is addressed to the two brothers, as they "exeunt severally" to prison :--

is highly skilful; and the alarm, which he is made to betray, is natural without being ludicrous. The explanation, too, which he finally gives is not more simple than satisfactory. It appears that the said fragments formed part of a self-exculpatory note, which he had intended to send to Colonel M'M-n upon subjects purely professional, and the corresponding bits (which still lie luckily in his pocket) being produced, and skillfully laid beside the others, the following billet-doux is the satisfactory result of their juxtaposition:

Honour'd Colonel-my Wife, who's the Queen of all slatterns, Neglected to put up the Book of new patterns.

She sent the wrong Measures too-shamefully wrong— They're the same us'd for poor Mr Lambert, when young; But, bless you! they wouldn't go half round the R-g-tSo, hope you'll excuse your's, till death, most obedient.

This fully explains the whole mystery-the R-g-t resumes his wonted smiles, and the drama terminates, as usual, to the satisfaction of all parties.

LETTER VIII.

FROM COLONEL TH-M-S TO

, ESQ.

COME to our Fete,* and bring with thes
Thy newest, best embroidery!

Come to our Fete, and show again

That pea-green coat, thou pink of men!

Which charm'd all eyes, that last survey'd it;

When Br-mm-l's self inquir'd "who made it ?”-
When cits came wond'ring, from the East,
And thought the poet Pye at least!
Oh! come- -(if haply 'tis thy week
For looking pale)-with paly cheek;
Though more we love thy roseate days,
When the rich rouge-pot pours its blaze
Full o'er thy face, and, amply spread,
Tips ev'n thy whisker-tops with red-
Like the last tints of dying day
That o'er some darkling grove delay!
Bring thy best lace, thou gay Philander!
(That lace, like H-rry Al-x-nd-r,
Too precious to be wash'd!)-thy rings,
Thy seals-in short, thy prettiest things!
Put all thy wardrobe's glories on,

And yield, in frogs and fringe, to none

This letter enclosed a card for the grand Fete on the 5th of February,

But the great R-g-t's self alone!
Who-by particular desire-

For that night only, means to hire
A dress from Romeo C-tes, Esquire-
Something between ('twere sin to hack it)
The Romeo robe and hobby jacket!
Hail, first of actors!* best of R-g-t's!
Born for each other's fond allegiance!
Both gay Lotharios-both good dressers-
Of serious farce both learn'd professors-
Both circled round, for use or show,
With cock's-combs, wheresoe'er they go!
Thou know'st the time, thou man of lore
It takes to chalk a ball-room floor-
Thou know'st the time too, well-a-day!
It takes to dance that chalk away.t
The ball-room opens-far and nigh
Comets and suns beneath us lie;
O'er snowy moons and stars we walk,
And the floor seems a sky of chalk!
But soon shall fade the bright deceit,
When many a maid, with busy feet
That sparkle in the lustre's ray,
O'er the white path shall bound and play
Like nymphs along the Milky Way!—
At every step a star is fled,

And suns grow dim beneath their tread!
So passeth life-(thus Sc-tt would write,
And spinsters read him with delight)—
Hours are not feet, yet hours trip on,
Time is not chalk, yet time's soon gone!!
But, hang this long digressive flight!
I meant to say, thou'lt see, that night,
What falsehood rankles in their hearts,
Who say the P- -e neglects the arts-
Neglects the arts!-no S! no;
Thy Cupids answer ""Tis not so;"

* Quem tu, Melpomene, semel

Nascentem placido lumine, videris, &c.-Hora.
The man upon whom thou hast deign'd to look funny,
Thou great Tragic Muse! at the hour of his birth-

Let them say what they will, that's the man for my money,

Give others thy tears, but let me have thy mirth!

To those who neither go to balls nor read the Morning Post, it may be necessary to mention that the floors of ball-rooms, in general, are chalked, for safety and for ornament, with various fanciful devices.

"Hearts are not flint, yet flints are rent,

Hearts are not steel, yet steel is bent."