Luck. [Reads.] "Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear; Mar. sen. Augh! will you please to read that again, sir? Luck. "Then hence my sorrow, hence my ev'ry fear." Mar. sen. "Then hence my sorrow."—Horror is a much better word.—And then in the second line—"No matter where, so we are bless'd together."—Undoubtedly, it should be, "No matter where, so somewhere we're together." Where is the question, somewhere is the answer.—Read on, sir. Luck. "With thee,——" Mar. sen. No, no, I could alter those lines to a much better idea. "With thee, the barren blocks, where not a bit Luck. Green as Covent-garden! Mar. jun. Yes, yes; Covent-garden market, where they sell greens. Luck. Monstrous! Mar. sen. Pray, sir, read on. Luck. "LEANDRA: oh, my Harmonio, I could hear thee still; Mar. jun. Here's meat, drink, singing, and lodging, egad. Luck. He answers. Mar. jun. But, sir—— Luck. "Oh, let me pull thee, press thee to my heart, Mar. sen. Those two last lines again if you please. Luck. "Thou'st made," &c. Mar. jun. "——Thou flood of joy, Those are two excellent lines indeed: I never writ better myself: but, Sar—— Luck. "Leandra's mine, go bid the tongue of fate There ends act the first, and such an act as, I believe, never was on this stage yet. Mar. jun. Nor never will, I hope. Mar. sen. Pray, sir, let me look at one thing. "Falernian wines seem bitter to my taste." Pray, sir, what sort of wines may your Falernian be? for I never heard of them before; and I am sure, as I keep the best company, if there had been such sorts of wines, I should have tasted them. Tokay I have drank, and Lacrimas I have drank, but what your Falernian is, the devil take me if I can tell. Mar. jun. I fancy, father, these wines grow at the top of Parnassus. Luck. Do they so, Mr Pert? why then I fancy you have never tasted them. Mar. sen. Suppose you should say the wines of Cape are bitter to my taste. Luck. Sir, I cannot alter it. Mar. sen. Nor we cannot act it. It won't do, sir, and so you need give yourself no farther trouble about it. Luck. What particular fault do you find? Mar. jun. Sar, there's nothing that touches me, nothing that is coercive to my passions. Luck. Fare you well, sir: may another play be coercive to your passions. |