Roch. Bid him wait in the ante-room.

Tin.

The ante-room!

[WILLIAMS goes out.

The best room in your house! You do not know
The use of Richard Cricket! Show him, sir,
Into the drawing-room. Your lordship needs
Must keep a racing-stud, and you'll do well
To make a friend of Richard Cricket. Well, sir,
What's that?

Will.

Enter WILLIAMS.

So please your lordship, a petition.
Tin. Hadst not a service 'mongst the Hottentots
Ere thou camest hither, friend? Present thy lord
With a petition! At mechanics' doors,

At tradesmen's, shopkeepers', and merchants' only
Have such things leave to knock! Make thy lord's gate
A wicket to a workhouse! Let us see it-

Subscriptions to a book of poetry!

Cornelius Tense, A.M.,

Which means he construes Greek and Latin, works

Problems in mathematics, can chop logic,

And is a conjuror in philosophy,

Both natural and moral.-Pshaw! a man

Whom nobody, that is, anybody, knows.

Who, think you, follows him? Why, an M.D.,

An F.R.S., an F.A.S., and then

A D.D., Doctor of Divinity,

Ushering in an LL.D., which means

Doctor of Laws-their harmony, no doubt,

The difference of their trades! There's nothing here
But languages, and sciences, and arts,

Not an iota of nobility!

We cannot give our names.

Take back the paper,

And tell the bearer there is no answer for him :-
That is the lordly way of saying "No."

RICHELIEU.

LORD LYTTON.

[THE following scene is from "Richelieu," a spirited play, successfully produced on the stage, although not of such enduring popularity as the author's most attractive "Lady of Lyons." We give the passages, omitting certain lines which are indicated by the author as omitted in the representation.]

Rich. (Ringing a small bell on the table.) Huguet !

Enter HUGUET.

De Mauprat struggled not, nor murmured?

Huguet. No; proud and passive.

Rich.

Bid him enter.-Hold;

Look that he hide no weapon. Humph, despair

Makes victims sometimes victors. When he has entered, Glide round unseen;-place thyself yonder, (pointing to the screen;) watch him;

If he show violence-(let me see thy carbine;

So, a good weapon ;)-if he play the lion,

Why the dog's death.

Huguet.

I never miss my mark.

[Exit HUGUET; RICHELIEU seats himself at the table, and slowly arranges the papers before him. Enter DE Maufrat, preceded by HUGUET, who then retires behind the screen. Rich. Approach, sir.-Can you call to mind the hour, Now three years since, when in this room, methinks, Your presence honoured me?

De Mau.

One of my most

Rich. (Dryly.)

It is, my lord,

Delightful recollections.

De Mau. (Aside.) St Denis! Doth he make a jest of axe

And headsman ?

Rich. (Sternly.) I did then accord you

A mercy ill requited-you still live.

Doom'd to sure death, how hast thou since consumed

The time allotted thee for serious thought

And solemn penitence?

De Mau. (Embarrassed.) The time, my lord?

Rich. Is not the question plain? I'll answer for thee.
Thou hast sought nor priest nor shrine; no sackcloth chafed
Thy delicate flesh. The rosary and the death's head
Have not, with pious meditation, purged

Earth from the carnal gaze. What thou hast not done,
Brief told; what done, a volume! Wild debauch,
Turbulent riot:-for the morn the dice box-
Noon claimed the duel—and the night the wassail,
These your most holy, pure preparatives

For death and judgment. Do I wrong you, sir?

De Mau. I was not always thus :-if changed my nature,
Blame that which changed my fate.-Alas, my lord,
Were you accursed with that which you inflicted-
By bed and board, dogged by one ghastly spectre-
The while within you youth beat high, and life
Grew lovelier from the neighbouring frown of death-
The heart no bud, nor fruit-save in those seeds
Most worthless, which spring up, bloom, bear, and wither
In the same hour.-Were this your fate, perchance
You would have erred like me!

Rich.

I might, like you,

Have been a brawler and a reveller; not,

Like you, a trickster and a thief.

De Mau. (Advancing threateningly.) Lord Cardinal !

Unsay those words;

[HUGUET deliberately raises the carbine.

Rich. (Waving his hand.) Not quite so quick, friend Huguet; Messire de Mauprat is a patient man,

And he can wait!

You have outrun your fortune ;—

I blame you not, that you would be a beggar-
Each to his taste!—But I do charge you, sir,
That being beggared, you would coin false moneys

Out of that crucible, called DEBT.-To live

On means not yours-be brave in silks and laces,
Gallant in steeds-splendid in banquets ;-all
Not yours-ungiven-unherited-unpaid for ;-
This is to be a trickster; and to filch

Men's art and labour, which to them is wealth,
Life, daily bread,-quitting all scores with " Friend,
You're troublesome !"-Why this, forgive me,

Is what-when done with a less dainty grace

Plain folks call " Theft!"-You owe eight thousand pistoles,
Minus one crown, two liards !-

De Mau. (Aside.)

The old conjuror I

'Sdeath, he'll inform me next how many cups

I drank at dinner!

Rich

This is scandalous,

Shaming your birth and blood.—I tell you, sir,

That you must pay your debts

De Mau.

With all my heart,

My Lord. Where shall I borrow then the money?

Rich. (Aside and laughing.) A humorous dare-devil !—The very

man

To suit my purpose-ready, frank, and bold!

[Rising and earnestly.
Adrien de Mauprat, men have called me cruel ;—
I am not; I am just !—I found France rent asunder,
The rich men despots, and the poor banditti ;-
Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple;
Brawls festering to rebellion; and weak laws
Rotting away with rest in antique sheaths.-
I have recreated France: and from ashes
Of the old feudal and decrepit carcase,
Civilisation on her luminous wings

Soars, phoenix-like, to Jove !—What was my art?
Genius, some say,-some, Fortune-Witchcraft, some.
Not so my art was Justice !-Force and Fraud
Misname it cruelty-you shall confute them,

My champion You !-You meet me as your foe,

Depart my friend. You shall not die.-France needs you.
You shall wipe off all stains,-be rich, be honoured,

4

Be great.

[THE poets, in general, are amongst the best of the prose writers. In these volumes we have given many examples of the prose of poets. We add one of Byron. Before the close of this work we shall give one specimen of Byron's poetry, in addition to the dramatic specimen of "Manfred." The following extract is from his controversial pamphlet on the merits of Pope-a controversy in which some nonsense was said on both sides, but which had the merit of being less dull than most disputes, literary or political.]

Mr Bowles asserts that Campbell's "Ship of the Line"* derives all its poetry, not from "art," but from "nature." "Take away

"Those who have ever witnessed the spectacle of the launching of a ship of the line, will perhaps forgive me for adding this to the example of the sublime objects of artificial life. Of that spectacle I can never forget the impres Gion, and of having witnessed it reflected from the faces of ten thousand specta.