James Merrick The Chameleon OFT has it been my lot to mark Two travellers of such a cast, " Sure never lived beneath the sun: And what a length of tail behind! "Hold, there!" the other quick replies; "I've seen it, sir, as well as you, "'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." So high at last the contest rose, To him the question they referr'd, "Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother; The creature's neither one nor t'other. I caught the animal last night, "And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." "Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," He said; and full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo! 'twas white. Both stared; the man look'd wondrous wise. "My children," the Chameleon cries (Then first the creature found a tongue), When next you talk of what you view, David Garrick The Dictated Letter HARRIET and HEARTLY, her Guardian. Har. I hope you are not angry, sir, that I left you so abruptly, without making any apology. Heart. I am angry that you think an apology necessary. The matter we are upon is of such a delicate nature that I am more pleased with your confusion than I should have been with your excuses. You'll pardon me, my dear? Har. I have reflected that the person for whom I have conceived a most tender regard may, from the wisest motives, doubt my passion; and therefore I would endeavour to answer all his objections, and convince him how deserving he is of my highest esteem. Heart. I have not yet apprehended what kind of dispute could arise between you and Mr. Clackit; but I would advise you both to come to a reconciliation as soon as possible. Har. (aside). He still continues in his error, and I cannot undeceive him. Heart. Shall I take the liberty of telling you, my dear? (Takes her hand.). You tremble, Harriet. What is the matter with you? Har. Nothing, sir. Pray go on. You Heart. I guess whence proceeds all this uneasiness. fear that the world will not be so readily convinced of this young gentleman's merits as you are; and, indeed, I could wish him more deserving of you; but your regard for him gives him a merit he otherwise would have wanted, and almost makes me blind to his failings. Har. And would you advise me, sir, to make choice of this gentleman? Heart. I would advise you, as I always have done, to consult your own heart on such an occasion. Har. If that is your advice, I will most religiously follow it; and, for the last time, I am resolved to discover my real sentiments. But as a confession of this kind will not become me, I have been thinking of some innocent strategem to spare my blushes, and, in part, to relieve me from the shame of a declaration. Might I be permitted to write to him? Heart. I think you may, my dear, without the least offence to your delicacy; and, indeed, you ought to explain yourself; your late misunderstanding makes it absolutely necessary. Har. Will you be kind enough to assist me? Will you write it for me, sir? Heart. Oh, most willingly; and as I am made a party, it will remove all objections. Har. I will dictate to you in the best manner I am able. (Sighs.), Heart. Here is pen, ink, and paper; and now, my dear, I am ready. He is certainly of a good family; and though he has some little faults, time and your virtues will correct them. Come, what shall I write? (Prepares to write.) Har. Pray, give me a moment's thought. 'Tis a terrible task, Mr. Heartly. Heart. I know it is. Don't hurry yourself; I shall wait with patience. Har. (dictating). "It is in vain for me to conceal from one of your understanding the secrets of my heart" |