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Sir Lucius. For instance, now—if that should be the case—would you choose to be pickled and sent honne ?-or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey ?—I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey.

Acres. Pickled !-Snug lying in the Abbey !--Odds tremors ! Sir Lucius, don't talk so !

Sir Lucius. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before ?

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before.

Sir Lucius. Ah! that's a pity !—there's nothing like being used to a thing ---Pray now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot?

Acres. Odds files !—I've practised that~-there, Sir Luciusthere. -[Puts himself in an attitude.] A side front, hey? Odd, I'll make myself small enough : I'll stand edgeways.

Sir Lucius. Now—you're quite out-for if you stand so when I takie my aim

[Levelling at him. Acres. Zounds! Sir Lucius—are you sure it is not cocked ? Sir Lucius. Never fear. Acres. But-but-you don't know-it may go off of its own head !

Sir Lucius. Pho! be easy.-Well, now if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance-for if it misses a vital part of your right side'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left ! Acres. A vital part ! Sir Lucius. But, there—fix yourself so—[Placing him]-let him

see the broadside of your full front-there--now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do any harm at all.

Acres. Clean through me!-a ball or two clean through me!

Sir Lucius. Ay-may they—and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain.

Acres. Look’ee ! Sir Lucius—I'd just as lieve be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one; so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways.

Sir Lucius. [Looking at his watch.] Sure they don't mean to disappoint us- -Hah!-no, faith-I think I see them coming.

Acres. Hey !-what !-coming !--
Sir Lucius. Ay.—Who are those yonder getting over the stile ?

Acres. There are two of them indeed !-well— let them come-hey, Sir Lucius !-we-we-we-we-won't run.

Sir Lucius. Run!
Acres. No-I say--we won't run, by my valour!
Sir Lucius. What the devil's the matter with you ?

Acres. Nothing—nothing—my dear friend—my dear Sir Luciusbut I-I-I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did.

Sir Lucius. O fy !-consider your honour.

Acres. Ay—true—my honour. Do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two every now and then about my honour. Sir Lucius. Well, here they're coming.

[Looking. Acres. Sir Lucius—if I wa'n't with you, I should almost think I was afraid.- If my valour should leave me !—Valour will come and go. Sir Lucius. Then pray keep it fast, while you have it. Acres. Sir Lucius—I doubt it is going--yes—my valour is cer


tainly going !-it is sneaking off !—I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands !

Sir Lucius. Your honour-your honour.--Here they are.

Acres. O mercy !- -that I was safe at Clod-Hall! or could be shot before I was aware !



Sir Lucius. Gentlemen, your most obedient.--Hah!-what, Captain Absolute !-So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself—to do a kind office, first for your friend—then to proceed to business on your own account.

Acres. What, Jack !-my dear Jack !--my dear friend!
Abs. Hark'ee, Bob, Beverley's at hand.

Sir Lucius. Well, Mr. Acres—I don't blame you saluting the gentleman civilly.—[To FAULKLAND.] So, Mr. Beverley, if you'll choose your weapons, the captain and I will measure the ground.

Faulk. My weapons, sir !

Acres. Odds life! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight Mr. Faulkland ; these are my particular friends.

Sir Lucius. What, sir, do you not come here to fight Mr. Acres ?
Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir.
Sir Lucius. Well, now, that 's mighty provoking! But I hope,

. Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the gan you won't

be so cantanckerous as to spoil the party by sitting out. Abs. O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius. Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter

Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland ;--I'll bear my disappointment like a Christian.—Look’ee, Sir Lucius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight; and if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone.

Sir Lucius. Observe me, Mr. Acres—I must not be trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody—and you came here to fight him. Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent him-I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing.

Acres. Why no-Sir Lucius-I tell you, 'tis one Beverley I've challenged—a fellow, you see, that dare not show his face !- If he were here, I'd make him give up his pretensions directly !

Abs. Hold, Bob—let me set you right-there is no such man as Beverley in the case. The person who assumed that name is before you ; and as his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is ready to support them in whatever way you please.

Sir Lucius. Well, this is lucky.-Now you have an opportunity

Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack Absolute ?--Not if he were fifty Beverleys! Zounds! Sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural.

Sir Lucius. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your valour has oozed away with a vengeance !

Acres. Not in the least! Odds backs and abettors! second with all my heart—and if you should get a quietus, you may commanā me entirely. I'll get you snug lying in the Abbey here ; or

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I'll be your

pickle you, and send you over to Blunderbuss-Hall, or anything of the kind, with the greatest pleasure.

Sir Lucius. Pho! pho! you are little better than a coward.

Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward ; coward was the word, by my valour !

Sir Lucius. Well, sir?

Acres. Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word cowardcoward may be said in joke-But if you had called me a poltroon, odds daggers and balls

Sir Lucius. Well, Sir ?
Acres, I should have thought you a very ill-bred man.
Sir Lucius. Pho! you are beneath my notice.

Abs. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second than my friend Acres—he is a most determined dog-called in the country Fighting Bob.—He generally kills a man a week—don't


Bob? Acres. Ay—at home!

Sir Lucius. Well, then, captain, 'tis we must begin—so come out, my little counsellor—[Draws his sword]—and ask the gentleman, whether he will resign the lady, without forcing you to proceed against him?

Abs. Come on then, sir—[Draws]; since you won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply.


O Loss of sight, of thee I most complain!
Blind among enemies, O worse than chains,
Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age !
Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct,
And all her various objects of delight
Annull’d, which might in part my grief have eased,
Inferior to the vilest now become
Of man or worm ; the vilest here excel me :
They creep, yet see ; I, dark in light, exposed
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,
Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
In power of others, never in my own ;
Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse
Without all hope of day !
O first-created beam, and thou great Word,
“Let there be light, and light was over all ;":
Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ?
The sun to me is dark
And silent as the moon,
When she deserts the night,
Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Since light so necessary is to life,

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And almost life itself, if it be true
That light is in the soul,
She all in every part; why was this sight
To such a tender ball as the eye confined,
So obvious and so easy to be quench'd ?
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused,
That she might look at will through every pore?
Then had I not been thus exiled from light,
As in the land of darkness, yet in light,
To live a life half dead, a living death,
And buried ; but, O yet more miserable !
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave :
Buried, yet not exempt,
By privilege of death and burial,
From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs :
But made hereby obnoxious mor
To all the miseries of life.


Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully lifts the head, and lies,
There dwelt a citizen of sober fame,
A plain good man, and Balaam was his name;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth,
His word would pass for more than he was worth.
One solid dish his week-day meal affords,
An added pudding solemnized the Lord's ;
Constant at church, and 'Change ; his gains were sure,
His givings rare, save farthings to the poor.

The devil was piqued such saintship to behold,
And longed to tempt him, like good Job of old ;
But Satan now is wiser than of yore,
And tempts by making rich, not making poor.

Roused by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds sweep
The surge, and plunge his father in the deep;
Then full against his Cornish lands they roar,
And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky shore.

Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks,
He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes.
“Live like yourself," was soon my lady's word ;
And lo! two puddings smoked upon the board.

Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,
An honest factor stole a gem away ;
He pledged it to the knight, the knight had wit,
So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit.

Some scruple rose, but thus he eased his thought,
“l'll now give sixpence where I gave a groat;
Where once I went to church I'll now go twice,
And am so clear too of all other vice ;'

The tempter saw his time, the work he plied ;
Stocks and subscriptions pour on every side,
Till all the demon makes his full descent
In one abundant shower of cent. per cent.
Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole,
Then dubs Director, and secures his soul.

Behold, Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit;
What late he called a blessing now was wit,
And God's good providence a lucky hit.
Things change their titles, as our manners turn;
His counting-house employed the Sunday morn:
Seldom at church ('twas such a busy life)
But duly sent his family and wife.
There (so the devil ordained) cne Christmas-tide
My good old lady catch'd a cold and died.

A nymph of quality admires our knight ;
He marries, bows at court, and grows polite ;


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In Britain's senate he a seat obtains,
And one more pensioner St. Stephen gains.
My lady falls to play ; so bad her chance,
He must repair it ; takes a bribe from France :
The house impeach him ; Coningsby harangues;
The court forsake him, and Sir Balaam hangs.





To smoke, or not to smoke, that is the question :-
Whether a mild cigar assists digestion ;
Or, whether it invites a kind of quaintness,
Which some would say was nothing but a faintness ?
To smoke—to drink-and then to go to bed ;
To find a pillow for an aching head ;
To snore-perchance to dream! and half your senses scare
With visionary demons or nightmare;
To wake, in perspiration nicely dished,
'Tis a consummation hardly to be wished ;
For who would bear the kicks, cuffs, and abuse
Of this base world, when he might cook his goose
Upon his toasting-fork ?' Or, who would care
For half the motley groups which at him stare,
Some morning early, stuck before the bench,
When soda-water would his fever quench,

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