How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere
treasure?
Byron
No more, sir, I thank you.
Who lectures next spring?
_Both_. Dick Dunder.
_Ink_. That is, if he lives.
_Miss Lil_. And why not?
_Ink_. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.
Lady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?
_Lady Bluem_. With pleasure.
_Ink_.
How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere treasure?
Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings,[623]
And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and kings?
_Lady Bluem_. He has just got a place. [624]
_Ink_. As a footman?
_Lady Bluem_. For shame!
Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name. 51
_Ink_. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his master;
For the poet of pedlers 'twere, sure, no disaster
To wear a new livery; the more, as 'tis not
The first time he has turned both his creed and his coat.
_Lady Bluem_. For shame! I repeat. If Sir George could but hear--
_Lady Blueb_. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all know, my dear,
'Tis his way.
_Both_. Dick Dunder.
_Ink_. That is, if he lives.
_Miss Lil_. And why not?
_Ink_. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.
Lady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?
_Lady Bluem_. With pleasure.
_Ink_.
How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere treasure?
Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings,[623]
And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and kings?
_Lady Bluem_. He has just got a place. [624]
_Ink_. As a footman?
_Lady Bluem_. For shame!
Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name. 51
_Ink_. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his master;
For the poet of pedlers 'twere, sure, no disaster
To wear a new livery; the more, as 'tis not
The first time he has turned both his creed and his coat.
_Lady Bluem_. For shame! I repeat. If Sir George could but hear--
_Lady Blueb_. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all know, my dear,
'Tis his way.
