Madam Pomeroy.—(Reading from a paper at table near door left):
What have we in the Flying Mercury?
A Romish Mass-house in Moorfields surpris'd,
The priest imprison'd and the flock dispers'd,
A flaming meteor falls at Middelburg.
The Young Pretender to St. Germains goes,
A true black tulip blooms in Amsterdam.
The Queen of Spain miscarrys of a Prince,
—Venetian Commonwealth—the Grand Signor.
But, what is this, scored thro', but underlined,
'The ship "Good Hope" for Europe clears to-night,
From Boston Harbour, at the turn of tide,
Half after midnight—Captain Effingham.'
Aye, doubtless, by that barque my pigeon pair
Will journey—Avis and young Gaspard Legh,
Gaspard, the Governor's darling only son,
Avis, the ward, why not the daughter, then?
Of old quack salving Doctor Sylvester
Sylvester the Empyrick Alchemist,
