What is the fool about?—(Aloud.) Some striking flowers of oratory, my Lord: one can see it by the fire of your eyes and the vehemence of your action. I am fortunate in witnessing the grace of your delivery: it is well for me to have a lesson.
LORD WORRYMORE.
You shall judge, my friend! (Lifting the manuscript from the table, and putting himself in a dignified attitude as he reads.) "That grain which, by the hands of our own ploughmen, whistling in concert with the early lark, hath been deposited in the maternal bosom of our soil; that grain which hath waved in the gentle breezes of summer and of autumn, and fructified under the salubrious temperature of our native climate——" (looking to him for applause.)
BLOUNT.
Very fine indeed! Such grain as that is too good for making quartern loaves of,—to be munched up by every dirty urchin that bawls about the streets.
