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much honour thrust upon me, to which I have no pretensions, is——

LORD WORRYMORE (aside to Clermont).

Come this way, and receive a private word in your ear.

LADY SHREWDLY {aside to Lord Worrymore).

Let me speak to him, my Lord, and do you enjoy your secret triumph. (Draws Clermont away to a corner where she continues speaking to him in dumb show.)

LADY WORRYMORE.

Was such beautiful poetry, with such a modest poet, ever yet combined?

SIR JOHN CROFTON.

He blushed deeply, indeed: and, methinks, (fixing his eyes on Miss Frankland) he has a fair friend here who sympathises with his modesty, if one may judge from the colour of her cheeks. Ah! when shall I receive such proofs of sympathy?

MISS FRANKLAND.

When you blush at all, Sir John. You can scarcely expect from your friends this token of sympathy till you give them an opportunity.

BLOUNT.

Yes, our poet blushed a little, I believe, as I