my heart pants to bestow. I would not live an hour without doing it, if I had but their busts and a garland,
LORD WORRYMORE.
I'll find the busts this very evening, my love, if you'll find the laurels.
LADY WORRYMORE.
Thank you, my Lord! How amiable it is in you to be so ready in honouring the merit of others! Let it then be so arranged, and this evening in the garden, before sunset, the tribute shall be paid; to which solemnity (curtseying around her) I bid ye all.
LORD WORRYMORE.
Bravo, my dear wife! Done like a most courteous and graceful lady. He! he! he! I thought it would please you. Did you mark the last line of it, ending thus—"Ball-room, bank, and bower?" It cost the poet some trouble, no doubt, to find such alliteration as that.
BLOUNT.
Unless it came by the Muse's inspiration, which is a convenient help for any poet, and saves the frail bark of his fancy a plaguy course of tacking. But you say nothing of the beginning of the piece, which shows such richness of expression:
