LITMIR.BIZ

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Blot. Lend me your Bysshe, Mr Dash, I want a rhime for wind.

       Dash. Why there's blind, and kind, and behind, and find, and mind: it is of the easiest termination imaginable; I have had it four times in a page.

       Blot. None of those words will do.

       Dash. Why then you may use any that end in ond, or and, or end. I am never so exact: if the two last letters are alike, it will do very well. Read the verse.

       Blot. "Inconstant as the seas or as the wind."

       Dash. What would you express in the next line?

       Blot. Nay, that I don't know, for the sense is out already. I would say something about inconstancy.

       Dash. I can lend you a verse, and it will do very well too.

      "Inconstancy will never have an end."

      End rhimes very well with wind.

       Blot. It will do well enough for the middle of a poem.

       Dash. Ay, ay, anything will do well enough for the middle of a poem. If you can but get twenty good lines to place at the beginning for a taste, it will sell very well.

       Quib. So that, according to you, Mr Dash, a poet acts pretty much on the same principles with an oister-woman.

       Dash. Pox take your simile, it has set my chaps a watering: but come, let us leave off work for a while, and hear Mr Quibble's song.

       Quib. My pipes are pure and clear, and my stomach is as hollow as any trumpet in Europe.

       Dash. Come, the song.

SONG

      AIR. Ye Commons and Peers.

      How unhappy's the fate

      To live by one's pate,

      And be forced to write hackney for bread!

      An author's a joke

      To all manner of folk,

      Wherever he pops up his head, his head,

      Wherever he pops up his head.

      Tho' he mount on that hack,

      Old Pegasus' back,

      And of Helicon drink till he burst,

      Yet a curse of those streams,

      Poetical dreams,

      They never can quench one's thirst, &c.

      Ah! how should he fly

      On fancy so high,

      When his limbs are in durance and hold?

      Or how should he charm,

      With genius so warm,

      When his poor naked body's a cold, &c.

      SCENE IV. – BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE

       Book. Fie upon it, gentlemen! what, not at your pens? Do you consider, Mr Quibble, that it is a fortnight since your Letter to a Friend in the Country was published? Is it not high time for an Answer to come out? At this rate, before your Answer is printed, your Letter will be forgot. I love to keep a controversy up warm. I have had authors who have writ a pamphlet in the morning, answered it in the afternoon, and answered that again at night.

       Quib. Sir, I will be as expeditious as possible: but it is harder to write on this side the question, because it is the wrong side.

       Book. Not a jot. So far on the contrary, that I have known some authors choose it as the properest to shew their genius. But let me see what you have produced; "With all deference to what that very learned and most ingenious person, in his Letter to a Friend in the Country, hath advanced." Very well, sir; for, besides that, it may sell more of the Letter: all controversial writers should begin with complimenting their adversaries, as prize-fighters kiss before they engage. Let it be finished with all speed. Well, Mr Dash, have you done that murder yet?

       Dash. Yes, sir, the murder is done; I am only about a few moral reflexions to place before it.

       Book. Very well: then Jet me have the ghost finished by this day se'nnight.

       Dash. What sort of a ghost would you have this, sir? the last was a pale one.

       Book. Then let this be a bloody one. Mr Quibble, you may lay by that life which you are about; for I hear the person is recovered, and write me out proposals for delivering five sheets of Mr Bailey's English Dictionary every week, till the whole be finished. If you do not know the form, you may copy the proposals for printing Bayle's Dictionary in the same manner. The same words will do for both.

       Enter INDEX.

      So, Mr Index, what news with you?

       Index. I have brought my bill, sir.

       Book. What's here? For fitting the motto of Risum teneatis Amici to a dozen pamphlets, at sixpence per each, six shillings; for Omnia vincit Amor, et nos cedamus Amori, sixpence; for Difficile est Satyram non scribere, sixpence. Hum! hum! hum! – sum total for thirty-six Latin mottoes, eighteen shillings; ditto English, one shilling and ninepence; ditto Greek, four – four shillings. These Greek mottoes are excessively dear.

       Ind. If you have them cheaper at either of the universities, I will give you mine for nothing.

       Book. You shall have your money immediately; and pray remember, that I must have two Latin seditious mottoes and one Greek moral motto for pamphlets by to-morrow morning.

       Quib. I want two Latin sentences, sir – one for page the fourth in the praise of loyalty, and another for page the tenth in praise of liberty and property.

       Dash. The ghost would become a motto very well if you would bestow one on him.

       Book. Let me have them all.

       Ind. Sir, I shall provide them. Be pleased to look on that, sir, and print me five hundred proposals and as many receipts.

       Book. "Proposals for printing by subscription a New Translation of Cicero Of the Nature of the Gods, and his Tusculan Questions, by Jeremy Index, Esq." I am sorry you have undertaken this, for it prevents a design of mine.

       Ind. Indeed, sir, it does not; for you see all of the book that I ever intend to publish. It is only a handsome way of asking one's friends for a guinea.

       Book. Then you have not translated a word of it, perhaps.

       Ind. Not a single syllable.

       Book. Well, you shall have your proposals forthwith: but I desire you would be a little more reasonable in your bills for the future, or I shall deal with you no longer; for I have a certain fellow of a college, who offers to furnish me with second-hand mottoes out of the Spectator for twopence each.

       Ind. Sir, I only desire to live by my goods; and I hope you will be pleased to allow some difference between a neat fresh piece, piping hot out of the classicks, and old threadbare worn-out stuff that has past through every pedant's mouth and been as common at the universities as their whores.

      SCENE V. – BOOKWEIGHT, DASH, QUIBBLE, BLOTPAGE, SCARECROW

       Scare. Sir, I have brought you a libel against the ministry.

       Book. Sir, I shall not take anything against them; – for I have two in the press already. [Aside.

       Scare. Then, sir, I have an Apology in defence of them.

       Book. That I shall not meddle with neither; they don't sell so well.

       Scare. I have a translation of Virgil's Aeneid, with notes on it, if we can agree about the price.

       Book. Why, what price would you have?

       Scare. You shall read it first, otherwise how will you know the value?

       Book. No, no, sir,

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