Farewell the most distant thoughts of marriage; the finger-circling ring, the purity figuring glove, the envy-pining bridemaids, the wishing parson, and the simpering clerk.  Farewell the ambiguous blush-raising joke, the titter-provoking pun, the morning-stirring drum.—­No son of mine shall exist, to bear my ill-fated name.  No nurse come chuckling, to tell me it is a boy.  No midwife, leering at me from under the lids of professional gravity.  I dreamed of caudle.—­(Sings in a melancholy tone.) Lullaby, Lullaby,—­hush-a-by-baby—­how like its papa it is!—­(Makes motions as if he was nursing.) And then, when grown up, “Is this your son, Sir?” “Yes, Sir, a poor copy of me, a sad young dog,—­just what his father was at his age,—­I have four more at home.”  Oh! oh! oh!

Enter LANDLORD.

Mr. H. Landlord, I must pack up tonight; you will see all my things got ready.

Landlord. Hope your Honor does not intend to quit the Blue Boar,—­sorry anything has happened.

Mr. H. He has heard it all.

Landlord. Your Honor has had some mortification to be sure, as a man may say; you have brought your pigs to a fine market.

Mr. H. Pigs!

Landlord. What then? take old Pry’s advice, and never mind it.  Don’t scorch your crackling for ’em, Sir.

Mr. H. Scorch my crackling! a queer phrase; but I suppose he don’t mean to affront me.

Landlord. What is done can’t be undone; you can’t make a silken purse out of a sow’s ear.

Mr. H. As you say, Landlord, thinking of a thing does but augment it.

Landlord. Does but hogment it, indeed, Sir.

Mr. H. Hogment it! damn it, I said augment it.

Landlord. Lord, Sir, ’tis not everybody has such gift of fine phrases as your Honor, that can lard his discourse—­

Mr. H. Lard!

Landlord. Suppose they do smoke you—­

Mr. H. Smoke me!

Landlord. One of my phrases; never mind my words, Sir, my meaning is good.  We all mean the same thing, only you express yourself one way, and I another, that’s all.  The meaning’s the same; it is all pork.

Mr. H. That’s another of your phrases, I presume.

[Bell rings, and the Landlord called for.

Landlord. Anon, anon.

Mr. H. Oh, I wish I were anonymous.

[Exeunt several ways.

SCENE.—­Melesinda’s Apartment.

MELESINDA and Maid.

Maid. Lord, Madam! before I’d take on as you do about a foolish—­what signifies a name?  Hogs—­Hogs—­what is it—­is just as good as any other, for what I see.

Melesinda. Ignorant creature! yet she is perhaps blest in the absence of those ideas, which, while they add a zest to the few pleasures which fall to the lot of superior natures to enjoy, doubly edge the——­