FIAM. Shall I read to you, mother? VIT. wen sdiom, pav No, my child, hoe ka FIAM. Or sing? or dance? or bring your favourite picture Of Dido playing with the cheeks of Cupid, As if she said unwittingly, "You rogue!" bl VIT. Oh no, no, no! talk to me of things common; Of dress, for instance, flounces, coifs, and fashions, And what new creature we're to look like next, When some great lady quarrels with her shoulder-blade, Or has a private pique against her waist. FIAM. Oh, if no waist, like a tied sack of charcoal, Or like the letter B run up to seed; And if a waist, why then we must be wasps m Cut right in two, or hour-glasses that shew The time by letting their wise heads run empty. Or turn to real walking bells, with feet VIT. Why you dash on this morning like Sebastian, FIAM. And you must think of gondolas again, And sigh, dear mother. Well, if you will think of 'em, VIT. What, my love? His terrible pinching fingers. VIT. Why, you sweet trifler! this is the way, is it, You treat a gentleman that saves your life. FIAM. A gentleman that saves one's life! Well, really now, That is a proper philosophic way Of putting it, before we've got the right Of speaking highlier of him for himself. You mean, I know, you dare not trust yourself Just now, upon that watery subject, mother;—jusika To speak of such good chances giv'n the gentlemen. Think one such plunge renders a man invulnerable Present one's foot with an elaborate stretch, You saved this foot of mine; will't please ye accept it?" FIAM. Nay, mother, now You make me blush to think that I could give My brother, to be sure, is fond of truth, Enter CANDIAN, followed by MOLINO, CONTARINI, and MalIPIERO. CAND. And what did uncle say? Ladies, allow me The Signor Malipiero, a sad gentleman, Who thinks it necessary to apologize For not being a king-fisher.We found him Eyeing his would-be element at the door. MAL. Nay, Sir, I yield to none in hearty chearfulness; And as I hope and think the best of others, 'Tis thought, I trust, of me: and yet, dear ladies, A man may reasonably regret, that chance Should on the turn, as 'twere, of one swift instant, VIT. My daughter loves a good intention, Sir, Too well to make it answerable to fortune. MAL. (to FIAM.) Then, Madam, I may hope that this omission Will not be held a punishable sin, When heavenly eyes look down upon one's homage. FIAM. If you mean my eyes, Signor Malipiero, Which heaven forbid should look down on tall gentlemen, I think no evil of our other friends here, And why should I of you? CAND. Come, Malipiero, Settle these grave state questions by and bye, I saw them from the window, coming in. Enter SERVANT. Signor Sebastian, and his noble friend, Sir. Enter SEBASTIAN and WALTER HERBERT. SEB. Dear mother, uncle, sister sweet, and gentlemen, I need not introduce my noble friend And your's-the Signor Walter Herbert, Englishman. I've told you of so often. Heaven be praised You're in the midst of it, and have been so. CAND. Our silence, Sir, must shew you what we feel. This ready swiftness to oblige your friends, Is, I perceive, a habit with you. HERB. If, Sir, CAND. You're no friend then, Sir, HERB. Oh yes, Sir, CAND. You see, Sir, we have scarcely yet recovered In our own spite. It must give way to something SEB. The right proposition. HERB. I feel the hand of home, Sir, in this grasp. HERB. And friends have other privileges in England. FIAM. (aside). I told you how 'twould be, Mother. VIT. And your heart; (aside) She blushes, and I fear I do so too: I have most cause. SEB. (to FIAM.) Well, Sister gravity, and have you no praises FIAM. Yes, just as many as friends Would wish to have just now;—at least I think so. HERB. Your brother could not be more gladly answered, 1 Were to outdo the deeds of Hercules, And make old Atlas turn to kiss his burden, You measure my desert by your great joy. MAL. Is not this contradicting your own sentiment, The pride of giving you what you give others? HERB. Well, Sir, to shew you I can claim my due, This lady to speak for me, and to own That what would have been done by any gentleman Should not be charged so brightly on my scutcheon. FIAM. Nay, Sir, I'll own still more, and plainly tell you, Into the sea for my ingratitude, That I insinuated as much just now You, Signor Contarini, or you, Sir, For not being quicker than our other friend, And catching me no agues!-Pardon me, But I should have asked, Sir, whether you suffered The least- no clinging chilliness, I trust, Or other HERB. Not the least, Madam; no more Than if I had put my hand into a brook, To bring away a lily. I had heard Of your own welfare: and if I had not, I see. You, Madam, (to VIT.) scarcely seem so well, VIT. Oh quite, Sir, thank you, I feel the ebbing of these waters yet At intervals. Quite well, child,-quite indeed. Again. CAND. Indeed! I fear I've scarcely given our friend A proper English welcome. Well, I hope You'll spend the day with us, and teach us how To interchange each other's cordial customs. My nephew tells me you must leave us now To visit the ambassador. Be it so; But come back quickly-will you? that's well looked: SEB. In the evening we shall have a masquerade, To let the whole tide of congratulation Come in at once. A dance, a little music, And after all, a look into the still And smiling ferment of our starry hour, Whose ear is kissed with waters gently spooned, Of Venice to the core. Orders received by the Newsmen, by the Booksellers, and by the Publisher, Printed by C. H. REYNELL, No. 45, Broad-street, Golden-square, London. THE INDICATOR There he arriving round about doth flie, No. XXII.-WEDNESDAY, MARCH 8th, 1820. 3 HATS, NEW AND ANCIENT. We know not what will be thought of our taste in so important a matter, but we must confess we are not fond of a new hat. There is a certain insolence about it: it seems to value itself upon it's finished appearance, and to presume upon our liking before we are acquainted with it. In the first place, it comes home more like a marmot or some other living creature, than a manufacture. It is boxed up, and wrapt in silver paper, and brought delicately. It is as sleek as a lap-dog. Then we are to take it out as nicely, and people are to wonder how we shall look in it. Maria twitches one this way, and Sophia that, and Caroline that, and Catharine t'other. We have the difficult task, all the while, of looking easy, till. the approving votes are pronounced: our only resource (which is also difficult) is to say good things to all four; or to clap the hat upon each of their heads, and see what pretty milk-women they make. At last the approving votes are pronounced; and (provided it is fine) we may go forth. But how uneasy the sensation about the head! How unlike the old hat, to which we had become used, and which must now make way for this fop of a stranger! We might do what we liked with the former. Dust, rain, a gale of wind, a fall, a squeeze,—nothing affected it. It was a true friend, a friend for all weathers. It's appearance only was against it: in every thing else it was the better for wear. But if the roads or the streets are too dry, the new hat is afraid of getting dusty: if there is wind, and it is not tight, it may be blown off into the dirt: we may have to scramble after it through dust or mud; just reaching it with our fingers, only to see it blown away again. And if rain comes on! Oh ye gallant apprentices, who have issued forth on a Sunday morning, with Jane or Susan, careless either of storms at night-fall, or toils and scoldings next day! Ye, who have received your new hat and boots but an hour before ye set out; and then issue forth triumphantly, the charmer by your side! She, with arm in yours, and handkerchief in hand, blushing, 2nd Edition. |