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　　SCENE.—MR. H——'S Apartment.

　　MR. H. (solus) Was ever any thing so mortifying? to be refused by old Mother Damnable!—with such parts and address,—and the little squeamish devils, to dislike me for a name, a sound.—O my cursed name! that it was something I could be revenged on! if it were alive, that I might tread upon it, or crush it, or pummel it, or kick it, or spit it out—for it sticks in my throat and will choak me.

　　My plaguy ancestors! if they had left me but a Van or a Mac, or an Irish O', it had been something to qualify it.—Mynheer Van Hogsflesh—or Sawney Mac Hogsflesh,—or Sir Phelim O'Hogsflesh,—but downright blunt———. If it had been any other name in the world, I could have borne it. If it had been the name of a beast, as Bull, Fox, Kid, Lamb, Wolf, Lion; or of a bird, as Sparrow, Hawk, Buzzard, Daw, Finch, Nightingale; or of a fish, as Sprat, Herring, Salmon; or the name of a thing, as Ginger, Hay, Wood; or of a colour, as Black, Grey, White, Green; or of a sound, as Bray; or the name of a month, as March, May; or of a place, as Barnet, Baldock, Hitchin; or the name of a coin, as Farthing, Penny, Twopenny; or of a profession, as Butcher, Baker, Carpenter, Piper, Fisher, Fletcher, Fowler, Glover; or a Jew's name, as Solomons, Isaacs, Jacobs; or a personal name, as Foot, Leg, Crookshanks, Heaviside, Sidebottom, Longbottom, Ramsbottom, Winterbottom; or a long name, as Blanchenhagen, or Blanchenhausen; or a short name, as Crib, Crisp, Crips, Tag, Trot, Tub, Phips, Padge, Papps, or Prig, or Wig, or Pip, or Trip; Trip had been something, but Ho———.

　　(Walks about in great agitation,—recovering his calmness a little, sits down.)

　　Farewell the most distant thoughts of marriage; the finger-circling ring, the purity-figuring glove, the envy-pining bride-maids, 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 to-night; you will see all my things got ready.

　　LANDLORD Hope your Honor does not intend to quit the Blue Boar,—sorry any thing has happened.

　　MR. H.

　　He has heard it all.

　　LANDLORD Your Honour 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 every body has such gift of fine phrases as your Honour, 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.

　　O, I wish I were anonymous.

　　[Exeunt several ways.] The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4