ley, Buckingham, Arlington-no, there's an L wanting, and here he comes, I do declare. How do, Lauderdale, how do, Lauderdale ?—there— that makes up the C, A, B, A, L.” Jocelyn availed himself of a momentary cessation to attempt an escape, by declaring that he saw his friend the Duke of Monmouth beckoning to him, but she only held him faster when she detected his design, and having recovered her breath immediately recommenced.—“ Oh he only wants to show you his new George; very handsome, a cardonyx set round with rose-diamonds; a George engraved on one side of the onyx, and the other enameled. La! I do declare there's the King openly kissing Mrs. Stewart in the window, and the Queen in the room. 'Pon my life it's too bad!-What a horrid noise the music makes; I can't hear a word that's said. You haven't seen my new rooms, one hung with Moreclack tapistry, and the other with pintado; all Indian figures you know, vastly pretty; and an arras carpet of gold, silver, and rich flowers, with the arms in the centre. There goes that simple Damætes,* Lord Chandois; you'll see him presently accompanying the dancers by humming a psalm to himself. I remember when I last saw you, I had just lost my poor sister Fanny. Ah! I shall never forget her. Heigho!-He, he! do for Heaven's sake look at the old Countess Culpepper, she has just laughed out one of her plumpers,† and see how she turns away her hollow cheek from every one that speaks to her. Monstrous droll, isn't it? How do Mrs. Middleton? How is the darling little spaniel with the crimson garland and silver bells? I saw you yesterday in your yellow bird's-eye hood, your loo-mask, and your scarf with the broad Flanders lace.-La! what mighty pretty calf-buckles!-So we are to have a fast-day for the plague to-morrow.-And what charming pearl-pears in your ears! Is this Calembue * A weak character in Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. + The light balls used to fill up the cavities of the cheeks. A scented wood from the Indies. fan perfumed with jessamine or narcissus?She is one of the King's beauties.-How do, Sir Evremond? How do, De Grammont? Always together, Pyramus and Thisbe. I have seen the fine coach you presented to the King. La, Mr. Compton, what a hurry you are in. Have you heard that the Duchess of York is in love with Harry Sidney, her master of the horse? Did you ever hear the echo at Somerset House? Have you read the new translation of Ovid's Matamorphoses? Which do you like best as a preacher, old Dr. Fell-how do, Killigrew? how do, Sir George Etherege?-or young Dr. Stillingfleet? Do you like these bright yellow locks for dark people? No more do I. That's Monsieur Comminges, the French Ambassador. How do, Sir Charles Sedley? Here comes Sir Harry Herbert, the Master of the Revels, accompanied by Mr. Waller. Only think of their making him so tipsy, notwithstanding his being called the water-drinking poet; and his getting such a dreadful fall down the river-stairs at Somerset House. You see he is quite lame still." Lady Most fortunately for Jocelyn, who was upon the point of summoning the Duke of Monmouth to the rescue, the master of the revels and the poet came up for the express purpose of effecting his deliverance; not indeed out of any kindness to him, with whom they were personally unacquainted, but in virtue of a commission, which specially charged them to transfer the cherryclapper, as Lady Babington was sometimes disrespectfully termed, to another victim. Castlemaine, vexed at the King's continued and undisguised dalliance with Mrs. (or rather, as we should now designate a maid of honour, with Miss) Stewart, a dalliance which was even exceeding the customary licence of that latitudinarian court, had despatched these emissaries to inform the sempiternal chatterer, that Miss Stewart was particularly anxious to see her, as she had procured for her some real Hungary water, with the Queen's head labelled upon the bottles. She well knew that her Ladyship, who was no respecter of persons or places, would soon invade the sanctity of the bower, which all the rest of the Court had so kindly abandoned to the amorous Monarch and the maid of honour; and she was equally confident that the King would fly in dismay at the very first appearance of the approaching calamity. Every thing answered to her wishes; Lady Babington had no sooner received the message than she exclaimed, “O, the dear creature! then I will beg her to accept in return my pretty little dear patch-box of mazarine fillagree, and a glue-pot to match. Good bye, Mr. Compton, I must really-that's the Cardinal Howard, of Norfolk, the Queen's almoner; and here comes the Duchess of Newcastle, with her hair about her ears, and fifty black patches on her face. La! what a pretty scarlet sword-knot! -good bye, good bye! I really cannot listen to you a moment longer.-La! there is old Sir. Henry de Vie, with his ragged beard: I dare say he is going to play cribbage with Lord |