Text 22


Come out, come out! We are putrefied! We are corrupted! Our lungs are destroyed with the Flogiston. This will spread a plague all through the island. [exits with GIMBLET in pursuit] 

[mass confusion as every one waves hankies at the stench]


[pulling nose] I'm hanged if I don't get up tomorrow morning at 4 o'clock and work Sir Joshua. Before ten years are up, I will teach his poor milk sop devils, an ignorant pack of wretches, to illuminate the Manuscript.


Which would be an excellent thesis indeed.


You could have all the writing engraved instead of printed, and at every other leaf a high finished print all in three Volumes folio, and sell them at a hundred dollars a piece. They would print off 2000!


Then whoever will not buy one will be an ignorant fool and will not deserve to live.


[turns to Gittipin] Don't you think I have something of the Goat's face?


Very like a Goat's face.


I think your face is like that noble beast the Tyger. 

O why was I born with a different face 
Why was I not born like the rest of my race 
When I look each one starts! When I speak I offend 
Then I'm silent & passive & lose every Friend 

Then my verse I dishonour. My pictures despise 
My person degrade & my temper chastise 
And my pen is my terror. The pencil my shame 
All my Talents I bury, and dead is my Fame 

I am either too low or too highly priz'd 
When Elate I am Envy'd, When Meek I'm despis'd.