PEDANTS SEEKING PATRONAGE. 239 Digit. Yes, sir. In this manuscript I have endeavored to elucidate the squaring of the circle. Sesq. But, sir, a square circle is a contradiction in terms. You can not make one. Digit. I perceive you are a novice in this sublime science. The object is to find a square which shall be equal to a given circle; which I have done by a rule drawn from the radii of the circle and the diagonal of the square. And by my rule the area of the square will equal the area of the circle. Sesq. Your terms are to me incomprehensible. Diagonal is derived from the Greek. Dia and gōnia, that is, "through the corner." But I don't see what it has to do with a circle; for, if I understand aright, a circle, like a sphere, has no corners. Digit. You appear to be very ignorant of the science of numbers. Your life must be very insipidly spent in poring over philosophy and the dead languages. You never tasted, as I have, the pleasure arising from the investigation of a difficult problem, or the discovery of a new rule in quadratic equations. Sesq. Poh! poh! (Crosses to L., and hits DIGIT on the leg with his cane.) Digit. (Crossing to R.) O, you villain! Sesq. (L.) I wish, sir, Digit. (R.) And so do I wish, sir, that that cane was raised to the fourth power, and laid over your head as many times as there are units in a thousand! 0! O! Sesq. (C.) Did my cane come in contact with the sphere of attraction around your shin? I must confess, sir, Enter TRILL, L. But here is Mr. Morrell, Sal' ve Dom'i-ne! Sir, your servant. Trill. (L.) Which of you, gentlemen, is Mr. Morrell? Sesq. (C.) O! neither, sir. I took you for that gentleman. Trill. No, sir; I am a teacher of music. Flute, harp, viol, violin, violoncello,* organ, or any thing of the kind; any instrument you can mention. I have just been displaying my powers at a concert, and come recommended to the patronage of Mr. Morrell. Sesq. For the same purpose are that gentleman and myself here. O! Digit. (R. Still rubbing his shin.) 0! O! Trill. Has the gentleman the gout? I have heard of its being cured by music. Shall I sing you a solo? Hem! hem! (Clears his throat, and begins to sing.) Faw *Pronounced ve-o-lon-chel'lo. Sound ph as f in sphere and symphony. Digit. Hold! If must have a solo, let it be sung so low that I can't hear it. I want none of your tunes. I'd make that philosopher sing, though, and dance, too, if he had n't made a vulgar fraction of my leg. Sesq. In vir-i-ta'te, that is, in truth, it happened for'te, that is, by chance. Trill. (Talking to himself.) If B be flat, me is in E. Digit. (To SESQ.) Ay, sir; this is only an integral part of your conduct ever since you came into this house. You have continued to multiply your insults in the abstract ratio of a geometrical progression, and at last have proceeded to violence. The dignity of Archimedes Digit never experienced such a reduction descending before, Trill. (To himself.) Twice fa sol la, and then comes me again. Digit. If Mr. Morrell does not admit me soon, I'll leave the house, while my head is on my shoulders. Trill. Gentlemen, you neither keep time nor chord. you can sing, we will try a trio before we go. But, if Sesq. Can you sing an ode of Horace or Anac ́re-on? I should like to hear one of them. Digit. I had rather hear you sing a demonstration of the forty-seventh proposition, first book. Trill. I never heard of those performers, sir; where do they belong? Sesq. They did belong to Italy and Greece. Trill. (Crosses to R.) Ah! Italy! There are our best mas ters, such as Morelli and Fuselli. Can you favor me with some of their compositions? Sesq. (L.) O, yes; if you have a taste that way, I can furnish you with them, and with Virgil, Sallust, Cicero, Cæsar, and Quintilian; and I have an old Greek Lexicon which I can spare. Trill. Ad lib'itum, my dear sir, they will make a handsome addition to my musical library. Digit. (C.) But, sir, what pretensions have you to the patron age of Mr. Morrell? I don't believe you can square the circle. Trill. Pretensions, sir! I have gained a victory over the great Tantamarrarra, the new opera-singer, who pretended to vie with me. 'Twas in the symphony of Handel's Oratorio of Saul, where, you know, every thing depends upon the tempo giusto, and where the primo should precede in smorgando, and the secondo, agitati. But he was on the third ledger line, I was an octave below, when, with a sudden appoggiatura, I rose to D in alt, and conquered him. THE POLITICAL BORE. Enter DRONE, R. 241 Drone. My master says how he will wait on you, gentlemen. Digit. What is your name, sir? Drone. Drone, at your service. Digit. No, no; you need not drone at my service. A very applicable name, however. Sesq. Drone? That is derived from the Greek Draon, that is, flying or moving swiftly. Trill. He seems to move in andante measure, that is, to the tune of Old Hundred. Drone. Very likely, gentlemen. Digit. Well, as I came first, I will enter first. Sesq. Right. You shall be the antecedent, I the subsequent, and Mr. Trill the consequent. Trill. Right. I was always a man of consequence. Fa, sol, la, Fa, sol, &c. (Exeunt, R., followed by DRONE, who mimics them.) ANON. then takes a Enter FEEBLE, L. He stops, C., feels his pulse, and shakes his head vial from his pocket, pours a few drops on a lump of sugar, and swallows it. As soon as he hears QUIDNUNC'S voice, he starts with disgust towards R. The whole of QUIDNUNC'S first speech is uttered off the stage. There should be a chair a little to the right of the center. he 'll be glad to see me. Quidnunc. (Without.) Hold your tongue, you foolish fellow! Brother Feeble! brother Feeble! Feeble. (R.) I was just going to bed. Bless my heart, what can this man want? I know his voice. I hope no new misfortune brings him at this hour. Enter QUIDNUNC, L. Quid. Brother Feeble, I give you joy! the nabob's demolished. Hurra! Feeb. Lack-a-day, Mr. Quidnunc! How can you serve me thus? Quid. Suraja Dowla is no more! stage to L., chen back again to R.) Hurra! (Crosses the Feeb. Poor man! he 's stark, staring mad. Quid. Our men diverted themselves with killing their bul locks and their camels, till they dislodged the enemy from the Botagon, and the counterscarp, and the bungalow Feeb. I'll hear the rest to-morrow morning. O! I'm ready to die! Quid. Odds-heart, man, be of good cheer! (Slapping FEEBLE on the back.) The new nabob, Jaffer Alley Cawn, has acceded to a treaty, and the English company got all their rights in the Phiemad and the Fushbulhoornons. Feeb. But, dear heart, Mr. Quidnunc, why am I to be disturbed for this? Quid. We had but two seapoys killed, three chokeys, four gaul-walls, and two zemindars. Hurra! Feeb. Would not to-morrow morning do as well for this? dows! Chandernagore is taken! Hurra! light up your win Feeb. Well, well! I'm glad of it. Good-night. (Going, R.) Quid. Here here's the "Gazette." paper.) (Produces news Feeb. O, I shall certainly faint! (Sits down.) Quid. Ay, ay, sit down, and I'll read it to you. Here it is: "On the 10th the action commenced. Suraja Dowla drew up his men on the right of the bungalow, about". (FEEBLE rises and moves away, R.) Nay, don't run away: I've more news to tell you. There's an account from Williamsburgh, in America. The superintendent of Indian affairs Feeb. Dear sir! dear sir! (Avoiding him.) Quid. He has settled matters with the Cherokees- (Following him about the stage.) Feeb. Enough, enough! (Moving away.) Quid. In the same manner he did before with the Catawbas. (Following him.) Feeb. Well, well! your servant. (Moving off.) (Following him.) Feeb. I wish you would let me be a quiet inhabitant of my own house! Quid. So that the white inhabitants will now be secured by the Cherokees and the Catawbas Feeb. You had better go home, and think of appearing before the commissioners. Quid. Go home! No, no! I'll go and talk the matter over at our coffee-house. (Going, L.) Feeb. Do so, do so! Quid. (Turning back.) I had a dispute about the balance of power. (Takes chair and sits, C.) Pray, now, can you tell Feeb. I know nothing of the matter. MONEY MAKES THE MARE GO. 243 Quid. Well, another time will do for that. (Rises.) I have a great deal to say about that. (Going — returns.) Right! I had like to have forgot. There's an erratum in the last "Gazette.” Feeb. With all my heart! Quid. Page 3, 1st col., 1st and 3d lines, for bombs read booms. Feeb. Read what you will! Well, now, Quid. Nay, but that alters the sense, you know. your servant. If I hear any more news, I'll come and tell you. Feeb. For heaven's sake, no more! Quid. I'll be with you before you 're out of your first sleep. Feeb. Good-night, good-night! (Hurries off, R.) Quid. (Screaming after him.) I forgot to tell you—the Emperor of Morocco is dead. So, now I have made him happy, I'll go and call up my friend Razor, and make him happy, too; and then I'll go and see if any body is up at the coffee-house, and make them all happy there, too. (Exit, L.) XX.-MONEY MAKES THE MARE GO. Enter DERBY, R., and SCRAPEWELL, L. Derby. Good-morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged to you if you would lend me your gray mare. Scrapewell. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you; but I'm under the necessity of going immediately to the mill with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very morning. Der. Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Jotham Sleek that the water was too low. My Scrape. You don't say so! That is bad, indeed; for, in that case, I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. wife would comb my head for me, if I should neglect it! Der. I can save you this journey, for I have plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants. Scrape. Ah! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal will never suit my wife. You can't conceive how whimsical she is. Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain she would like it; for you sold it to me yourself, and you assured me that it was the best you ever had. Scrape. Yes, yes, that 's true, indeed; I always have the best of every thing. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige a friend than I am; but I must tell you, the |