LYSAND. And not more wonderful than its reputation justifies. Well
might Pope be enamoured of such a noble friend--and well might even
Dr. Mead bow to the superior splendour of such a book-competitor!
While the higher order of bibliomaniacs, reposing upon satin sofas,
were quaffing burgundy out of Harley's curiously cut goblets, and
listening to the captivating tale of Mead or Folkes, respecting a
VELLUM _Editio Princeps_--the lower order, with Bagford at their head,
were boisterously regaling themselves below, drinking ale round an
oaken table, and toasting their patron, till the eye could no longer
discover the glass, nor the tongue utter his name. Aloft, in mid air,
sat the soothed spirits of Smith and North; pointing, with their thin,
transparent fingers, to the apotheosis of CAXTON and ALDUS! Suddenly,
a crowd of pipy fragrance involves the room: these aerial forms cease
to be visible; and broken sounds, like the retiring tide beneath Dover
cliff, die away into utter silence. Sleep succeeds: but short is the
slumber of enthusiastic bibliomaniacs! The watchman rouses them from
repose: and the annunciation of the hour of "two o'clock, and a
moonlight morning," reminds them of their cotton night-caps and flock
mattrasses. They start up, and sally forwards; chaunting, midst the
deserted streets, and with eyes turned sapiently towards the moon,
"Long life to the King of Book-Collectors, HARLEY, EARL OF OXFORD!"

LOREN. A truce, Lysander! I entreat a truce!

LYSAND. To what?

LOREN. To this discourse. You must be exhausted.

PHIL. Indeed I agree with Lorenzo: for Lysander has surpassed, in
prolixity, the reputation of any orator within St. Stephen's chapel.
It only remains to eclipse, in a similar manner, the speeches which
were delivered at Hardy's trial--and then he may be called the
_Nonpareil_ of orators!

LYSAND. If you banter me, I am dumb. Nor did I know that there was any
thing of eloquence in my chit-chat. If Lisardo had had my experience,
we might _then_ have witnessed some glittering exhibitions of
imagination in the book-way!

LIS. My most excellent friend, I will strive to obtain this
experience, since you are pleased to compliment me upon what I was not
conscious of possessing--But, in truth, Lysander, our obligations to
you are infinite.

LYSAND. No more; unless you are weary of this discourse--

PHIL. LIS. Weary!?

LOREN. Let me here exercise my undeniable authority. A _sandwich_,
like the