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!