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Updated: June 16, 2025
Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own sattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then swigged off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as he took the last gulph; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, in order to show his independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn present, in the following manner:
But the knowledge is only emptiness; the initiation is but misery; the initiated, a man shunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh," said Bullwig, clasping his hands, and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, "the curse of Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue them from genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the heaven-scaler, the fire-stealer!
I'd lay a wager that you make, with one thing or another plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and there your three thowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig that works for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you? Three thowsnd a year is no such bad thing, let alone the barnetcy: it must be a great comfort to have that bloody hand in your skitching.
"Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig; "it's the authoress of 'High Life, 'Almack's, and other fashionable novels." "Fiddlestick's end!" says Doctor Larner; "don't be blushing and pretinding to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It's you yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the very beginning."
Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interrupted them, and said, "I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush is no other than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your last glass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an ornament of my kitchen!" "Gad!" says Doublejowl, "let's have him up." "Hear, hear!" says Bagwig.
"What, a baronet, like Sir John?" "The divle a bit else." "And pray what for?" "What faw?" says Bullwig. "Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? Ask Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat Bwitish nation, what faw?
"Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and talk to a footman, sure? Is it gintale?" "To say the least of it," says Bullwig, "the pwactice is iwwegular, and indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way pwofitable." But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and everybody excep them was for having up poor me.
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