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Updated: May 25, 2025
He takes up his abode in a crypt of Saint Faith's and leads an incomprehensible life. As we return we shall pass the cathedral, and can see whether he is astir." "Readily," replied Etherege. "Do you desire to tarry here longer, or shall we proceed before you, while you indulge your tender meditations undisturbed?" "Leave me," replied Rochester; "I shall be glad to be alone for a few moments."
"I am no juggler!" replied Lilly, angrily; "and to prove I am not, I will tell you who you are who thus insult me, though you have not announced yourself, and are desirous of preserving your incognito. You are the Earl of Rochester, and your companion is Sir George Etherege."
Directly, when she had brought her hat, and spoken with her mother. Mrs. Etherege and Mrs. Gartney were sitting together in the guest chamber, above. At noon, after an early dinner, Mrs. Etherege was to leave. Mr. Armstrong stood upon the doorstone below, looking outward, waiting. If he had been inside the room, he would not have heard.
But the worst English writings of the seventeenth century are decent, compared with much that has been bequeathed to us by Greece and Rome. Plato, we have little doubt, was a much better man than Sir George Etherege. But Plato has written things at which Sir George Etherege would have shuddered.
Gartney come back from Sedgely," said Aunt Etherege, looking from her window, between the blinds. "Whom on earth has he picked up to bring with him?" A thin, angular figure of a woman, destitute of crinoline, wearing big boots, and a bonnet that ignored the fashion, and carrying in her hand a black enameled leather bag, was alighting as she spoke, at the gate.
"I suppose you know that Poynings and Etherege don't come back, Grey?" "Everybody knew that last half:" and so he walked on. "Grey, Grey!" halloed King, "don't go into the dining-room; Mallett is there alone, and told us not to disturb him. By Jove, the fellow is going in: there will be a greater row this half between Grey and Mallett than ever."
"Apropos of melancholy subjects," said Etherege, "your masque of the Dance of Death has caused great consternation at court. Mistress Stewart declares she cannot get that strange fellow who performed such fantastic tricks in the skeleton-dance out of her head." "You mean Chowles," replied the earl. "He is a singular being, certainly once a coffin-maker, and now, I believe, a burier of the dead.
"'Fore heaven! we are discovered," cried the earl; "but whether by art, magic, or from previous acquaintance with our features, I pretend not to determine." "In either case, my lord, for it is useless, since you have avowed yourself, to address you longer as Wyvil," replied Etherege, "you owe Mr. Lilly an apology for the insult you have offered him.
One winter evening, as Vivian, with some of his particular cronies, were standing round the school-room fire, they began, as all schoolboys do when it grows rather dark and they grow rather sentimental, to talk of HOME. "Twelve weeks more," said Augustus Etherege; "twelve weeks more, and we are free! The glorious day should be celebrated." "A feast, a feast!" exclaimed Poynings.
"Old Bowley declares he will send me to the Tower if I do," replied Rochester; "and though his threats would scarcely deter me from acting as I think proper, I have no inclination for marriage at present. What a pity, Etherege, that one cannot in these affairs have the money oneself, and give the wife to one's friend."
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