He stood at the end of the table at which Richard’s inamorata was seated; and, as he recited the following poem, he indicated by look and gesture that the dark-haired girl had been its inspiration—by-play that amused his hearers, but filled Richard with a jealousy that was as pronounced as it was unreasonable.
“I call this little effort to amuse you,” said the poet, “Prince Spaghetti’s Vengeance.”
Then he recited, with a good deal of elocutionary cleverness, the following lines:—
“Not where garish lights are gleaming,
Not in brilliant banquet-hall,
Not where waiters, silent, solemn,
Make the gaudy grandeur pall;
Not where wine is so expensive
That your very thirst seems crime,
And to ‘wet your whistle’ often