He wished it might have any, he said, and soon after turned again to my father.
I protest, since the approbation of the Streathamites, I have met with none so flattering to me as this of Mr. Sheridan, in so very unexpected.
About this time Mrs. Cholmondeley was making much sport by wishing for an acrostic on her name. She said she had several times begged for one in vain, and began to entertain thoughts of writing one herself.
“For,” said she, “I am very famous for my rhymes, though I never made a line of poetry in my life.”
“An acrostic on your name,” said Mr. Sheridan, “would be a very formidable task; it must be so long that I think it should be divided into cantos.”
“Miss Burney,” cried Sir Joshua, who was now reseated, “Are not you a writer of verses?”
F.B.-No, sir.
Mrs C.-O don't believe her. I have made a resolution not to believe anything she says.
Mr. S.-I think a lady should not write verses till she is past receiving them.
Mrs. C.-(rising and stalking majestically towards him).-Mr. Sheridan, pray, sir, what may you mean by this insinuation; did I not say I writ verses?