I hastened to stop him with Dalrymple's Memoirs, and then proceeded to give him various others, upon all which he made severe, splenetic, yet comical comments;—and we continued thus employed till he was summoned to accompany Mr. Thrale to town.
The next morning, Wednesday, I had some very serious talk with Mr. Seward,—and such as gave me no inclination for railery, though it was concerning his ennui on the contrary, I resolved, at that moment, never to rally him upon that subject again, for his account of himself filled me with compassion.
He told me that he had never been well for three hours in a day in his life, and that when he was thought only tired he was really so ill that he believed scarce another man would stay in company. I was quite shocked at this account, and told him, honestly, that I had done him so little justice as to attribute all his languors to affectation.
PROPOSED MATCH BETWEEN MR. SEWARD AND THE WEEPER-AT-WILL.
When Mrs. Thrale joined us, Mr. Seward told us he had just seen Dr. Jebb.—Sir Richard, I mean,—and that he had advised him to marry.
“No,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “that will do nothing for you; but if you should marry, I have a wife for you.”
“Who?” cried he, “the S. S.?”
“The S. S.?—no!—she's the last person for you,—her extreme softness, and tenderness, and weeping, would add languor to languor, and irritate all your disorders; 'twould be drink to a dropsical man.”
“No, no,—it would soothe me.”