The phantom pleasure flies,—and in its place
Comes deep remorse and torturing disgrace,
Corroding care, and self-accusing shame,
A ruin'd fortune, and a blighted fame.—E.
MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE II.
Wearied, languid, and spiritless from the dissipations of the night, with his sword broken in a riotous frolic, the modish Viscount comes home at noon, and finds his lady just arisen, and seated en déshabillé at her matin meal. From the melancholy cast of his countenance, and both hands being in his pockets, we may infer that he has been unsuccessful at the gaming-table. A cap and riband, which hang out of his coat pocket, lead us to suppose that part of his night has been passed in the company of a female; and from the attention a dog pays to the cap, we are led to suspect that he may have originally belonged to the lady who is its proprietor.
The Viscountess[5] has been contemplating her face in a pocket-mirror, and is scarcely recovered from the fatigue of a rout, which by the cards, instruments, and music book on the floor, we conclude to have been the preceding night's amusement.[6]
An ungartered servant, who is yawning in the background, pays little attention to his master or mistress, and is totally regardless of a chair, which is in great danger from the blaze of an expiring candle; this, with those left burning in the sockets since the conclusion of their nocturnal revelry, must give a pleasing perfume to the breakfast-room.