Brisk. Incomparable, let me perish!—But then being an heroic poem, had not you better call him a charioteer? charioteer sounds great; besides, your ladyship's coachman having a red face, and you comparing him to the sun; and you know the sun is called Heaven's charioteer.
Lady Froth. Oh, infinitely better! I am extremely beholden to you for the hint; stay, we'll read over those half a score lines again. (Pulls out a paper.) Let me see here, you know what goes before,—the comparison, you know. (Reads.)
For as the sun shines every day.
So, of our coachman I may say—
Brisk. I'm afraid that simile won't do in wet weather; because you say the sun shines every day.
Lady Froth. No, for the sun it won't, but it will do for the coachman; for you know there's most occasion for a coach in wet weather.
Brisk. Right, right, that saves all.
Lady Froth. Then, I don't say the sun shines all the day, but that he peeps now and then; yet he does shine all the day too, you know, though we don't see him.
Brisk. Right, but the vulgar will never comprehend that.
Lady Froth. Well, you shall hear—Let me see. (Reads.)