Lat. Make way, make way. By your leave. Stand by. Victoria! "Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas."[65]
Y. Book. Well said, Jack. Let me see any of your sparks besides myself keep such an equipage. I don't question but in a little time I shall be a finer fop than the town has yet seen. All my lackeys shall be linguists as thou art. While thus I ride immortal steeds—how my horses stare at me! They see I am a very new sort of beau.
Lat. This is rare—the having this noise of music. But won't it be reckoned a disturbance?
Y. Book. No, no; it is a usual gallantry here. But the vocal is an elegance hardly known before me here—who am the founder of accomplished fools, of which I'll institute an order. All coxcombs of learning and parts shall after me be called Bookwits—a sect will soon be more numerous, and in more credit, than your Aristotelians, Platonists, and Academics.
Lat. Sir, 'twill be extraordinary, and you are really a wise person—you put your theory of philosophy into practice; 'tis not with you a dead letter.
Y. Book. Oh! sir, no. The design of learning is for the use of life; therefore I'll settle a family very suddenly, and show my literature in economy.
Lat. As how, pray?
Y. Book. I'll have four peripatetic footmen, two followers of Aristippus for valets de chambre, and an epicurean cook—with an hermetical chemist (who are good only at making fires) for my scullion; and then I think all is disposed. But, methinks this fair one takes state upon her. But I am none of your languishers; I am not known in town, and if I misbehave, 'tis but being sent back again to my small beer and three-halfpenny commons; and I, like many another beau, only blazed and vanished——
Lat. But you know I love music immoderately. How do you dispose your entertainment? Let 'em begin.
Y. Book. Well, give me but leave. The fiddles will certainly attract the ladies, I mean the nymphs who have grottos round this enchanted forest. In the first place, you intelligences that move this vehicle—how the fellows stare!