Lysand. I thank you for stopping me: for I am hoarse as well as stupid: I consider the foregoing only as the greater stars or constellations in the bibliographical hemisphere. Others were less observed from their supposed comparative insignificancy; although, if you had attended the auctions, you would have found in them many very useful, and even rare and splendid, productions. But we are all
'Tickled with the whistling of a name!'
Loren. Ay, and naturally enough too. If I look at my Stubbes's Anatomy of Abuses, which has received your abuse this evening, and fancy that the leaves have been turned over by the scientific hand of Pearson, Farmer, or Steevens, I experience, by association of ideas, a degree of happiness which I never could have enjoyed had I obtained the volume from an unknown collector's library.
Lis. Very true; and yet you have only Master Stubbes's work after all!
Loren. Even so. But this fictitious happiness, as you would call it, is, in effect, real happiness; inasmuch as it produces positive sensations of delight.
Lis. Well, there is no arguing with such a bibliomaniac as yourself, Lorenzo.
Belin. But allow, brother, that this degree of happiness, of which you boast, is not quite so exquisite as to justify the very high terms of purchase upon which it is often times procured.
Lysand. There is no such thing as the 'golden mediocrity' of Horace in book pursuits. Certain men set their hearts upon certain copies, and 'coûte qu'il coûte' they must secure them. Undoubtedly, I would give not a little for Parker's own copy of the Book of Common Prayer, and Shakspeare's own copy of both parts of his Henry the Fourth.
Alman. Well, Lisardo, we stand no chance of stemming the torrent against two such lusty and opiniated bibliomaniacs as my brother and Lysander: although I should speak with deference of, and acknowledge with grateful respect, the extraordinary exertions of the latter, this evening, to amuse and instruct us.
Lis. This evening?——say, this day:—this live-long day—and yesterday also! But have you quite done, dear Lysander?