Melincourt by Thomas Love Peacock

Author:Thomas Love Peacock [Peacock, Thomas Love]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781411452770
Publisher: Barnes & Noble
Published: 2017-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

Lord Anophel Achthar.—One of us must perish, Grovelgrub, 'pon honour. Death or revenge! We're blown, Grovelgrub. He took off our masks; and though he can't speak, he can write, no doubt, and read too, as I shall try with a challenge.

The Rev. Mr Grovelgrub.—Can't speak, my Lord, is by no means clear. Won't speak, perhaps: none are so dumb as those who won't speak. Don't you think, my Lord, there was a sort of melancholy about him—a kind of sullenness. Crossed in love, I suspect. People crossed in love, Saint Chrysostom says, lose their voice.

Lord Anophel Achthar.—Then I wish you were crossed in love, Grovelgrub, with all my heart.

The Rev. Mr Grovelgrub.—Nay, my Lord, what so sweet in calamity as the voice of the spiritual comforter? All shall be well yet, my Lord. I have an infallible project hatching here: Miss Melincourt shall be ensconced in Alga Castle, and then the day is our own.

Lord Anophel Achthar.—Grovelgrub, you know the old receipt for stewing a carp: "First, catch your carp."

The Rev. Mr Grovelgrub.—Your Lordship is pleased to be facetious: but if the carp be not caught, let me be devilled like a biscuit after the second bottle, or a turkey's leg at a twelfth night supper. The carp shall be caught.

Lord Anophel Achthar.—Well, Grovelgrub, only take notice that I'll not come again within ten miles of dummy.

The Rev. Mr Grovelgrub.—You may rely upon it my Lord, I shall always know my distance from the Honourable Baronet. But my plot is a good plot, and cannot fail of success.

Lord Anophel Achthar.—You are a very skilful contriver, to be sure: this is your contrivance, our perch on the top of this rock. Now contrive, if you can, some way of getting to the bottom of it.

The Rev. Mr Grovelgrub.—My Lord, there is a passage in Æschylus very applicable to our situation, where the chorus wishes to be in precisely such a place.

Lord Anophel Achthar.—Then I wish the chorus were here instead of us, Grovelgrub, with all my soul.

The Rev. Mr Grovelgrub.—It is a very fine passage, my Lord, and worth your attention: the rock is described as

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