XCVI. I've also seen some female friends ('t is odd, XCVII. Whether Don Juan and chaste Adeline At present I am glad of a pretence XCVIII. Whether they rode, or walked, or studied Spanish, To read Don Quixote in the original, A pleasure before which all others vanish; Whether their talk was of the kind call'd « small,» Or serious, are the topics I must banish To the next canto; where perhaps I shall Say something to the purpose, and display Considerable talent in my way. XCIX. Above all, I beg all men to forbear It is not clear that Adeline and Juan C. But great things spring from little :-Would you think, As e'er brought man and woman to the brink You'll never guess, I'll bet you millions, milliards- CI. 'T is strange, but true; for truth is always strange, Stranger than fiction: if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange; CII. What antres vast and desarts idle » then Of those who hold the kingdoms in controul! Were things but only call'd by their right name, Cæsar himself would be ashamed of fame. END OF CANTO XIV. NOTES TO CANTO XIV. Note 1, page 184, stanza xxxIII. And never craned, etc. Craning. To crane» is, or was, an expression used to denote a gentleman's stretching out his neck over a hedge, «to look before he leaped:" :-a pause in his « vaulting ambition,» which in the field doth occasion some delay and execration in those who may be immediately behind the equestrian sceptic. «Sir, if you don't choose to take the leap, let me»—was a phrase which generally sent the aspirant on again and to good purpose: for though the horse and rider» might fall, they made a gap, through which, and over him and his steed, the field might follow. Note 2, page 189, stanza XLVIII. Go to the coffee-house, and take another. Ia Swift's or Horace Walpole's letters I think it is mentioned, that somebody regretting the loss of a friend, was answered by an universal Pylades: When I lose one, I go to the Saint James's Coffee-house, and take another.» K I recollect having heard an anecdote of the same kind. Sir W. D. was a great gamester. Coming in one day to the club of which he was a member, he was observed to look melancholy. «What is the matter, Sir William?» cried Hare, of facetious memory. «Ah!» replied Sir W. I have just lost poor Lady D.» « Lost! What at? Quinze or Hazard?» was the consolatory rejoinder of the querist. VOL. III. 14 |