Godfrey to lord Martin, announcing his name,
and informing his lordship, that he was to be met with any time in the
ensuing week at Mr. Moreland's.
Lord Martin was a good deal bruised and enfeebled with the adventure of
the preceding evening. He had been obliged to undergo a lustration of near
an hour, before he could be put to bed. He was just risen, when the
message was delivered. "Zounds!" cried the peer, "he is, is he? And so
this fellow, whom nobody knows, has the impudence to snub me! By my title,
and all the blood of my ancestors, he is not worthy of my sword. I will
have him assassinated. I will hire some blackguards to seize him, and bind
him in my presence, and I will bastinado him with my own hand. Furies and
curses! I do not know what to do. Oh, this confounded vanity! Not
contented with one disgrace, I have brought upon myself another, ten times
more mortifying than the first. By Tartarus, and all the infernal gods, I
believe I had better let it rest where it is! Wretch, wretch, that I am!"
And he threw himself on the bed in an agony of despair.
Damon had slept little the preceding night, and his slumbers had been
disturbed with a thousand horrible imaginations. The first person who
appeared in his chamber the next morning he addressed with "Where, where
is she? Where is my Delia? My life, my soul, the mistress of my fate? Ah,
why do you look so haggard, so unconsoling.
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