hat I might
tread upon it, or crush it, or pummel it, or kick it, or spit it
out--for it sticks in my throat and will choak me.

My plaguy ancestors! if they had left me but a Van or a Mac, or an Irish
O', it had been something to qualify it.--Mynheer Van Hogsflesh--or
Sawney Mac Hogsflesh,--or Sir Phelim O'Hogsflesh,--but downright
blunt------. If it had been any other name in the world, I could have
borne it. If it had been the name of a beast, as Bull, Fox, Kid, Lamb,
Wolf, Lion; or of a bird, as Sparrow, Hawk, Buzzard, Daw, Finch,
Nightingale; or of a fish, as Sprat, Herring, Salmon; or the name of a
thing, as Ginger, Hay, Wood; or of a colour, as Black, Grey, White,
Green; or of a sound, as Bray; or the name of a month, as March, May; or
of a place, as Barnet, Baldock, Hitchin; or the name of a coin, as
Farthing, Penny, Twopenny; or of a profession, as Butcher, Baker,
Carpenter, Piper, Fisher, Fletcher, Fowler, Glover; or a Jew's name, as
Solomons, Isaacs, Jacobs; or a personal name, as Foot, Leg, Crookshanks,
Heaviside, Sidebottom, Longbottom, Ramsbottom, Winterbottom; or a long
name, as Blanchenhagen, or Blanchenhausen; or a short name, as Crib,
Crisp, Crips, Tag, Trot, Tub, Phips, Padge, Papps, or Prig, or Wig, or
Pip, or Trip; Trip had been something, but Ho------.

_(Walks about in great agitation,--recovering his calmness a little,
sits down.)_

Farewell the most distant thoughts of marriage; the finger-circling
ring, the purity-figuring glove, the envy-pining bride-maids, the
wishing parson, and the simpering clerk. Farewell, the ambiguous
blush-raising joke, the titter-provoking pun, the morning-stirring
drum.--No son of mine shall exist, to bear my ill-fated name. No nurse
come chuckling, to tell me it is a boy. No midwife, leering at me from
under the lids of professional gravity. I dreamed of caudle. _(Sings in
a melancholy tone)_ Lullaby, Lullaby,--hush-a-by-baby--how like its papa
it is!--_(makes motions as if he was nursing)_. And then, when grown up,
"Is this your son, Sir?" "Yes, Sir, a poor copy of me,--a sad young
dog,--just what his father was at his age,--I have four more at home."
Oh! oh! oh!

_Enter Landlord._

MR. H.
Landlord, I must pack up to-night; you will see all my things got ready.

LANDLORD
Hope your Honor does not intend to quit the Blue Boar,--sorry any thing
has happened.

MR. H.
He has heard it all.

LANDLORD
Your Honour has had some mortification, to be sure, as a m