sense or good breeding: it was not my intention to make a "_Concio ad
Aulam_"--as worthy old Bishop Saunderson was fond of making--but
simply to state facts, or indulge in book chit-chat, as my memory
served me.

LIS. Nay, Lorenzo, do not disturb the stream of Lysander's eloquence.
I could listen 'till "Jocund day stood tip-toe on the mountain."

PHIL. You are a little unconscionable, Lisardo: but I apprehend
Lorenzo meant only to guard Lysander against that minuteness of
narration which takes us into every library and every study of the
period at which we are arrived. If I recollect aright, Warton was
obliged to restrain himself in the same cause.[267]

[Footnote 267: The part alluded to, in Warton, is at the
commencement of his second Dissertation "On the Introduction
of Learning into Great Britain." After rambling with the
utmost felicity, among the libraries, and especially the
monastic ones, of the earlier and middle ages--he thus
checks himself by saying, that "in pursuit of these
anecdotes, he is imperceptibly seduced into later periods,
or rather is deviating from his subject."]

LOREN. It belongs to me, Lysander, to solicit your forgiveness. If you
are not tired with the discussion of such a various and extensive
subject (and more particularly from the energetic manner in which it
is conducted on your part), rely upon it that your auditors cannot
possibly feel _ennui_. Every thing before us partakes of your
enthusiasm: the wine becomes mellower, and sparkles with a ruddier
glow; the flavour of the fruit is improved; and the scintillations of
your conversational eloquence are scattered amidst my books, my busts,
and my pictures. Proceed, I entreat you; but first, accept my libation
offered up at the shrine of an offended deity.

LYSAND. You do me, and the _Bibliomania_, too much honour. If my
blushes do not overpower me, I will proceed: but first, receive the
attestation of the deity that he is no longer affronted with you. I
drink to your health and long life!--and proceed:

If, among the numerous and gorgeous books which now surround us, it
should be my good fortune to put my hand upon one, however small or
imperfect, which could give us some account of the _History of British
Libraries_, it would save me a great deal of trouble, by causing me to
maintain at least a chronological consistency in my discourse. But,
since this cannot be--since, with all our love of b