his landlady, who declares, with some show of justice, that she "would
no more depend on a Benefit-Night of an un-acted Play, than she wou'd on
a Benefit-Ticket in an un-drawn Lottery." "Her Floor (she laments) is
all spoil'd with Ink--her Windows with Verses, and her Door has been
almost beat down with Duns." But the most humorous scenes in the play--
scenes really admirable in their ironic delineation of the seamy side of
authorship in 1730--are those in which Mr. Bookweight, the publisher--
the Curll or Osborne of the period--is shown surrounded by the obedient
hacks, who feed at his table on "good Milk-porridge, very often twice a
Day," and manufacture the murders, ghost-stories, political pamphlets,
and translations from Virgil (out of Dryden) with which he supplies his
customers. Here is one of them as good as any:--

"_Bookweight._ So, Mr. _Index_, what News with you?

_Index._ I have brought my Bill, Sir.

_Book._ What's here?--for fitting the Motto of _Risum teneatis Amici_ to
a dozen Pamphlets at Sixpence per each, Six Shillings--For _Omnia vincit
Amor, & nos cedamus Amori_, Sixpence--For _Difficile est Satyram non
scribere_, Sixpence--Hum! hum! hum! Sum total, for Thirty-six _Latin_
Motto's, Eighteen Shillings; ditto _English_, One Shilling and Nine-
pence; ditto _Greek_, Four, Four Shillings. These _Greek_ Motto's are
excessively dear.

_Ind._ If you have them cheaper at either of the Universities, I will
give you mine for nothing.

_Book._ You shall have your Money immediately, and pray remember that I
must have two _Latin_ Seditious Motto's and one _Greek_ Moral Motto for