"_Sim._ Just so.

"_Monop._ What Mr. Simile says is very true, gentlemen; and there
is nothing surprising in it, if we consider now the general method of
writing _plays to scenes._

"_O'Cul._ Writing _plays to scenes_!--Oh, you are joking.

"_Monop._ Not I, upon my word. Mr. Simile knows that I have
frequently a complete set of scenes from Italy, and then I have nothing
to do but to get some ingenious hand to write a play to them.

"_Sim._ I am your witness, Sir. Gentlemen, you perceive you know
nothing about these matters.

"_O'Cul._ Why, Mr. Simile, I don't pretend to know much relating to
these affairs, but what I think is this, that in this method, according
to your principles, you must often commit blunders.

"_Sim._ Blunders! to be sure I must, but I always could get myself
out of them again. Why, I'll tell you an instance of it.--You must know
I was once a journeyman sonnet-writer to Signor Squallini. Now, his
method, when seized with the _furor harmonicus_, was constantly to
make me sit by his side, while he was thrumming on his harpsichord, in
order to make extempore verses to whatever air he should beat out to his
liking. I remember, one morning, as he was in this situation, _thrum,
thrum, thrum, (moving his fingers as if beating on the harpsichord,)_
striking out something prodigiously great, as he thought,--'Hah!' said
he,--'hah! Mr. Simile, _thrum, thrum, thrum,_ by gar here is vary