Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.'

_Now_, here's your friend, Mr. Harrington, says it's only a _prettiness_,
and something about Ovid. I'm sure I wish you'd advise some of your friends
to leave their classics, as you did, at the musty university. What have we
to do with Ovid in London? You, yourself, Mr. Harrington, who set up for
such a critic, what fault can you find, pray, with

'Keep all cold from your breast, there's already too much?'"

By the lady's tone of voice, raised complexion, and whole air of the head,
I saw the danger was imminent, and to avoid the coming storm, I sheltered
myself under the cover of modesty; but Mowbray dragged me out to make sport
for himself.

"Oh! Harrington, that will never do. No critic! No judge! You! with all
your college honours fresh about you. Come, come, Harrington, pronounce you
must. Is this poetry or not?

'_Keep all cold from your breast, there's already too much_.'"

"Whether prose or poetry, I pronounce it to be very good advice."

"Good advice! the thing of all others I have the most detested from my
childhood," cried Lady Anne; "but I insist upon it, it is good poetry, Mr.
Harrington."

"And equally good grammar, and good English, and good sense," cried her
brother, in an ironical tone. "Come, Harrington, acknowledge it all, man--
all equally. Never stop half way, when a young--and such a young lady,