“Why, then, I think he might as well let alone singing till he’s in better cue: it’s out of all nature for a man to be piping when he’s in distress. For my part, I never sing but when I’m merry; yet I love a song as well as most people.”
When the curtain dropt they all rejoiced.
“How do you like it?"-and “How do you like it?” passed from one to another with looks of the utmost contempt. “As for me,” said Mr. Branghton, “they’ve caught me once; but if ever they do again, I’ll give ‘em leave to sing me to Bedlam for my pains: for such a heap of stuff never did I hear: there isn’t one ounce of sense in the whole opera, nothing but one continued squeaking and squalling from beginning to end.”
“If I had been in the pit,” said Madame Duval, “I should have liked it vastly, for music is my passion; but sitting in such a place as this, is quite unbearable.”
Miss Branghton, looking at me, declared, that she was