Mistress Nell: A Merry Tale of a Merry Time

by George Cochrane Hazelton

  CHAPTER II

  _It's near your cue, Mistress Nell!_

  The greenroom of the King's House was scarcely a prepossessing place orinviting. A door led to the stage; another to the street. On theremaining doors might have been deciphered from the Old English of ascene-artist's daub "Mistress Gwyn" and "Mr. Hart." These doors ledrespectively to the tiring-room of the sweet sprite who had but now setthe pit wild with a hat over a sparkling eye and to that of theactor-manager of the House. A rough table, a few chairs, a mirror whichhad evidently seen better days in some grand mansion and a largethrone-chair which might equally well have satisfied the royalty ofMacbeth or Christopher Sly--its royalty, forsooth, being in its size,for thus only could it lord-it over its mates--stood in the corner. Oldarmour hung upon the wall, grim in the light of candles fixed inbraziers. Rushes were strewn about the floor.

  Ah! Pepys, Pepys, was it here that you recalled "specially kissing ofNell"? Mayhap; for we read in your book: "I kissed her, and so did mywife, and a mighty pretty soul she is." Be that as it may, however, youmust have found Nell's lips very agreeable; for a great wit hassuggested that it was well that Mrs. Pepys was present on the occasion.

  On great play-nights, however, this most unroyal room assumed theproportions of royalty. Gallants and even lords sought entrance here andelbowed their way about; and none dared say them nay. They forced a wayeven upon the stage during the play, though not so commonly as beforethe Restoration, yet still too much; and the players played as best theycould, and where best they could. _Billets-doux_ passed, sweetwords were said,--all in this dilapidated, unpretentious, candle-lightedroom.

  At the moment of which we speak, the greenroom was deserted save for alad of twelve or fourteen years, who stood before the mirror, posing tohis personal satisfaction and occasionally delivering bits from"Hamlet." He was none other than "Dick," the call-boy of the King'sHouse.

  The lad struck a final attitude, his brow clouded. He assumed whatseemed to him the proper pose for the royal Dane. His meditations andhis pose, however, were broken in upon by the sudden entrance of ManagerHart, flushed and in an unusual state of excitement.

  "Where is my dagger, Dick?" he exclaimed, pacing the room.

  The boy came to himself but slowly.

  "What are you doing? Get my dagger, boy," wildly reiterated the iratemanager. "Don't you see there will be a stage-wait?" He cast an anxiousglance in the direction of the door which led to the stage.

  "Where did you leave it, sir?" asked the lad, finally realizing that itwould be wise not to trifle at such a time.

  "Never mind where I left it. Get it, get it; do you hear! Nell's on thestage already." Hart rushed to the door and looked off in an increasingstate of excitement.

  "Why, you've got your dagger on, sir," hesitatingly suggested the lad,as he caught the gleam of a small scimiter among the folds of Almanzor'stunic.

  Hart's face flushed.

  "Devil take you, boy," he exclaimed; "you are too stupid ever to make anactor!"

  With this speech, the manager strode out of the greenroom toward thestage.

  Poor Dick sank back in an attitude of resignation. "How long, O Rome,must I endure this bondage?" he said, sadly.

  He again observed his boyish figure in the mirror, and the pretty facebrightened as he realized that there might still be hope in life,despite Manager Hart's assertion that he would never be able to act. Hisfeatures slowly sank into a set expression of tremendous gloom, such ashe thought should characterize his conception of himself as Hamlet whenin days to come the mantles of Burbage and of Betterton should be hisand Manager Hart must bow to him. He stood transfixed before the glassin a day-dream, forgetful of his ills. His pretty lips moved, and oneclose by might have heard again, "To be or not to be" in well-modulatedphrase.

  "Ah, boy; here!"

  Dick started.

  It was a richly dressed gallant, in old-rose with royal orders, who hadentered the room quietly but authoritatively from the street--the samelordly personage we observed in the pit. His manner was that of oneaccustomed to be obeyed and quickly too. The lad knew him and bowed low.

  "Tell Mistress Nell, Buckingham would speak with her. Lively, lad;lively," he said.

  "She is on the stage, my lord," replied Dick, respectfully.

  "Gad, I thought otherwise and stepped about from my box. Here; put theseflowers in her tiring-room."

  The boy took the beautiful bouquet of white roses. "Yes, my lord," hereplied, and turned to do the bidding.

  "Flowers strewn in ladies' ways oft' lead to princely favours," mutteredhis lordship, thoughtfully, as he removed his gloves and vainly adjustedhis hat and sword. "Portsmouth at Dover told me that."

  It was apparent from his face that much passed before his mind, in thatlittle second, of days when, at Dover Castle not long since, he had beena part--and no small part--of the intrigue well planned by Louis ofFrance, and well executed by the Duchess of Orleans assisted by the fairLouise, now Duchess of Portsmouth, in which his own purse and power hadwaxed mightily. Whatever his lordship thought, however, it was gone likethe panorama before a drowning brain.

  He stopped the lad as he was entering Nell's tiring-room, with anexclamation. The boy returned.

  "You gave Mistress Nell my note bidding her to supper?" he asked,questioningly.

  "I did, my lord," answered Dick.

  "'Sheart, a madrigal worthy of Bacchus! She smiled delightedly?"continued his lordship, in a jocular mood.

  "No, my lord; quite serious."

  His lordship's face changed slightly. "Read it eagerly?" he ventured,where he might have commanded, further to draw out the lad.

  "Yes, my lord," added Dick, respectfully, "after a time." The boy's lidsdropped to avoid revealing his amused recollection of the incident; andhis lordship's quick eye noted it.

  "Good!" he exclaimed, with an assumed triumphant air. "She folded itcarefully and placed it in her bosom next her heart?"

  "She threw it on the floor, my lord!" meekly answered Dick, hiding hisface in the flowers to avoid revealing disrespect.

  "My _billet-doux_ upon the floor!" angrily exclaimed his lordship."Plague on't, she said something, made some answer, boy?" The diplomatwas growing earnest despite himself, as diplomats often do in the causeof women.

  Dick trembled.

  "She said your dinners made amends for your company, my lord," he said,meekly.

  Buckingham's eyes snapped; but he was too clever to reveal his feelingsfurther to a call-boy, whom he dismissed with a wave of the hand. Hethen swaggered to the table and complacently exclaimed: "The rogue!Nelly, Nelly, your lips shall pay tribute for that. Rosy impudence!Buckingham's dinners make amends for his company? Minx!" He threwhimself into a chair, filled with deep reflections of supper and wine,wit and beauty, rather than state-craft.

  Thus lost in selfish reflection, he did not observe, or, if he did,cared not for, the frail figure and sweet face of one who cautiouslytiptoed into the greenroom. It was Orange Moll, whose sad countenanceand tattered garments betokened a sadder story. Her place was in thepit, with her back to the stage, vending her oranges to artisans, girlswith vizards or foolish gallants. She had no right behind the scenes.

  "I am 'most afraid to enter here without Nell," she thought,faint-heartedly, as she glanced about the room and her eyes fell uponthe great Lord Buckingham.

  "Oranges? Will you have my oranges? Only sixpence, my lord," sheventured at length, then hesitatingly advanced and offered her wares;but his lordship's thoughts were far away.

  "What shall we have for supper?" was his sole concern. "I think Nellywould like spiced tongue." Instantly his hands and eyes were raised inmock invocation of the intervention of the Powers that Be, and sosuddenly that Moll drew back. "Ye Gods," he exclaimed aloud, "she hasenough of that already! Ah, the vintage of----"

  It was more habit than courage which brought to Moll's trembling lipsthe familiar orange-cry, which again interrupted him: "Oranges; onlysixpence. Here is on
e picked for you, my lord."

  Buckingham's eyes flashed with anger; he was not wont to have his way,much less his pleasure, disturbed by the lowly. "Oh, hang you, youdisturb me. I am thinking; don't you perceive I am thinking? Begone!"

  "Only sixpence, my lord; I have not sold one to-night," pleaded thegirl, sadly.

  His lordship rose irritably. "I have no pauper's pence," he exclaimed."Out of my way! Ragbag!" He pushed the girl roughly aside and crossedthe room.

  At the same instant, there was confusion at the stage-door, the climaxof which was the re-entrance of Hart into the greenroom.

  "How can a man play when he trembles for his life lest he step upon alord?" cried the angry manager. "They should be horsewhipped off thestage, and"--his eyes falling upon Buckingham--"out of the greenroom."

  "Ah, Hart," began his lordship, with a patronizing air, "why is Nelly solong? I desire to see her."

  Hart's lips trembled, but he controlled his passion. "Indeed? HisMajesty and the good folk in front would doubtless gladly await yourinterview with Mistress Eleanor Gwyn. Shall I announce your will, mylord, unto his Majesty and stop the play?"

  "You grow ironical, friend Hart," replied his lordship.

  "Not so," said the actor, bowing low; "I am your lordship's mostobedient servant."

  Buckingham's lip curled and his eyes revealed that he would have saidmore, but the room was meantime filling with players from the stage,some exchanging compliments, some strutting before the glass, and hewould not so degrade his dignity before them. Dick, foil in hand even inthe manager's room, was testing the steel's strength to his utmost, inboyish fashion.

  This confusion lent Moll courage, and forth came again the cry:"Oranges? Will you have my oranges? Only sixpence, sir."

  She boldly offered her wares to Almanzor, but started and paled whenthe hero turned and revealed Manager Hart.

  "What are you doing here, you little imp? Back to the pit, where youbelong." The manager's voice was full of meaning.

  "Nell told me I might come here, sir," said the girl, faintly excusingherself.

  Hart's temper got the better of him. To admit before all that Nell ruledthe theatre was an affront to his managerial dignity which he could notbrook.

  "Oh, Nell did, did she?" he almost shrieked, as he angrily paced theroom like some caged beast, gesticulating wildly.

  The actors gathered in groups and looked askant.

  "Gadso," he continued, "who is manager, I should like to know! Nellwould introduce her whole trade here if she could. Every orange-peddlerin London will set up a stand in the greenroom at the King's, next weknow. Out with you! This is a temple of art, not a marketplace. Out withyou!"

  He seized Moll roughly in his anger and almost hurled her out at thedoor. He would have done so, indeed, had not Nell entered at this momentfrom the stage. Her eye caught the situation at a glance.

  "Oh, blood, Iago, blood!" she exclaimed, mock-heroically, then burstinto the merriest laugh that one could care to hear. "How now, a tragedyin the greenroom! What lamb is being sacrificed?"

  Hart stood confused; the players whispered in expectation; and an amusedsmile played upon the features of my Lord Buckingham at the manager'sdiscomfiture. Finally Hart found his tongue.

  "An old comrade of yours at orange-vending before you lost the art ofacting," he suggested, with a glance at Moll.

  "ENEMIES TO THE KING--BEWARE!"]"By association with you, Jack?" replied the witch of the theatre in away which bespoke more answers that wisdom best not bring forth.

  Nell's whole heart went out to the subject of the controversy. Poorlittle tattered Orange Moll! She was carried back in an instant to herown bitter life and bitter struggles when an orange-girl. Throwing anarm about the child, she kissed away the tears with, "What is thematter, dear Moll?"

  "They are all mocking me, and sent me back to the pit," replied thegirl, hysterically.

  "Shame on you all," said Nell; and the eyes that were so full of comedyrevealed tragic fire.

  "Fy, fy," pleaded Hart; "I'll be charitable to-morrow, Nell, after thisstrain is off--but a first night--"

  "You need charity yourself?" suggested Nell; and she burst into a merrylaugh, in which many joined.

  Buckingham instantly took up the gauntlet for a bold play, for a _coupd'etat_ in flattery. "Pshaw!" he cried, waving aside the players in aprincely fashion. "When Nell plays, we have no time to munch oranges.Let the wench bawl in the street."

  Poor Moll's tears flowed again with each harsh word. Nell was not soeasily affected.

  "Odso, my lord! It is a pity your lordship is not a player. Then theorange-trade would flourish," she said.

  Buckingham bowed, amused and curious. "Say you so, i' faith! Pray, why,mad minx?"

  "Your lordship would make such a good mark for the peel," retorted Nell,tossing a bit of orange-peel in his face, to the infinite delight ofHart and his fellow-players.

  "Devil!" angrily exclaimed his lordship as he realized the insult. "Iwould kill a man for this; a woman, I can only love." His hand left hissword-hilt; and he bowed low to the vixen of the theatre, picked fromthe floor the bit of peel which had fallen, kissed it, tossed it overhis shoulder and turned away.

  Nell was not done, however; her revenge was incomplete. "There! dry youreyes, Moll," she exclaimed. "Give me your basket, child. You shall beavenged still further."

  The greenroom had now filled from the stage and the tiring-rooms; andall gathered gleefully about to see what next the impish Nell would do,for avenged she would be they all knew, though the course of hervengeance none could guess.

  The manager, catching at the probable outcome when Nell seized fromMoll's trembling arm the basket heaped with golden fruit, gave the firstwarning: "Great Heavens! Flee for your lives! I'faith, here comes theveteran robber at such traffic."

  There was a sudden rush for the stage, but Nell cried: "Guard the door,Moll; don't let a rascal out. I'll do the rest."

  It was not Moll's strength, however, which kept the greenroom filled,but expectation of Nell. All gathered about with the suspense of adrama; for Nell herself was a whole play as she stood in the centre ofthat little group of lords and players, dressed for Almahyde, Dryden'sheroine, with a basket of oranges on her dimpled arm. What a prettypicture she was too--prettier here even than on the stage! The nearer,the prettier! A band of roses, one end of which formed a garland fallingto the floor, circled and bound in her curls. What a figure in herOriental garb, hiding and revealing. Indeed, the greenroom seemedbewitched by her cry: "Oranges, will you have my oranges?"

  She lifted the basket high and offered the fruit in her enchantingold-time way, a way which had won for her the place of first actress inEngland. Could it not now dispose of Moll's wares and make the childhappy? Almahyde's royal train was caught up most unroyally, revealingtwo dainty ankles; and she laughed and danced and disposed of her waresall in a breath. Listen and love:

  _Sweet as love-lips, dearest mine, Picked by Spanish maids divine, Black-eyed beauties, who, like Eve, With golden fruit their loves deceive! Buy oranges; buy oranges!_

  _Close your eyes, when these you taste; Think your arm about her waist: Thus with sixpence may you win Happiness unstained with sin. Buy oranges; buy oranges!_

  _As the luscious fruit you sip, You will wager 'tis her lip; Nothing sweeter since the rise Of wickedness in Paradise. Buy oranges; buy oranges!_

  There were cries of "Brava!" "Another jig!" and "Hurrah for Nelly!" Itwas one of those bits of acting behind the scenes which are so rare andexquisite and which the audience never see.

  "Marry, gallants, deny me after that, if you dare"; and Nell's littlefoot came down firmly in the last step of a triumphant jig, indicating adetermination that Moll's oranges should be sold and quickly too.

  "Last act! All ready for the last act," rang out in Dick's familiarvoice from the stage-door as she ended. It was well some one thought ofthe play and of the audience in waiting.
<
br />   Many of the players hastily departed to take up their cues; but not soNell. Her eyes were upon the lordly Buckingham, who was endeavouring toeffect a crafty exit.

  "Not so fast, my lord," she said as she caught his handsome cloak anddrew him back into the room. "I want you with me." She looked coyly intohis lordship's face as though he were the one man in all the world sheloved, and her curls and cheek almost nestled against his rich cloak. "Adozen, did you say? What a heart you have, my lord. A bountiful heart!"

  Buckingham was dazed; his eyes sought Nell, then looked aghast at theoranges she would force upon him. The impudence of it!

  "A dozen!" he exclaimed in awe. "'Slife, Nelly; what would I do with adozen oranges?"

  "Pay for them, in sooth," promptly replied the vixen. "I never give alord credit."

  The player-folk gathered closer to watch the scene; for there wasevidently more fun brewing, and that too at the expense of a very royalgentleman.

  "A player talk of credit!" replied his lordship, quite ironically, as hestraightened up proudly for a wit-encounter. "What would become of themummers, if the lords did not fill their empty pockets?" he said,crushingly.

  "What would become of the lords, if the players' brains did not try tofill their empty skulls with wits?" quickly retorted Nell.

  "If you were a man, sweet Nelly, I should answer: 'The lords first hadfools at court; then supplanted them with players!'"

  "And, being a woman, I do answer," replied the irrepressible Nell,"'--and played the fools themselves, my lord!'"

  The players tried to smother their feelings; but the retort was too apt,and the greenroom rang with laughter.

  Buckingham turned fiercely upon them; but their faces were instantlymummified.

  "Gad, I would sooner face the Dutch fleet, Nelly. Up go my hands, fairrobber," he said. He had decided to succumb for the present. In hisfinger-tips glistened a golden guinea.

  Nell eyed the coin dubiously.

  "Nay, keep this and your wares too," added his lordship, in hope ofpeace, as he placed it in her hand.

  "Do you think me a beggar?" replied Nell, indignantly. "Take yourpossessions, every one--every orange." She filled his hands and arms tooverflowing with her golden wares.

  His lordship winced, but stood subdued.

  "What am I to do with them?" he asked, falteringly.

  "Eat them; eat them," promptly and forcefully retorted the quondamorange-vender.

  "All?" asked his lordship.

  "All!" replied her ladyship.

  "Damme, I cannot hold a dozen," he exclaimed, aghast.

  "A chair! A chair!" cried Nell. "Would your lordship stand at the feastof gold?"

  Before Buckingham had time to reflect upon the outrage to his dignity,Nell forced him into a chair, to the great glee of the by-standers,especially of Manager Hart, who chuckled to an actor by his side:"She'll pluck his fine feathers; curse his arrogance."

  "Your knees together, my lord! What, have they never united in prayer?"gleefully laughed Nell as she further humbled his lordship by forcinghis knees together to form a lap upon which to pile more oranges.

  Buckingham did not relish the scene; but he was clever enough to humourthe vixen, both from fear of her tongue and from hope of favours as wellas words from her rosy lips.

  "They'll unite to hold _thee_, wench," he suggested, with a sicklylaugh, as he observed his knees well laden with oranges. "I trow not,"retorted Nell; "they can scarce hold their own. There!" and sheroguishly capped the pyramid which burdened his lordship's knees withthe largest in her basket.

  "I'll barter these back for my change, sweet Nell," he pleaded.

  "What change?" quickly cried the merry imp of Satan.

  "I gave you a golden guinea," answered his lordship, woefully.

  "I gave you a golden dozen, my lord!" replied Nell, gleefully.

  "Oranges, who will have my oranges?"

  She was done with Buckingham and had turned about for other prey.

  Hart could not allow the opportunity to escape without a shot at hishated lordship.

  "Fleeced," he whispered grimly over his lordship's shoulder, with amerry chuckle.

  Buckingham rose angrily.

  "A plague on the wench and her dealings," he said. His oranges rolledfar and wide over the floor of the greenroom.

  "You should be proud, my lord, to be robbed by so fair a hand,"continued Hart, consolingly. "'Tis an honour, I assure you; we all envyyou."

  Buckingham did not relish the consolation.

  "'Tis an old saw, Master Hart," he replied: "'He laughs best who laughslast.'"

  As he spoke, Nell's orange-cry rang out again above the confusion andthe fun. She was still at it. Moll was finding vengeance and money,indeed, though she dwelt upon her accumulating possessions througheyelashes dim with tears.

  "It's near your cue, Mistress Nell," cried out the watchful Dick at thestage-door.

  "Six oranges left; see me sell them, Moll," cried the unheeding vender.

  "It's near your cue, Mistress Nell!" again shouted the call-boy, inanxious tones.

  "Marry, my cue will await my coming, pretty one," laughed Nell.

  The boy was not so sure of that. "Oh, don't be late, Mistress Nell," hepleaded. "I'll buy the oranges rather than have you make a stage-wait."

  "Dear heart," replied Nell, touched by the lad's solicitude. "Keep yourpennies, Dick, and you and I will have a lark with them some fine day.Six oranges, left; going--going--" She sprang into the throne-chair,placed one of the smallest feet in England impudently on one of its armsand proceeded to vend her remaining wares from on high, to the hugesatisfaction of her admirers.

  The situation was growing serious. Nell was not to be trifled with. Theactors stood breathless. Hart grew wild as he realized the difficultyand the fact that she was uncontrollable. King and Parliament, he wellknew, could not move her from her whimsical purpose, much less themanager of the King's.

  "What are you doing, Nell?" he pleaded, wildly. "You will ruin the firstnight. His Majesty in front, too! Dryden will never forgive us if'Granada' goes wrong through our fault."

  "Heyday! What care I for 'Granada'?" and Nell swung the basket oforanges high in air and calmly awaited bids. "Not a step on the stagetill the basket is empty."

  It was Buckingham's turn now. "Here's music for our manager," hechuckled. "Our deepest sympathy, friend Hart."

  This was more than Hart could bear. The manager of the King's House wasforced into profanity. "Damn your sympathy," exclaimed he; and few wouldcriticise him for it. He apologized as quickly, however, and turned toNell. "There goes your scene, Nell. I'll buy your oranges, when you comeoff," he continued to plead, in desperation, scarcely less fearful ofoffending her than of offending the great Lord Buckingham.

  "Now or never," calmly replied the vender from her chair-top.

  "The devil take the women," muttered Hart, frantically, as he rushedheadlong into his tiring-room.

  "Marry, Heaven defend," laughed Nell; "for he's got the men already."She sprang lightly from the chair to the floor.

  Hart was back on the instant, well out of breath but purse in hand.

  "Here, here," he exclaimed. "Never mind the oranges, wench. The audiencewill be waiting."

  "Faith and troth, and is not Nell worth waiting for?" she cried, hereyes shining radiantly. Indeed, the audience would have gladly waited,could they have but seen her pretty, winsome way! "These areyours--all--all!" she continued, as she gleefully emptied the basket ofits remaining fruit over Prince Almanzor's head.

  Hart protested vainly.

  Then rushing back to Moll, Nell threw both arms about the girltriumphantly. "There, Moll," she said, "is your basket and all thetrophies"; and she gave Moll the basket with the glittering coinsjangling in it.

  "Your cue--your cue is spoken, Mistress Nell," shrieked Dick from thestage-door.

  Nell heeded not. Her eyes happening upon an orange which had fallen nearthe throne-chair, she caught it up eagerly and hurled it
at ManagerHart.

  "Forsooth, here's another orange, Master Manager."

  He succeeded in catching it despite his excitement.

  "Your cue--your cue--Mistress Nell!" came from every throat as one.

  Nell tossed back her head indifferently. "Let them wait; let them wait,"she said, defiantly.

  The stage-beauty crossed leisurely to the glass and carelessly arrangedher drapery and the band of roses encircling her hair.

  Then the hoyden was gone. In an instant, Nell was transformed into theprincess, Almahyde. The room had been filled with breathless suspense;but what seemed to the players an endless period of time was but aminute. Nell turned to the manager, and with all the suavity of aprincess of tragedy kissed her hand tantalizingly to him and said: "Now,Jack, I'll teach you how to act."

  She passed out, and, in a moment, rounds of applause from theamphitheatre filled the room. She was right; the audience would wait forher.

  A moment later, the greenroom was deserted except for Manager Hart andLord Buckingham. Hart had thrown the call-boy almost bodily through thedoor that led to the stage, thus venting his anger upon the unoffendinglad, who had been unfortunate enough to happen in his way ill betimes.He now stood vainly contemplating himself before the glass and awaitinghis cue. Buckingham leaned upon a chair-top, uncertain as to his course.

  "Damme! She shall rue this work," he muttered at length. "A man might aswell make love to a wind-mill. I forgot to tell her how her gown becomesher. That is a careless thing to forget." The reflection forthwithdetermined his course. "Nelly, Nelly, Nelly," he called as he quicklycrossed the room after the departed Nell, "you are divine to-night. Yourgown is simply--"

  The manager's voice stayed him at the stage-door. "My lord, come back;my lord--"

  Buckingham's hand had gone so far, indeed, as to push open the door. Hestood entranced as he looked out upon the object of his adoration uponthe stage. "Perfection!" he exclaimed. "Your eyes--"

  "My lord, my lord, you forget--"

  Buckingham turned indignantly at the voice which dared to interrupt himin the midst of his rhapsody.

  "You forget--your oranges, my lord," mildly suggested Hart, as hepointed to the fruit scattered upon the floor.

  Buckingham's face crimsoned. "Plague on't! They are sour, Master Hart."With a glance of contempt, he turned on his heel and left the room.

  A triumphant smile played upon the manager's face. He felt that he hadannoyed his lordship without his intention being apparent. "A good exit,on my honour," he muttered, as he stood contemplating the door throughwhich Buckingham had passed; "but, by Heaven, he shall better it unlesshe takes his eyes from Nell. Great men believe themselves resistlesswith the fair; more often, the fair are resistless with great men."

  He took a final look at himself in the glass, adjusted his scimiter;and, well satisfied with himself and the conceit of his epigram unheardsave by himself, he also departed, to take up his cue.