SCENE I.—_Committee-room of the Conservatives, Charles-street_; LORD

FLUMM; MARQUIS OF FLAMBOROUGH; LORD GEORGE; LORD CHARLES; _other Tory Lords, and_ TRIM. _A table covered with papers_; LORD CHARLES _smoking a cigar_; LORD GEORGE _half asleep in an arm-chair_; TRIM _busy in looking over a list of the House of Commons_.

_Trim._ It will be a devilish close run I see!—yet I think we might manage some of them (_Pause_). Does anybody know _Turnstile_?

_Marquis._ Never heard of him!

_Lord George._ (_Mumbling_). The reform Member for Puddledock, isn’t he?—the author of a book on Pinmaking, and things of that kind. An ironmonger in Newgate-street!

_Trim._ No, no! Member for Shoreditch;—with Smooth, the Colonial Secretary!

_Lord Charles._ (_Taking the cigar from his mouth._) I think I’ve heard something of him at Cambridge: he was Newtonian Professor of Chemistry when I was at College.

_Trim._ Can’t we talk him over?

_Lord Charles._ No, no! he is too sharp for that.

_Trim._ Will anybody speak to him?—and if he won’t vote with us, keep him out of the way.

_Marquis._ Perhaps a hint at an appointment!—

_Lord Charles._ Nor that either; he is a fellow of some spirit; and devilish proud. {278}

_Lord Flumm._ But what are his tastes?—how does he employ himself?—who are his friends?

_Trim._ Why he’s—a sort of a—philosopher,—that wants to be a man of the world!

_Lord Flumm._ Oh!—now I begin to recollect;—I must have seen him at Sir Phillip’s. Leave him to me;—I think Lady Flumm and my daughter can manage to keep him quiet on Thursday night.

_Trim._ But for Tuesday,—my Lord?

_Lord Flumm._ Two nights!—Then I must try what I can do for you, myself. [_Exit._