"For instance, your gay people, who toil through nominal pleasures,
dressing by rule and compass, lacing, bracing, patching, painting,
plastering, penciling, curling, pinching, and all to go out and be looked
at: going from party to party in the middle of the night, pretending not
to be sleepy, suppressing each rising yawn, and trying to make the lips
smile and the eyes twinkle, and to look animated in spite of fatigue: and
all this for no earthly purpose--too old to care about lovers, and without
daughters to marry. Why should an ugly old maid of sixty-six take all
these pains, or leave her own snug fireside, if she had not a touch of the
popular complaint.

"Then your man of pleasure, risking his life at every corner in a cab,
with a restive horse; wearing all his clothes painfully tight to show off
his figure, confining his neck in a bandage, pouring liquids down his
throat, though he knows they will give him a headache, sitting up all
night shaking bits of bone together for the mere purpose of giving
somebody a chance of winning all his money, or offering bets on racehorses
to afford himself and family an opportunity of changing opulence for
beggary! He has the popular complaint of course.

"Then your man of business: your public servant, toiling, and striving and
figetting about matters of state, sacrificing health, and the snug
comforts of a private gentleman, for the sake of popularity! _His_
complaint _is_ popular indeed. Then your physician, courting extensive
practice, and ambitious of the honour of never having time to eat a
comfortable meal, and proud of being called out of bed the moment he is
composing himself to sleep! _He_ must be raving. Then your barrister,
fagging over dull books, and wearing a three-tailed wig, and talking for
hours, that his client, right or wrong, may be successful! All these
people appear to me to be awfully excited: the popular complaint is strong