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Labouchère is at a London club with two associates, Harris and Stead.
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Start:
We invented Oscar, we bodied him forth. Then we floated him. Then we kited the stock.
[... … …]
End:
...their houses were ugly inside and out, their dress dowdy, their husbands dull, their wives plain, and their opinion on art worthless. Meanwhile, Oscar himself has never done anything.
Tom Stoppard, The Invention of Love, Grove Press, 1997, pp. 57-58.
Read a review of The Invention of Love by The New Yorker, including a brief biography of A.E. Housman: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2001/02/19/lost-horizon
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