rafcal? Is that all your manners? Has his Majesty dubb'd me a Knight for you to make me a Mister? Are the candidates near upon coming? Rog. Nic Goofe the taylor from Putney, they say, will be here in a crack, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. Has Margery fetch'd in the linen? Rog. Yes, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. Are the pigs and the poultry lock'd up in the barn? Rog. Safe, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. And the plate and fpoons in the pantry? Sir Jac. Then give me the key: the mob will foon be upon us; and all is fish that comes to their net. Has Ralph laid the cloth in the hall ? Rog. Yes, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. Then let him bring out the turkey and chine; and be fure there is plenty of muftard ; and, d'ye hear, Roger, do you ftand yourself at the gate, and be careful who you let in. Rog. I will, Sir Jacob. [Exit Rog. Sir Jac. So, now I believe things are pretty fecure : but I can't think what makes my daughters fo late e'er they [Knocking at the gate. Who is that, Roger? Rog. (without) Mafter Lint, the potter carrier, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. Let him in ; what the deuce can he want? Enter Lint. Sir Jac. Well, Master Lint, your will? Lint. Why, I come, Sir Jacob, partly to in inquire after your health, and partly, as I may fay, to settle the bufinefs of the day. Sir Jac. What business? Lint. Your worship knoweth, this being the day of election, the rabble may be riotous; in which cafe, maims, bruifes, contufions, diflocations, fractures fimple and compound, may likely enfue: now your worship need not be told, that I am not only a pharmacopolift, or vender of drugs, but likewife chirurgeon, or healer of wounds. Sir Jac. True, Mafter Lint, and equally fkilful in both. Lint. It is your worship's pleasure to say fo, Sir Jacob. Is it your worship's will that I lend a miniftering hand to the maim'd? Sir Jac. By all means. Lint. And to whom must I bring in my bill? Sir Jac. Doubtless the vestry. Lint. Your worship knows, that kill or cure, I have contracted to phyfic the parish-poor by the great: but this must be a feparate charge. Sir Jac. No, no; all under one: come, Master Lint, don't be unreasonable. Lint. Indeed, Sir Jacob, I can hardly afford it. What with the dearness of drugs, and the number of patients the peace has procured me, I can't get falt to my porridge. Sir Jac. Bad this year, the better the next.muft take things rough and smooth as they run. Lint. Indeed I have a very hard bargain. -We Sir Jac. No fuch matter; we are, neighbour Lint, a little better inftructed. Formerly, indeed a fit of illnefs was very expenfive; but now phyfic is cheaper than food. Lint. Marry, heaven forbid. Sir Jac. No, no; your effences, elixirs, emetics, fweats, drops, and your paftes, and your pills, have filenced your peftles and mortars. Why, a fever that would formerly have cost you a fortune, you may now cure for a penn'orth of powder. Lint. Or kill, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. And then as to your fcurvies and gouts, rheumatisms, confumptions, coughs, and catarrhs, tarwater and turpentine will make you as found as a roach. Lint. Noftrums. Sir Jac. Specifics, fpecifics, Master Lint. Lint. I am very forry to find a man of your worfhip's-Sir Jacob, a promoter of puffs; an encourager of quacks, Sir Jacob.. Sir Jac. Regulars, Lint, regulars; look at their names -Roger, bring me the news them but is either P. L. or M. D. A 2 not a foul of Lint. Lint. Plaguy liars; murderous dogs! Roger brings the News. Sir Jac. Liars! Here, look at the lift of thei cures. The oath of Margary Squab, of Ratcliff-High way, fpinfter. Lini. Perjuries. Sir Jac. And fee here, the churchwardens have fign ed it Lint. Fictitious, Sir Jacob. Sir Jac. Sworn before the worfhipful Mr. Juftice Drowfy this thirteenth day of Lint. Forgery. Sir Jac. Why, hark'ye, firrah, do you think Mr. Juftice Drowfy would fet his hand to a forgery? Lint. I know, Sir Jacob, that woman; fhe has been cured of fifty difeafes in a fortnight, and every one of Rem mortal. Sir Jac. You impudent Lint. Of a dropfy, by Weft- Lint. A cancer, by Cleland Sir Jac. Arrogant Lint. A palfy, by Walker Sir Jac. Impertinent Lint. Gout and fciatic, by Rock Sir Jac. Infolent Lint. Confumption, by Steven's drops Sir Jac. Paltry Lint. And fquinting, by the Chevalier Taylor.- Lint. And as to the justice, so the affidavit brings him a fhilling Sir Jac. Why, hark'ye, rafcal, how dare you abufe the commiffion?-You blood-letting, tooth-drawing, corn-cutting, worm-killing, bliftering. gliftering Lint. Blefs me, Sir Jacob, I did not think toSir Jac. What, firrah, dó you infult me in my office? Here, Roger, out with him-Turn him out. Lint. Sir, as I hope to be Sir Jac. Away with him. You fcoundrel, if my clerk was within, I'd fend you this inftant to Bridewell. Things are come to a pretty pass indeed, if after all |