Tim. Yes, fath, I know Bath; I was there in way up.

Sir Greg. Hush, Tim! good now, hush!

Hart. There's a coffee-house, you; - a place where people drink coffee and tea, and read the

news.

Sir Greg. Pray, Sir Penurious, how many papers may they take in?

Hart. Pshaw! damn the news! mind the story. Sir Greg. Good now, good now! a hasty man,

Tim!

Hart. Pox take you both! I have lost the story. -where did I leave off, hey, you Dick?

Tim. About coffee and tea.

Hart. Right, you, right! true, true!-so, God, you knight, I used to breakfast at this coffee-house every morning; it cost me eight-pence though, and I had always a breakfast at home no matter for that, though there I breakfasted, you Dick, God, at the same table with Lord Tom Truewit: you have heard of Truewit, you knight; a droll dog! you Dick, he told us the story and made us die with laughing:-you have heard of Charles the Second, you knight; he was son of Charles the First, king here in England, that was beheaded by Oliver Cromwell:so what does Charles the Second, you knight, do; but he fights Noll at Worcester; a town you have heard of, not far off; but all would not do, you; God, Noll made him scamper, made him run, take to his heels, you knight;-Truewit told us the story, made us die with laughing; I always breakfasted at the coffee house; it cost me eight-pence, though I had a breakfast at home-so what does Charles do, but hid himself in an oak,

an

an oak-tree, you, in awood called Boscobel, from
two Italian words, bosco bello, a fine wood, you,
and off he marches: but old Noll would not let him
come home; no, says he, you don't come here!-
Lord Tom told us the story; made us die with
laughing; it cost me eight-pence, though I had a
breakfast at home--so, you knight, when Noll
died, Monk there, you, afterwards Albermarle, in
the North, brought him back; so, you, the cava-
liers; you have heard of them? they were friends
to the Stuarts; what did they do, God, you Dick,
but they put up Charles in a sign, the royal oak;
you have seen such signs at country alehouses; so,
God, you,
what does a puritan do- the Puritans
were friends to Noll-but he puts up the sign of an
owl in an ivy-bush, and underneath he writes "This
is not the royal oak!" you have seen writings un-
der signs, you knight: upon this, say the royalists,
God, this must not be; so, you, what do they do,
but, God, they prosecuted the poor Puritan; but
they made him change his sign though; and, you
Dick, how d'ye think they changed? God, he puts
up the royal oak, and underneath he writes "This
is not the owl in the ivy-bush!"-It made us all die
with laughing! Lord Tom told the story; I always
breakfasted at the coffee-house, though it cost me
eight-pence, and I had a breakfast at home
hey, you knight! what, Dick, hey!

Sir Greg. Good now, good now! wonderful!
Tim. A choice tale, fath!

Jenk. Oh, Sir Penurious is a most entertaining companion, that must be allowed.

Sir Greg. Good now! ay, ay, a merry man! but, lack-a-day, would not the young lady choose

a little refreshment after her ride? some tea, or

some

Hart. Hey, you knight! no, no! we intend to dine with thee, man. Well, you Tim, what dost think of thy father-in-law that is to be, hey? a jolly cock, you Tim; hey, Dick! But prithee, boy, what dost do with all this tawdry tinsel on? that hat and waistcoat? trash, knight, trash! more in thy pocket and less in thy clothes; hey, you Dick! God, you knight, I'll make you laugh: I went to London, you Dick, last year to call in a mortgage; and what does me I, Dick, but take a trip to a coffee-house in St. Martin's Lane; in comesa French fellow forty times as fine as Tim, with his muff and parlevous, and his Francés, and his head, you knight, as white with powder, God, you, as a twelfth-cake: and who the devil d'ye think, Dick, this might be! hey, you knight?

Sir Greg. Good now! an ambassador to be sure! Hart. God, you knight, nor better nor worser than Mynheer Vancaper, a Dutch figure-dancer at the opera-house in the Haymarket.

Sir Greg. Wonderful! good now, good now! Hart. Pshaw! pox! prithee, Tim, nobody dresses now; all plain; look at me, knight, I am in the tip of the mode; now am I in full dress; hey, Dick!

Jenk. You, sir, don't want the aids of dress; but, in Mr. Gazette, a little regard to that particular is but a necessary compliment to his mistress.

Hart. Stuff, Dick, stuff! my daughter, knight, has had other guise breeding; hey, you! Suck, come forward. Plain as a pike-staff, knight; all as nature made her; hey, Tim, no flams! prithee,

Tim, off with thy lace and burn it; 'twill help to buy the licence; she'll not like thee a bit the better for that; hey, Suck! But, you knight, God, Dick, a toast and tankard would not be amiss after our walk; hey, you?

Sir Greg. Good now, good now! what you will, Sir Penurious.

Hart. God, that's hearty, you! but we won't part the young couple, hey! I'll send Suck some bread and cheese in; hey, knight! At her, Tim! Come, Dick; come, you knight. Did I ever tell you my courtship; hey, Dick? 'twill make you laugh.

Jenk. Not as I remember.

Sir Greg. Lack-a-day! let's have it.

Hart. You know my wife was blind, you knight?
Sir Greg. Good now! wonderful! not I.

Hart. Blind as a beetle when I married her, knight; hey, Dick! she was drowned in our orchard: maid Bess, knight, went to market, you Dick; and wife rambled into the orchard, and, souse, dropped into the fish-pond: we found her out next day, but she was as dead as a herring: no help for that, Dick; buried her though; hey, you! she was only daughter to Sir Tristram Muckworm, you; rich enough, you, hey! God, you, what does she do, you, but she falls in love with young Sleek, her father's chaplain; hey, you! upon that what does me I, but slips on domine's robes, you; passed myself upon her for him, and we were tacked together, you knight, hey! God, though I believe she never liked me; but what signifies that? hey, Dick! she was rich, you! But, come, let's leave the children together.

Sir Greg.

Sir Greg. Sir, I wait on you.

Hart. Nay, pray

Sir Greg. Good now, good now! 'tis impossi

ble!

Hart. Pox of ceremony, you Dick! hey! God, knight, I'll tell you a story: one of our ambassadors in France, you, a devilish polite fellow reckoned, Dick; God, you, what does the king of France do, but, says he, I'll try the manners of this fine gentleman: so, knight, going into a coach together, the king would have my lord go first: oh! an't please your majesty, I can't indeed; you, hey, Dick! upon which, what does me the king, but he takes his arm thus, you, Dick: am I the king of France or you? is it my coach or yours? and so pushes him in thus. Hey, Dick!

Sir Greg. Good now, good now! he, he, he! Hart. God, Dick, I believe I have made a mistake here; I should have gone in first; hey, Dick! knight, God, you, beg pardon. Yes, your coach, not mine; your house, not mine; hey, knight! Sir Greg. Wonderful! a merry man, Mr. Jen

kins.

[Exeunt the two Knights and Jenk.] Tim. Father and cousin are gone, fath and soul! Jenny. I fancy my lover is a little puzzled how to begin. [Aside.]

Tim. How-Fath and soul I don't know what

to say! [Aside.] How d'ye do, Miss Suck? Jenny. Pretty well, thank you.

Tim. You have had a choice walk.-'Tis a rare

day, fath and soul!

Jenny. Yes, the day's well enough.

Tim. Is your house a good way off here?

C

Jenny.