had a corporation cruft in my mouth for these fix months: You might as well expect a minister of state at the Manfion-Houfe, as fee me at one of their feafts Fillup. His honour tells nothing but truth. Sir Chr. So that I am almost famished, as well as forfaken. Fillup. Quite famifhed, as a body may zay, mefter. Sir Chr. Oh, Tom, Tom, you have been a curfed acquaintance to me! what a number of fine turtles and fat haunches of venifon has your wickedness loft me! Rack. My dear Sir Kit, for this I merit your thanks: How often Dr. Carawitchet has told you, rich food and champaigne would produce you nothing but poor health and real pain? Sir Chr. What fignifies the prattle of fuch a punning puppy as he? what, I fuppofe, you would ftarve me, you fcoundrel! When I am got out of one fit, how the devil am I to gather ftrength to encounter the next? Do you think it is to be done by fipping and flopping? [drinks] But no matter! Look you, major Rackett, all between us is now at an end; and, Sir, I should confider it as a particular favour if you would take no further notice of me: I fincerely defire to drop your acquaintance; and, as to myself, I am fixed, pofitively fixed, to reform. Rack. Reform? Ha, ha, ha! Sir Chr. Reform! and why not? Well! you fhall fee the whole city fhall fee! As foon as ever I get to my lodgings, I will fend for Luke Lattitat and Codicil, and make a handfome bequeft to the hofpital. Rack. Stuff! Sir Chr. Then I am refolved to be carried every day to the twelve o'clock prayers, at the Abby, and regularly twice on a Sunday. Rack. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Sir Chr. Ha, ha, ha! you may laugh; but I'll be damn'd if I don't! and if all this don't recover my credit, I am determined, befides, to hire a house in Harlequin-Row, and be a conftant hearer at the countefs's chapel Rack. And fo, perhaps, turn out a fieldpreacher in time. Sir Chr. I don't know but I may. Rack. Well then, my dear Sir Christopher, adieu! But, if we muft part, let us part as friends should; not with dry lips, and in anger. Fillup, take care of the knight. [Fillup fills the glaffes.] Well, faith, my old crony, I can't fay but I am heartly forry to lofe you; many a brave batch have we broached in our time. Sir Chr. True, Tom, true. Rack. Don't you remember the bout we had at the Tuns, in the days of Plump Jack? I fhall never forget! After you had felled poor Falstaff with a pint bumper of burgundy, how. you beftrode the proftrate hero, and in his own manner cried, "Crown me, ye spirits that de"light in gen'rous wine!" Sir Chr. Vanity, mere vanity, Tom, nothing but vanity! Rack. And then another day at the-But replenish, Fillup! the bowl is not empty? Sir Chr. Enough, enough! Rack. What, don't flinch, man! it is but to finish the bowl.-Come, Sir Chriftopher, one tender squeeze! Sir Chr. Take care of my hand! none of your old tricks, you young dog. Rack. Rick. Gentle as the lick of a lap-dog; there!What o'clock is it, Fillup? Fillup. I'll tell you, mefter [looks at his watch]. Juft turned a fix. Rack. So foon? Hang it, Sir Kit, it is too early to part. Come, what say you to one fupper more? but one, by way of facrifice to the facred feelings of friendship? Honeft Fillup knows your tafte; he will tofs you up a Sir Chr. Not a morfel, Tom, if you would give me the univerfe! Rack. Pho, man! only a Sandwich or fo. Fillup, what haft got in the house? Fillup. A vamous John Dorey, two pair of foals, and there be a joint of Landsdown mutton; and then, you do know, my Molly be vainous in making marrow-puddens. Rack. A fine bill of fare.-Come, knight, what do you choose? Sir Chr. Me! why you feem to have forgot what I told you juft now. Rack. Your defign to reform? not at all; and I think you quite right; perfectly fo, as I hope to be faved: But what needs all this hurry? tomorrow is a new day; it will then be early enough. Fillup, fend us in just what you will. -- Sir Chr. You are a coaxing, cajoling young dog. Well, if it must be fo, Fillup, it muft. Fillup, get me an anchovy-toaft; and, do you hear a red herring or two, for my ftomach is damnably weak. Fillup. I fhall be zure, zur. [Exit. Rack. So that's fettled.-Now, Poultice! Come forward. Well, my blades, and what news have you got stirring amongst you? Poul, Except a little run of fore throats about the the beginning of autumn, and a few feeble fellows that dropt off with the leaves in October, the town is in tolerable Rack. Pox of the dead and the dying! but what amusements have you got for the living? Poul. There is the new playhouse, you know. Rack. True: But as to the mufical world; what hopes have we there? any of the opera people among you? Apropos-what is become of my little flame, La petite Rafignole, the lively little Linnet? is fhe ftill Sir Chr, Loft, totally loft! Rack. Loft! what, left you? I am forry for that. Sir Chr. Worfe, worfe! Rack. I hope fhe an't dead. Sir Chr. Ten thousand times worse than all that! Sir Chr. Just going to be buried alive-to be married. Rack. Pho! is that all? The ceremony was, indeed, formerly looked upon as a kind of metaphorical grave; but the fyftem is changed, and marriage is now confidered as an entrance to a new and better kind of life. Sir Chr. Indeed! Rack. Pfhaw! who talks now of the drudgery of domestic duties, of nuptial chains, and of bonds? mere obfolete words! they did well enough in the dull days of queen Befs; but a modern lass puts on fetters to enjoy. the more freedom, and pledges her faith to one, that she may be at liberty to bestow her favours on all, - Sir Chr. What vaft improvements are daily made in our morals! what an unfortunate dog am I, to come into the world at least half a cen tury tury too foon! what would I give to be born twenty years hence! there will be damned fine doings then! hey, Tom? But I'm afraid our poor little girl won't have it in her power to profit by these prodigious improvements. Rack. Why not? Sir Chr. Oh, when you once hear the name of her partner Rack. Who is it? Sir Chr. An acquaintance of yours: Only that old fufty, fhabby, fhuffling, money-loving, water-drinking, mirth-marring, amorous old hunks, master Solomon Flint. Rack. He that enjoys-owns, I mean-half the farms in the country? Sir Chr. He, even he. Rack. Why, he is fixty at leaft: What a filthy old goat! But then, how does this defign suit with his avarice? the girl has no fortune. Sir Chr. No more than what her talents will give her. Rack. Why, the poltroon does not mean to profit by them? Sir Chr. Perhaps, if his family fhould chance to encrease: But I believe his main motive is the hopes of an heir. Rack. For which he muft be indebted to fome of his neighbours: In that point of light, the matter is not fo much amifs. It is impoffible she can be fond of the fellow; and it is very hard, with the opportunities this place will afford, if, in less than a month, I don't Sir Chr. This place! why, you don't suppose he'll truft her here for an hour? Rack. How! Sir Chr. Not a moment: The fcheme is all fettled; |