Snarle. Yes, I have read it.
Smart. It is a very odd Title, a Bone for the Lawyers; who is the Author, pray? Is it known?
Snarle. Why Macklin gives out that some Gentleman, a Friend of his, has made him a Present of it, but I shrewdly suspect it to be his own.
Rattle. Whose! Macklin's?
Snarle. Ay!
Rattle. Why, can he write?
Snarle. Write? Ay, and damnably too, I assure you, ha! ha! He writ a Tragedy this Winter, but so merry a Tragedy was never seen since the first night of Tom Thumb the Great.
Smart. I was at it and a merry Tragedy it was and a merry Audience!
Snarle. I never laughed so heartily at a Play in my Life; if his Farce has half so much Fun in it as his Tragedy had, I'll engage it succeeds.
Smart. Come, come. There was some tolerable Things in his Tragedy.