F. B.-Oh, yes!
Mr. M.-Nay, I have often told him he does not know his own strength, or he would write a comedy, and so I think.
Dr. J. (laughing)—Suppose Burney and I begin together?
Mr. M.-Ah, I wish you would! I wish you would Beaumont and Fletcher us!
F.B.-My father asked me, this morning, how my head stood. If he should have asked me this evening, I don't know what answer I must have made.
Mr. M.-I have no wish to turn anybody's head: I speak what I really think;—comedy is the forte of that book. I laughed over it most violently: and if the author—I won't say who [all the time looking away from me]—will write a comedy I will most readily, and with great pleasure, give any advice or assistance in my power.
“Well, now you are a sweet man!” cried Mrs. Thrale, who looked ready to kiss him. “Did not I tell you, Miss Burney, that Mr. Murphy was the man?”
Mr. M.-All I can do, I shall be very happy to do; and at least I will undertake to say I can tell what the sovereigns of the upper gallery will bear: for they are the most formidable part of an audience. I have had so much experience in this sort of work, that I believe I can always tell what will be hissed at least. And if Miss Burney will write, and will show me—
Dr. J.-Come, come, have done with this now; why should you overpower her? Let's have no more of it. I don't mean to dissent from what you say; I think well of it, and approve of it; but you have said enough of it.
Mr. Murphy, who equally loves and reverences Dr. Johnson, instantly changed the subject.