“It must only have been in sport, sir,” said Boswell mildly.
“Sir, Dr. Goldsmith may have earned reprobation,” cried Johnson, “but he has been guilty of nothing so heinous as to deserve the punishment of having you as his advocate.”
“Oh, sir, surely Mr. Boswell is the best one in the world to pronounce an opinion as to what was said in sport, and what in earnest,” said Goldsmith. “His fine sense of humour——”
“Sir, have you seen the picture which he got painted of himself on his return from Corsica?” shouted Johnson.
“Gentlemen, these diversions may be well enough for you,” said Garrick, “but in my ears they sound as the jests of the crowd must in the ears of a wretch on his way to Tyburn. Think, sirs, of the position occupied by Mr. Burke and myself at the present moment. Are we to be branded as outcasts because we happen to be actors?”
“Undoubtedly you at least are, Davy,” cried Johnson. “And good enough for you too, you rascal!”
“And, for my part, I would rather be an outcast with David Garrick than become chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury,” said Goldsmith.
“Dr. Goldsmith, let me tell you that it is unbecoming in you, who have relations in the church, to make such an assertion,” said Johnson sternly. “What, sir, does friendship occupy a place before religion, in your estimation?”
“The Archbishop could easily get another chaplain, sir, but whither could the stage look for another Garrick?” said Goldsmith.
“Psha! Sir, the puppets which we saw last week in Panton street delighted the town more than ever Mr. Garrick did,” cried Johnson; and when he perceived that Garrick coloured at this sally of his, he lay back in his chair and roared with laughter.