“Darby.—I’m glad to know you, High and Mighty Sir;
Think you your pompous empty Name could stir
My Choler? No, your Title makes me fear
As much as if you’d been Six Shilling Beer.
Claret.—Thou Son of Earth, thou dull insipid thing,
To level me, who am of Liquors King,
With lean Small Beer, but that thou art not worth
My Anger, else I’de frown thee into Earth.
Darby.—I neither fear your Frown, nor court your Smile;
But, if I’m not mistaken all this while,