Unerring truths, 'tis schism,—a damned offence,— }
To question his, or trust your private sense. }
"Ha! is not that right, Mr Johnson?—Gad forgive me, he is fast asleep! Oh the damned stupidity of this age! Asleep!—Well, sir, since you're so drowsy, your humble servant.
John. Nay, pray, Mr Bayes! Faith, I heard you all the while.—The white mouse——
Bayes. The white mouse! Ay, ay, I thought how you heard me. Your servant, sir, your servant.
John. Nay, dear Bayes: Faith, I beg thy pardon, I was up late last night. Prithee, lend me a little snuff, and go on.
Bayes. Go on! Pox, I don't know where I was.—Well, I'll begin. Here, mind, now they are both come to town. [Reads.]
But now at Piccadilly they arrive,
And, taking coach, t'wards Temple-Bar they drive;
But, at St Clement's church, eat out the back,