Esop. Well, good People, who are all you?
Omnes. Sir, we are Players.
Esop. Players! What Players?
Play. Why, Sir, we are Stage-Players, that's our Calling: Tho' we play upon other Things too; some of us play upon the Fiddle; some play upon the Flute; we play upon one another; we play upon the Town; and we play upon the Patentees.
Esop. Patentees! Pr'ythee, what are they?
Play. Why, they are, Sir——Sir, they are——'Cod I don't know what they are——Fish or Flesh——Masters or Servants——Sometimes one——Sometimes t'other, I think——Just as we are in the Mood.
Esop. Why, I thought they had a lawful Authority over you.
Play. Lawful Authority, Sir!—--Sir, we are free-born Englishmen, we care not for Law nor Authority neither, when we are out of Humour.
Esop. But I think they pretended at least to an Authority over you; pray, upon what Foundation was it built?
Play. Upon a rotten one——if you'll believe us. Sir, I'll tell you what the Projectors did: They imbark'd twenty thousand Pound upon a leaky Vessel——She was built at Whitehall; I think they call'd her——the Patent——ay, the Patent: Her Keel was made of a Broad Seal——and the King gave 'em a white Staff for their Main-Mast. She was a pretty light Frigate to look upon, indeed: They spar'd nothing to set her off; they gilded her, and painted her, and rigg'd, and gunn'd her: And so sent her a Privateering. But the first Storm that blew, down went the Mast, ashore went the Ship—Crack, says the Keel; Mercy, cry'd the Pilot; but the Wind was so high, his Pray'rs cou'd not be heard—so they split upon a Rock——that lay hid under a Petticoat.