Y. Book. Here, here, Jack, take it.
Lat. Let's come nearer the lamp. This is the foul copy of it that 'tis wrapped in. Let me judge. Now I'll be sedate. Let me read it again.
Y. Book. But you look cursedly fluttered; they'll say you're drunk. Let's see, I must comb your wig a little.
Lat. I shall be kicked for this letter here about the middle. You should not talk of joys so soon; you should write miserable a fortnight or three weeks longer—I shall be kicked.
Y. Book. What then? what then? A man of your philosophy must needs remember, the body's but the mere organ of the mind. Kicks come under the topic of things without. What shall I do for powder for this smart bob? [Combs out his own wig into Lat's.
Lat. 'Tis no matter, sir; powder comes under the notion of things without.
Y. Book. Oh! but ladies are no philosophers; but as to being drubbed (these stockings too), you must fix your imagination upon some other object, and you may, by force of thought, suspend your feeling. The body is but the instrument of the mind, and you may command an instrument.
Lat. No, sir, I'll have you to know, I'll save my carcass by mere dint of eloquence. You have no other orders?
Y. Book. No; but may persuasion, grace, and elocution hang on thy lips. But if you can come in to Victoria, she and the wine you've drank will inspire you. Farewell. [Exit.
Lat. This is the enchanted castle which the lady fair inhabits. Ha! Mr. Simon, sir, I am your most humble servant. My dear friend——