Sir Har. You are a Person, Major, the Government ought to take notice of, I assure you—And d'you think a Man of your Character and Conversation qualify'd for a publick Post.
Bram. Certainly, Sir Harry, who makes a better Soldier than a Midnight-Scourer; who proves a sharper Judge than a Serjeant that takes Fees on both sides; or who thumps the Cushion better than he that has thumpt all the Wives i'the Parish; therefore that am acquainted with all you call Rogues i'the Kingdom, think my self notably qualify'd for a Custom-House-Officer—but whether the Government employs us, or not, my Companions are the happiest People i'the World; we meet ev'ry Day at a House within the Rules of the Fleet, where we have fat Venison, that's Stole out of Windsor-Park; French Wine, that's Run i'the Wild o' Kent; drink Confusion to our Arms, and talk Treason, till the Vintner crys, Huzza, Drawer bring in my Bottle. And there are of our Club, Four Broken-Officers, Six Suborning-Attorneys, a Disaffected-Cobler, Two Highway-Men, and Eleven Jacobite, Outlaw'd-Parsons.
Sir Har. If you are such an Enemy to your native Country, why don't you course the World, and please your self.
Bram. Thank you, Sir Harry, but tho' things don't go as I'd have them, of all Countries, I like England the best, for 'tis the only Kingdom in the World that suffers Faction; where one may write Libels, affront the Ministry, deride the Laws, and set the whole Nation together by the Ears— but whilst I am idle, mighty Matters are at a stand; in short, my Business here is to make my Addresses to Lady Rodomont, who having lately seen Italy and France, like a true Woman, is return'd with a most horrid Contempt of her own Country, and may like my Principles better than the flutt'ring Airs of you Town-Sparks—afterwards, Gentlemen, I shall be proud of both your Companies to dine in the Press-Yard, in Newgate, with sev'ral very ingenious Persons, that coin better than they do i'the Tower. [Exit.
Col. So, Lady Rodomont's the Cry—How Divine a Creature is a Woman that has Six thousand a Year; the Town's quite mad after her.
Sir Har. And such an Estate's enough to make her mad; Women are too sanguine for such mighty Fortune; Ten thousand Pounds touches a Lady's Brain, but when they prove great Heiresses, they're—
Col. Oh! stark Staring, Raving! and we ought to have the Custody of em.
Sir Har. Let's move towards the Court, Collonel, where we shall meet her sailing down the Mall, and the Fops after her, with all the Pride of a First-Rate Man of War, that's convoying a few petty Merchant-Ships to the West-Indies.
Enter Shrimp with a Letter.
Sir Har. [reads.] By the next return of the Waggon you will receive Master Totty, _who was nineteen Years last Grass, with a Box of _Shrewsbury-Cakes, and a Simnel: His Grand-Mother desires you will put him Clerk to some honest Attorney, if it be possible to find one, and the Child be fit for it, or to what else the Child shall be fit for; but if you find him fit for nothing, that you'll return him with great Care to his Grand-Mother again. He is free from ev'ry Vice, having always lain with his Grand-Mother, gone no where but to visit old Ladies with his Grand-Mother, and has never been out of his Grand-Mother's sight, since he was six Weeks old—What a Pox do the Women send me their Fool to educate, they may as well send me their Heads to dress; but I shall leave him to my Servant; a Town Valet's Tutor and Companion good enough for a Country 'Squire—Shrimp, go to the Saracen's-Head-Inn, enquire for Master Totty, a Man-Child, of nineteen Years of Age, and carry him to my Lodgings. [Exeunt.