Bayes. Ay, but I mean, what do you do when you write?
Smith. I take pen, ink, and paper, and sit down.
Bayes. Now I write standing; that's one thing; and then another thing is, with what do you prepare yourself?
Smith. Prepare myself! what the devil does the fool mean?
Bayes. Why, I'll tell you, now, what I do. If I am to write familiar things, as sonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use of stew'd prunes only: but, when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take physic, and let blood; for, when you would have pure swiftness of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, you must have a care of the pensive part. In fine, you must purge the stomach.
Smith. By my troth, sir, this is a most admirable receipt for writing.
Bayes. Ay, 'tis my secret; and, in good earnest, I think one of the best I have.
Smith. In good faith, sir, and that may very well be.
Bayes. May be, sir? Egad, I'm sure on't: Experto crede Roberto. But I must give you this caution by the way, be sure you never take snuff,[13] when you write.
Smith. Why so, sir?