Goldsmith. [Starting up.] Which of the knaves did you talk into giving sixteen guineas for that poor tale? I would never have believed it!
Dr. Johnson. To be sure, sir, it would have been another story had you carried your wares to market yourself, for the booksellers have but an ill opinion of you at present. But there was no fear that any one of them would venture to say me nay, or waste words in cheapening what I chose to recommend. [Impressively.] Mr. Newbery, your former publisher, has been pleased to purchase the work which you intrusted to me, and to send you a remuneration of sixty guineas.
Goldsmith. Sixty guineas! [Sinks back on his chair in astonishment.] Dick, lad, do you hear that? You shall have the finest jack-knife in all Cheapside, my boy, and Margery a new bonnet with flowered ribbons on it, for she was always sorry for me when pence were hard to come by. And I [rising and strutting up and down] shall be all the better myself for a little smartening. I'll have another look at that marvelous pretty plum-colored velvet I saw in Filby's shop last week. He'll be sure to trust me for it if I pay something on the old bill, and—[Stops short, as Dr. Johnson raps violently on the floor with his stick.]
Dr. Johnson. [Shaking his head solemnly.] Nay, sir, a spendthrift you were born, but an honest man I'll make you, if this money [holding up a large leather purse] will discharge your outstanding accounts. There shall be no plum-colored velvets, I promise you, until justice is done. But [observing the downcast looks of the children] you, my little mistress, shall not be deprived of your finery, nor the lad of his promised toy.
Goldsmith. [Plucking up courage.] Then, Doctor, you'll not leave me without a penny, like Simple Simon in the old rime? Sure, no tradesman will trust me with his wares, either.
Dr. Johnson. [Firmly.] And quite right too, sir. But to leave you four and forty pounds in your present state of mind would be sheer madness. Steady your wits, sir, by making a fair copy of your debts, to show me at five, when Miss Williams shall give you a slice of mutton in the Temple. On your solemn assurance that your creditors shall be satisfied without delay, the balance shall be yours, though it will be wasted on folly, I make no doubt. I have the honor to wish you good day, sir. [Claps his hat on, seizes his stick, and marches out, stopping a moment to pat Margery's curls as she curtseys to him.]
Goldsmith. [With a sigh of relief.] Ah, well! It's an ill wind that blows nobody good. Things looked black enough an hour since, and now, Margery, you'll be monstrous fine in a new bonnet, and Dick the cock of the court with his jack-knife. And I—I'll manage to get that plum-colored velvet—with a taffeta lining, too—or my name's not Oliver Goldsmith!
[Children clap their hands in delight; Landlady shakes her head at Goldsmith disapprovingly.]
