Will. Oh, Sir, 'twas done to please a brace of Reverend Justices that were Stewards of the Feast—and such frolicks as these, Lord Sir, you cannot imagin how they digest Venson, Pasty Pudding Crust—There are some people so hot, that you would admire they do not melt their Grease, and get the Scratches with Galloping after such fancies as these.
Ralph. And yet when this Tallow-chandler serv'd Mr. Hamden with Candles, he did not scruple to take his Money, notwithstanding he might not then be of his severe Judges present opinion: And therefore there is some hope yet left, that Mr. Hamden may sweeten up his Judge into a Reprieve, upon a promise of laying in his Winter store out of Bloomsbury.
Will. There was an Apothecary too, whose spleen was extreamly tickl'd at the conceit of their design. Repute makes him a person of a bulky stature, famous for the beauty of his Wainscot Lady, and the wit of his Son, whom he teaches to curse the D. of M.
Ralph. Why truly, this Pothecary is highly to be applauded for his Loyalty: for to shew the Exquisiteness of his Allegiance, he sends his child to the Devil to confirm it.
Will. There were several others that met at two or three of these consults, that have open'd their Purses to save their Reputation.
Ralph. I am not apt to believe that people who concerned themselves with such a ridiculous Sham as this, had much Reputation to lose; and therefore their Peter-Pence were ill bestow'd. The Proverb is, Discover, and shame the Devil.
Will. That never could be better don then by the Dress with which they disguis'd him: For certainly all the Fools and Zanies in Bartholomew-Fair were never so quaintly rigg'd, as this same Hob-thrush of a Vintner was equipped to act his Tragick-Comedy.
Ralph. As how?
Will. First they hung about his Neck a large Night-Rail, which the Gentlewoman of the House lent him out of her Zeal.