Sir R. I tell you I don't. I only love to hear men's arguments. I hate their flummery.
Hum. What do you call flummery?
Sir R. Flattery, blockhead! a dish too often served up by paltry poor men to paltry rich ones.
Hum. I never serve it up to you.
Sir R. No, you give me a dish of a different description.
Hum. Hem! what is it?
Sir R. Sauerkraut, you old crab
Hum. I have held you a stout tug at argument this many a year.
Sir R. And yet I could never teach you a syllogism. Now mind, when a poor man assents to what a rich man says, I suspect he means to flatter him: now I am rich, and hate flattery. Ergo—when a poor man subscribes to my opinion, I hate him.
Hum. That's wrong.