well.

Mine, you may imagine, was easily done—but when it came to the Baron—

Ay, ay.

Our modern Cato soon lost his coolness and courage, screw'd his nose up to his foretop, rapp'd out a dozen oaths in high Dutch, limp'd away to his lodgings, and was there laid up for a month—Ha, ha, ha!

"Sir Gregory Goose desires the honour of Sir Luke Limp's company to dine. An answer is desired." Gadso! a little unlucky; I have been engag'd for these three weeks.

What, I find Sir Gregory is return'd for the corporation of Fleesum.

Is he so? Oh ho!—That alters the case.—George, give my compliments to Sir Gregory, and I'll certainly come and dine there. Order Joe to run to alderman Inkle's, in Threadneedle-street; sorry can't wait upon him, but confin'd to bed two days with new influenza.

You make light, Sir Luke, of these sort of engagements.

What can a man do? These damn'd fellows (when one has the misfortune to meet them) take scandalous advantage; teaze, When will you do me the honour, pray, Sir Luke, to take a bit of mutton with me? Do you name the day—They are as bad as a beggar, who attacks your coach at the mounting of a hill; there is no getting rid of them, without a penny to one, and a promise to t'other.

True; and then for such a time too—three weeks! I wonder they expect folks to remember. It is like a retainer in Michaelmas term for the summer assizes.

Not but, upon these occasions, no man in England is more punctual than——

From whom?

Earl of Brentford. The servant waits for an answer.

Answer!—By your leave, Mr. Serjeant and Charlot. [Reads.] "Taste for music—Mons. Duport—fail—Dinner upon table at five"—Gadso! I hope Sir Gregory's servant an't gone.

Immediately upon receiving the answer.

Run after him as fast as you can—tell him, quite in despair—recollect an engagement that can't in nature be missed,—and return in an instant.

You see, Sir, the Knight must give way for my Lord.

No, faith, it is not that, my dear Charlot; you saw that was quite an extempore business.—No, hang it, no, it is not for the title; but to tell you the truth, Brentford has more wit than any man in the world; it is that makes me fond of his house.

By the choice of his company he gives an unanswerable instance of that.

You are right, my dear girl. But now to give you a proof of his wit: You know Brentford's finances are a little out of repair, which procures him some visits that he would very gladly excuse.

What need he