Man for Five Shillings. Right.—A curious Shell for a Snuff-box, Two Guineas.—Bought of a poor Fisher-boy for a Half-penny. Now, if I had offer'd that Shell for Sixpence, no body would have bought it. Well, Thanks to the whimsical Extravagance and Folly of Mankind, I believe, from these childish Toys and gilded Baubles, I shall pick up a comfortable Maintenance. For, really, as it is a trifling Age, so Nothing but Trifles are valued in it. Men read none but trifling Authors, pursue none but trifling Amusements, and contend for none but trifling Opinions. A trifling Fellow is prefer'd, a trifling Woman admir'd. Nay, as if there were not real Trifles enow, they now make Trifles of the most serious and valuable Things. Their Time, their Health, their Money, their Reputation, are trifled away. Honestly is become a Trifle, Conscience a Trifle, Honour a mere Trifle, and Religion the greatest Trifle of all.

Enter the Gentleman and the two Ladies.

Mast. Sir, your humble Servant, I'm very glad to see you.

Gent. Sir, I am yours. I have brought you some Customers here.

Mast. You are very good, Sir. What do you please to want, Ladies?

1 La. Please to want! People seldom please to want any thing, Sir.

Mast. O dear Madam, yes; I always imagine when People come into a Toy-shop, it must be for something they please to want.

2 La. Here's a mighty pretty Looking Glass; Pray, Sir, what's the Price of it?

Mast. This Looking Glass, Madam, is the finest in all England. In this Glass a Coquet may see her Vanity, and a Prude her Hypocrisy. Some fine Ladies may see more Beauty than Modesty, more Airs than Graces, and more Wit than Good-nature.

1 La. [Aside.] He begins already.

Mast. If a Beau was to buy this Glass, and look earnestly in it, he might see his Folly almost as soon as his Finery. 'Tis true, some People may not see their Generosity in it, nor others their Charity, yet it is a very clear Glass. Some fine Gentlemen may not see their Good-manners in it perhaps, nor some Parsons their Religion, yet it is a very clear Glass. In short, tho' every one that passes for a Maid should not happen to see a Maidenhead in it, yet it may be a very clear Glass, you know, for all that.

2 La. Yes, Sir, but I did not ask you the Virtues of it, I ask'd you the Price.

Mast. It was necessary to tell you the Virtues, Madam, in order to prevent your scrupling the Price, which is five Guineas, and for so extraordinary a Glass, in my Opinion, it is but a Trifle.

2 La. Lord, I'm afraid to look in it, methinks, lest it should show me more of my Faults than I care to see.

1 La. Pray, Sir, what can be the Use of this very diminutive piece of Goods here?

Mast. This Box, Madam? In the first Place, it is a very great Curiosity, being the least Box that ever was seen in England.

1 La. Then a very little Curiosity had been more proper.

Mast. Right, Madam. Yet, would you think it, in this same little Box, a Courtier may deposite his Sincerity, a Lawyer may screw up his Honesty, and a Poet may——hoard his Money.

Gent. Ha, ha, ha, I will make a Present of it to Mr. Stanza for the very same Purpose.

2 La. Here's a fine Perspective. Now, I think, Madam, in the Country these are a very pretty Amusement.

Mast. O, Madam, the most useful and diverting things imaginable either in Town or Country. The Nature of this Glass, Madam, (pardon my impertinence in pretending to tell you what to be sure you are as well acquainted with as myself) is this. If you look thro' it at this end every Object is magnified, brought near, and discern'd with the greatest Plainness; but turn it the other way, do ye see, and they are all lessen'd, cast at a great Distance, and rendered almost imperceptible. Thro' this End it is that we look at our own Faults, but when other People's are to be examined, we are ready enough to turn the other. Thro' this End are view'd all the Benefits and Advantages we at any time receive from others; but if ever we happen to confer any, they are sure to be shown in their greatest Magnitude thro' the other. Thro' this we enviously darken and contract the Virtue, the Merit, the Beauty of all the World around us; but fondly Compliment our own with the most agreeable and advantageous Light thro' the other.

2 La. Why, Sir, methinks you are a new Kind of a Satirical Parson, your Shop is your Scripture, and every piece of Goods a different Text, from which you expose the Vices and Follies of Mankind in a very fine allegorical Sermon.

Mast. Right, Madam, right; I thank you for the Simile. I may be call'd a Parson indeed, and am a very good one in my way. I take delight in my Calling, and am never better pleased than to see a full Congregation. Yet it happens to me as it does to most of my Brethren, People sometimes vouchsafe to take home the Text perhaps, but mind the Sermon no more than if they had not heard one.

1 La. Why, Sir, when a short Text has more in it than a long Sermon, it's no wonder if they do.

Enter a third Lady.

3 Lady. Pray, Sir, let me look at some of your little Dogs.

2 La. [Aside.] Little Dogs! My Stars! How cheaply some People are entertain'd! Well, it's a Sign human Conversation is grown very low and insipid, whilst that of Dogs and Monkeys is preferr'd to it.

Mast. Here are very beautiful Dogs, Madam, these Dogs when they were alive were some of them the greatest Dogs of their Age. I don't mean the largest, but Dogs of the greatest Quality and Merit.

1 La. I love a Dog of Merit dearly; has not he a Dog of Honour too, I wonder? [Aside.]

Mast. Here's a Dog now that never eat but upon Plate or China, nor set his Foot but upon a Carpet or a Cushion. Here's one too, this Dog belong'd to a Lady of as great Beauty and Fortune as any in England; he was her most intimate Friend and particular Favourite; and upon that Account has receiv'd more Compliments, more Respect, and more Addresses than a First Minister of State. Here's another which was, doubtless, a Dog of singular Worth and great Importance; since at his Death one of the greatest Families in the Kingdom were all in Tears, receiv'd no Visits for the space of a Week, but shut themselves up and mourn'd their Loss with inconsolable Sorrow. This Dog while he liv'd, either for Contempt of his Person, neglect of his Business, or saucy impertinent Behaviours in their Attendance on him, had the Honour of turning away upwards of thirty Servants. He died at last of a Cold caught by following one of the Maids into a damp Room, for which she lost her Place, her Wages, and her Character.

3 Lady. O the careless wicked Wretch! I would have had her try'd for Murder at least. That, that is just my Case! The sad Relation revives my Grief so strongly I cannot contain. Lucy, bring in the Box.1 O I have lost the dearest Friend in the World! See! see the charming Creature, here, lies dead! Its precious Life is gone! Oh, my dear Chloe! no more wilt thou lie hugg'd in my warm Bosom! no more will that sweet Tongue lick o'er my Face, nor that dear Mouth eat dainty Bits from mine. O, Death, what hast thou robb'd me of?

Gent. [Aside.] A proper Object to display your Folly.

Mast. Pray, Madam, moderate your Grief; you ought to thank Heaven 'tis not your Husband.

3 La. Oh, what is Husband, Father, Mother, Son, to my dear, precious Chloe!——No, no, I cannot live without the Sight of his dear Image; and if you cannot make me the exact Effigies of this poor dead Creature, and cover it with his own dear Skin, so nicely that