introduced by him; when they came into his Excellency's House, the Porter,
who had dress'd himself in his great Coat, which was richly laced, and
having a good Wig, well powder'd, was coming down to take his Post; _Tom_
seeing the Richness of the Habit, fancied it was a Robe worn by Foreigners,
mistook the _Porter_ for the Embassador, and, making several low Bows,
began to address him with, _May it please your Excellency_. The Fellow
answered, Sir, if you'd speak with my Lord, I'll call one of his Gentlemen
to you; this raised a Laugh against him by his Companions, and _Tom_ walked
off defeated in his Vanity, tho' he would fain have laid the Mistake on a
sudden Absence of Thought, and asserted, that he had frequently conversed
with the Ambassador.

My old Friend, the Humourist, who is liberal of Talk in his Wine, I must
confess, sometimes lets his Vain-Glory bring his Discourse under some
Suspitions; especially, when upon the Strain of his Intimacy with King
_Charles_. He tells how that Prince, seeing him one Morning in the Park,
obliged him to take a Breakfast with him at _Whitehall_: As soon as they
were got into the Lodgings, the King called for _Kate_, meaning the Queen,
made her salute his Friend, and asked her how she could entertain them. The
Queen, he says, seeing a Stranger, made some little Hesitations: But at
last, _My Dear_, says she, _we have nothing but a Rib of cold Beef at
present, for yesterday, you know, was Washing-Day_. In short, he tells this
Story with so much Gravity, that you must either consent to believe it, or
be obliged to fight him, for suspecting the Truth of it.

* * * * *

Printed for W. BOREHAM, at the _Angel_ in _Pater-Noster-Row_, where
Advertisements and Letters from Correspondents are taken in.