extempore at Mrs. Drowzie's conversazione--Come now your first
is the Name of a Fish, your second a great naval commander--and

SIR BENJAMIN. Dear Uncle--now--prithee----

CRABTREE. Efaith, Ma'am--'twould surprise you to hear how ready
he is at all these Things.

LADY SNEERWELL. I wonder Sir Benjamin you never publish anything.

SIR BENJAMIN. To say truth, Ma'am, 'tis very vulgar to Print and
as my little Productions are mostly Satires and Lampoons I find
they circulate more by giving copies in confidence to the Friends
of the Parties--however I have some love-Elegies, which, when
favoured with this lady's smile I mean to give to the Public.
[Pointing to MARIA.]

CRABTREE. 'Fore Heaven, ma'am, they'll immortalize you--you'll
be handed down to Posterity, like Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's
Sacharissa.

SIR BENJAMIN. Yes Madam I think you will like them--when you shall
see in a beautiful Quarto Page how a neat rivulet of Text shall
meander thro' a meadow of margin--'fore Gad, they will be the most
elegant Things of their kind--

CRABTREE. But Ladies, have you heard the news?

MRS. CANDOUR. What, Sir, do you mean the Report of----