winkey, all the time they ruins him. They kisses money out of the miser,
and sits in their satins, while the wife, 'drot her, sulks in a gingham.
Oh, they be cliver creturs, and they'll do what they likes with old Nick,
when they gets there, for 'tis the old gentlemen they cozens the best;
and then," continued the Corporal, waxing more and more loquacious, for
his appetite in talking grew with that it fed on,--"then there be another
set o' queer folks you'll see in Lunnon, Sir, that is, if you falls in
with 'em,--hang all together, quite in a clink. I seed lots on 'em when
lived with the Colonel--Colonel Dysart, you knows--augh?"

"And what are they?"

"Rum ones, your honour; what they calls Authors."

"Authors! what the deuce had you or the Colonel to do with Authors?"

"Augh! then, the Colonel was a very fine gentleman, what the larned calls
a my-seen-ass, wrote little songs himself, 'crossticks, you knows, your
honour: once he made a play--'cause why, he lived with an actress!"

"A very good reason, indeed, for emulating Shakespear; and did the play
succeed?"

"Fancy it did, your honour; for the Colonel was a dab with the scissors."

"Scissors! the pen, you mean?"

"No! that's what the dirty Authors make plays with; a Lord and a Colonel,
my-seen-asses, always takes the scissors."