Part 21 (1/2)

_Sir Pat._ Poo, poo! That's foolish now. Why what has a Stage Play to do with Reason and Probability? If a Tragedy makes you laugh and a Comedy makes you cry, as Mr. Heartly said just now, what would you have more?

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Sir Pat._ And as to the young Lady's going home a Foot, that is easily answered. You are to suppose it was a rainy Night and that she walked home to save Chair hire, because there was never a Coach to be had.

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Sir Pat._ I am sure it is very natural to walk. I have done so a hundred times.

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Trif._ My dear Sir Patrick, give me your Hand! Thou art the top Critick of the Age, let me perish.

_Nib._ Ignorant Wretches!

_Cank._ Was ever Man so tortured with such Fools! (_Aside_)--I hope, Mr. Heartly, you will not offer to vindicate the Dialogue. There is not one Attempt to Wit all through the Play, but that about the Gravestone; the Characters all speak like People in common Conversation.

_Heart._ I thought that was a Beauty, Mr. Canker.

_Cank._ Yes just as barrenness is in Land. Don't you see, Sir, what Whicherly and Congreve have done in their Comedies?

_Heart._ Yes Sir, and I know what their Masters, Terence, Plautus, Moliere, and our own Johnson have done, who thought themselves most excellent in their Dialogue when they could make their Characters speak, not what was most witty, but what was most proper to Time, Place, Character, and Circ.u.mstance.

_Lady._ Upon my Word, Mr. Heartly, you are a very accurate Critick, and I am entirely of your Judgment.

_Cank._ Well, but allowing it all [it] deserves, why must it be praised so very much?

_Heart._ Because, Sir, Praise is the food, and too often the only Reward of Merit; and none deny it but the ill natured and the envious.

_Cank._ And none give it but the Ignorant or the Fulsome.

_Heart._ Sir, that is not very Complaisant--pray Sir, who do you mean by the Ignorant?

_Trif._ Ay, Sir, who is't you mean?

_Sir Pat._ Ay, Sir, who do you mean? I hope you don't mean me.

_Cank._ You, and all of you who like this Piece--You are Men, Fops in Understanding, catch your Judgments from each other as you do your Dress, not because they are right, but that they are the Fas.h.i.+on, _and you make as ridiculous a Figure in Criticism as an Ape in human Cloathing_.

_Lady._ Give me leave to tell you, Mr. Canker, that you want Politeness.

_Cank._ Madam, I am sorry your Ladys.h.i.+p obliges me to tell you that you want Judgment.

_Lady._ Not to see into you, Sir--Your Envy shall never be rude or troublesome to any of my Family again, I a.s.sure you, Sir.

_Cank._ Nor shall your Ignorance or your Niece's ever be troublesome to me again; I would as soon Match into a Family of Hottentots.

_Lady._ O mighty well, Sir!--Harriet, I desire you will never think of Mr. Canker more.

_Har._ I shall obey your Commands, Madam.