Volume Ii Part 52 (2/2)

Sir _Anth_. As I take it, you came from Church too.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, needs must when the Devil drives. I go to save my Bacon, as they say, once a Month, and that too after the Porridge is serv'd up.

Sir _Anth_. Those that made it, Sir, are wiser than we. For my part, I love good wholesom Doctrine, that teaches Obedience to the King and Superiors, without railing at the Government, and quoting Scripture for Sedition, Mutiny and Rebellion. Why here was a jolly Fellow this Morning made a notable Sermon. By George, our Country-Vicars are mere Scholars to your Gentlemen Town-Parsons! Hah, how he handled the Text, and run Divisions upon't! 'twould make a Man sin with moderation, to hear how he claw'd away the Vices of the Town, Whoring, Drinking, and Conventicling, with the rest of the deadly number.

Sir _Tim_. Good lack! an he were so good at Whoring and Drinking, you'd best carry your Nephew, Sir _Charles Meriwill_, to Church; he wants a little doc.u.mentizing that way.

Sir _Anth_. Hum! you keep your old wont still; a Man can begin no Discourse to you, be it of Prester John, but you still conclude with my Nephew.

Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Sir Anthony, you need not be so purty; what I say, is the Discourse of the whole City, how lavishly you let him live, and give ill Examples to all young Heirs.

Sir _Anth_. The City! The City's a grumbling, lying, dissatisfy'd City, and no wise or honest Man regards what it says. Do you, or any of the City, stand bound to his Scrivener or Taylor? He spends what I allow him, Sir, his own; and you're a Fool, or Knave, chuse ye whether, to concern your self.

Sir _Tim_. Good lack! I speak but what wiser Men discourse.

Sir _Anth_. Wiser Men! wiser c.o.xcombs. What, they wou'd have me train my Nephew up, a hopeful Youth, to keep a Merchant's Book, or send him to chop Logick in an University, and have him returned an arrant learned a.s.s, to simper, and look demure, and start at Oaths and Wenches, whilst I fell his Woods, and grant Leases: And lastly, to make good what I have cozen'd him of, force him to marry Mrs. Crump, the ill-favour'd Daughter of some Right Wors.h.i.+pful.--A Pox of all of such Guardians!

Sir _Tim_. Do, countenance Sin and Expenccs, do.

Sir _Anth_. What Sin, what Expences? He wears good Clothes, why, Trades-men get the more by him; he keeps his Coach, 'tis for his Ease; A Mistress, 'tis for his Pleasure; he games, 'tis for his Diversion: And where's the harm of this? is there ought else you can accuse him with?

Sir _Tim_. Yes,--a Pox upon him, he's my Rival too. [_Aside_.

Why then I'll tell you, Sir, he loves a Lady.

Sir _Anth_. If that be a Sin, Heaven help the Wicked!

Sir _Tim_. But I mean honourably--

Sir _Anth_. Honourably! why do you know any Infirmity in him, why he shou'd not marry? [_Angrily_.

Sir _Tim_. Not I, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. Not you, Sir? why then you're an a.s.s, Sir--But is this Lady young and handsom?

Sir _Tim_. Ay, and rich too, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. No matter for Money, so she love the Boy.

Sir _Tim_. Love him! No, Sir, she neither does, nor shall love him.

Sir _Anth_. How, Sir, nor shall love him! By _George_, but she shall, and lie with him too, if I please, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. How, Sir! lie with a rich City-Widow, and a Lady, and to be married to a fine Reverend old Gentleman within a day or two?

Sir _Anth_. His Name, Sir, his Name; I'll dispatch him presently.

[_Offers to draw_.

Sir _Tim_. How, Sir, dispatch him!--Your Servant, Sir.

[_Offers to go_.

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