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parent misery you are so afraid of death, which would be your only cure. Old Man. -Oh, Lord! I have one friend, and a true friend indeed, the only friend in whom a wise man places any con fidence-I have-get a little farther off, John[Servant retires.]'I have to say, the truth, a little moneyit is that indeed, which causes all my uneasiness.

Esop. Thou never spok'st a truer word in thy life, old gentleman-Aside.] But I can cure you of your uneasiness immediately..

Old Man. Shall I forget then that I am to die, and leave my money behind me?

Esop. No, but you shall forget that you have it.. which will do altogether as well-One large draught of Lethe, to the forgetfulness of your money, will restore you to perfect ease of mind; and as for your bodily pains, nowater can relieve them.

Old Man. What does he say, John-eh ?—I am hard of hearing.

John. He advices your worship to drink to forget your

money.

Old Man. What!-what!- will his drink get me money, does he say?

Esop. No, Sir, the waters are of a wholesome nature— for they'll teach you to forget your money.

Old Man. Will they so?-Come, come, John, we are got to the wrong place-The poor old fool here does not knew what he says-Let us go back again, John—I'll drink none of your waters; not I -Forget my money! Come along, John. [Exeunt.

Esop. Was there ever such a wretch! If these are the cares of mortals, the waters of oblivion cannot cure them,

Re-enter OLD MAN and SERVANT.

so I don't -Let me see-ay And my

Old Man. Lookee, Sir, I am come a great way, and am loth to refuse favours that cost nothingcare if I drink a little of your waters-I'll drink to forget how I got my moneyservant there, he shall drink a little, to forget that I have any money at all-and, d'ye hear, John- -take a hearty draught. If my money must be forgot, why e'en let him forget it.

Esop. Well, friend, it shall be as you would have it

You'll

You'll find a seat in that grove yonder, where you may rest yourself till the waters are distributed.

Old Man. I hope it won't be long, Sir, for thieves are busy now-and I have an iron chest in the other world, that I should be sorry any body peep'd into but myselfSo pray be quick, Sir. [Exeunt.

Esop. Patience, patience, old gentleman.But here comes something tripping this way, that seems so be neither man nor woman, and yet an odd mixture of both.

Enter a FINE GENTLEMAN.

Fine Gent. Harkee, old friend, do you stand drawer here? Esop. Drawer, young fop! do you know where you are, and who you talk to?

Fine Gent. Not I dem me! But 'tis a rule with me, wherever I am, or whosoever I am with, to be always easy and familiar.

Esop Then let me advice you, young gentleman, to drink the waters, and forget that ease and familiarity.

Fine Gent. Why so, daddy? would you not have me well-bred?

Esop. Yes; but you may not always meet with people so polite as yourself, or so passive as I am; and if what you call breeding, should be constru'd impertinence, you × may have a return of familiarity, may make you repent your education as long as you live.

Fine Gent. Well said, old dry-beard; egad you have a smattering of an odd kind of asort of humour; but come, come, prithee give me a glass of your waters, and keep your advice to yourself.

Esob. I must first be inform'd, Sir, for what purpose you drink 'em.

Fine Gent. You must know, philosopher, I want to for-get two qualities--My modesty, and my good-nature. Fsop. Your modesty and good-nature?

Fine Gent. Yes, Sir-I have such a consummate modesty, that when a fine woman (which is often the case) yields to my addresses, egad I run away from her; and ain so very good-natured, that when a man affronts me, egad I run-a

way too.

Fsop. As for your modesty, Sir, I'm afraid you are come to the wrong waters--and if you would take a large cup

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to the forgetfulness of your fears, your good-nature, I believe, will trouble you no more.

Fine Gent. And this is your advice, my dear, eh.

Esop. My advice, Sir, would go a great deal farther I should advise you to drink to the forgetfulness of every thing you know.

Fine Gent. The devil you would; then I should have travell❜d to a fine purpose truly; you don't imagine, perhaps, that I have been three years abroad, and have made the tour of Europe?

Esop. Yes, Sir, I guess'd you had travell'd by your dress and conversation: but, pray, (with submission) what valuable improvements have you made in these travels?

Fine Gent. Sir, I learnt drinking in Germany; music and painting in Italy; dancing, gaming, and some other amusements, at Paris; and in Holland-faith nothing at all: I brought over with me the best collection of Venetian ballads, two eunuchs, a French dancer, and a monkey, ́ with tooth picks, pictures and burlettas-In short, I have skimm'd the cream of every nation; and have the consolation to declare, I never was in any country in my life, but I had taste enough thoroughly to despise my own.

Esop. Your country is greatly obliged to you ;-but if you are settled in it now, how can your taste and delicacy endure it?

Fine Gent. Faith, my existence is merely supported by amusements; I dress, visit, study taste, and write sonnets; by birth, "ravel, education, and natural abilities, I am entitled to lead the fashion; I am principal connoisseur at all auctions, chief arbiter at assemblies, profess'd critic at the theatres, and a fine gentleman-every where

Esop. Critic, Sir, pray what's that?

Fine Gent. The delight of the ingenious, the terror of poets, the scourge of players, and the aversion of vulgar. Esop. Pray, Sir, for I fancy your life must be somewhat particular) how do you pass your time; the day for in

stance?

Fine Gent. I lie in bed all day, Sir.

Esop. How do you spend your evenings then?

Fine Gent. I dress in the evening, and go generally behind the scenes of both Plav-houses; not, you may imagine, to be diverted with the play, but to intrigue, and shew myself I stand upon the stage, talk aloud, and stare about

-which confounds the actors, and disturbs the audience; upon which the galleries who hate the appearance of one of us, begin to hiss, and cry off, off, while I undaunted stamp my foot so -loll with my shoulder thus-take snuff with my right-hand, and smile scornfullyThis exasperates the savages, and they attack us with vollies of suck'd oranges, and half eaten pippens

Esop. And you retire.

-thus.

Fine Gent. Without doubt, if I am sober for orange will stain silk, and an apple may disfigure a feature.

Esop. I am afraid, Sir, for all this, that you are oblig'd to your own imagination, for more than three fourths of your importance.

Fine Gent. Damn the old prig, I'll bully him-Aside.] Lookee, old philosopher, I find you have pass'd your time so long in gloom and ignorance below here, that our notions above stairs are too refined for you; so we are not likely to agree, I shall cut matters very short with youBottle me off the waters I want, or you shall be convinc'd that I have courage in the drawing of a cork; -dispatch me instantly, or I shall make bold to throw you into the river, and help myself What say you to that now? eh?

Esop. Very civil and concise! I have no great inclination to put your manhood to the trial: so if you will be pleas'd to walk in the grove there, 'till I have examined some I see coming, we'll compromise the affair between us. Fine Gent. Yours, as you behave- au Revior!

[Exit Fine Gentleman,

Enter Mr BowMAN (hastily.)

Bow. Is your name Esop.

Esop. It is, Sir.-Your commands with me ?

Bow, My lord Chalkstone, to whom I have the honour to be a friend and companion, has sent me before, to know if you are at leisure to receive his lordship.

Esop. I am placed here on purpose to receive tal that attends our summons

every mor

Bow. My lord is not of the common race of mortals, I assure you; and you must look upon this visit as a particular honour, for he is so much afflicted with the gout and rheumatism, that we had much ado to get him across the river.

Esop. His lordship has certainly some pressing occasion A 6

for

for the watera, that he endures such inconveniences to get

at them.

Bow. No occasion at all

-His legs indeed fail him a little, but his heart is as sound as ever, nothing can hurt his spirits; ill or well, his lordship is always the best company, and the merriest in his family.

Esop. I have very little time for mirth and good company; but I'll lessen the fatigue of his journey, and meet. him half way.

Bow. His lordship is here already-There's a spirit! Mr Esop-There's a great man!-See how superior he is to his infirmities; such a soul ought to have a better body.

Enter MERCURY with Lord CHALKSTONE..

Lord Chalk. Not so fast, monsieur Mercury-you are a little too nimble for me. Well, Bowman, have you found the philosopher?

Bow. This is he, my lord, and ready to receive your commands.

Lord Chalk. Ha! ha! ha! there he is, profecto!-toujours le meme! [Looking at him through a glass] I should have known him at a mile's distance-a noble personage indeed!-and truly Geek from top to toe.-Most vener-ab'e Esop, I am in this world and the other, above and be low, yours most sincerely.

Esp. I am yours, my lord, as sincerily, and I wish it was in my power to relieve your misfortune.

Lord Chalk. Misfortune! what misfortune?-I am nei-ther a porter nor a chairman, Mr Esop-My legs can bear my body to my friends and my bottle: I want no mo e with them; the gout is welcome to the rest—eh Bowman?

Bow. Your lordship is in fine spirits!'

Esop. Dos not your lordship go through a great deal. of ain?

Lord Chalk. Pain? ay, and pleasure too, eh Bowman!. -When I'm in pain, I curse and swear it away again, and the moment it is gone, I lose no time; I drink the same wines, eat the same dishes, keep the same hours, the same company; and, notwithstanding the gravity of my wise doctors, Iwould not abstain from Frenen wines and French cookery,

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