are not you of
my mind?
Semp. Directly, my lord.--I hope your lordship is pleased
with your ruffles?
Lord Fop. In love with them, stap my
vitals!--Bring my
bill, you shall be paid to-morrow.
Semp. I humbly
thank your worship. [Exit.]
Lord Fop. Hark thee, shoemaker, these
shoes aren't ugly,
but they don't fit me.
Shoe. My lord, I think they
fit you very well.
Lord Fop. They hurt me just below the instep.
Shoe. [Feels his foot.] No, my lord, they don't
hurt you there.
Lord
Fop. I tell thee they pinch me execrably.
Shoe. Why then, my lord, if
those shoes pinch you, I'll be damned.
Lord Fop. Why, will thou
undertake to persuade me I cannot feel?
Shoe. Your lordship may
please to feel what you think fit, but that shoe does not hurt you--I
think I understand my trade. Lord Fop. Now, by all that's good and
powerful, thou art
an incomprehensive coxcomb!--but thou makest
good shoes, and so I'll bear with thee.
Shoe. My lord, I have worked
for half the people of
quality in this town these twenty years, and 'tis
very hard I shouldn't know when a shoe hurts, and when it don't.
Lord
Fop. Well, pr'ythee be gone about thy business.--
[Exit
SHOEMAKER.] Mr. Mendlegs, a word with you.--The
calves of
these stockings are thickened a little too much; they make my legs look
like a porter's.
Mend. My lord, methinks they look mighty well.
Lord Fop. Ay, but you are not so good a judge of those
things as I
am--I have studied them all my life--therefore pray let the next be the
thickness of a crown-piece less.
Mend. Indeed, my lord, they are the
same kind I had the
honour to furnish your lordship with in town.
Lord Fop. Very possibly, Mr. Mendlegs; but that was in the beginning
of the winter, and you should always remember, Mr. Hosier, that if you
make a nobleman's spring legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you
commit a monstrous impropriety, and make no allowance Tor the
fatigues of the winter. [Exit--
MENDLEGS.]
Jewel. I hope, my
lord, these buckles have had the
unspeakable satisfaction of being
honoured with your lordship's approbation?
Lord Fop. Why, they are
of a pretty fancy; but don't you
think them rather of the smallest?
Jewel. My lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on your
lordship's shoe.
Lord Fop. My good sir, you forget that these matters
are
not as they used to be; formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of
machine, intended to keep on the shoe; but the case is now quite
reversed, and the shoe is of no earthly use, but to keep on the
buckle.--Now give me my watches [SERVANT _fetches the
watches_,] my chapeau, [SERVANT brings a dress hat,] my
handkerchief, [SERVANT _pours some scented liquor on a
handkerchief and brings it_,] my snuff-box [SERVANT _brings
snuff-box_.] There, now the business of the morning is pretty well over.
[Exit JEWELLER.]
Fash. [Aside to LORY.] Well, Lory, what dost
think
on't?--a very friendly reception from a brother, after three years'
absence!
Lory. [Aside to
TOM FASHION.] Why, sir, 'tis your
own
fault--here you have stood ever since you came in, and have not
commended any one thing that belongs to him. [SERVANTS _all go
off._]
Fash. [Aside to LORY.] Nor ever shall, while they
belong to
a coxcomb.--[To LORD FOPPINGTON.] Now your
people of
business are gone, brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an hour's
audience of you?
Lord Fop. Faith, Tam, I must beg you'll excuse me
at this time, for I have an engagement which I would not break for the
salvation of mankind.--Hey!--there!--is my carriage at the door?
--You'll excuse me, brother. [Going.]
Fash. Shall you be back to
dinner?
Lord Fop. As Gad shall jedge me, I can't tell; for it is
passible I may dine with some friends at Donner's.
Fash. Shall I meet
you there? For I must needs talk with
you.
Lord Fop. That I'm
afraid mayn't be quite so praper; for
those I commonly eat with are
people of nice conversation; and you know, Tam, your education has
been a little at large.--But there are other ordinaries in town--very good
beef ordinaries--I suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?--However, dear
Tam, I'm glad to see thee in England, stap my vitals!
[Exit_, LA
VAROLE _following.]
Fash. Hell and furies! is this to be borne?
Lory. Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o' the pate
myself.
Fash. 'Tis enough; I will now show you the excess of my
passion, by being very calm.--Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine,
and, in cold blood, let us contrive his destruction.
Lory. Here comes a
head, sir, would contrive it better
than both our loggerheads, if she
would but join in the
confederacy.
Fash. By this light, Madam
Coupler! she seems dissatisfied at something: let us observe her.
Enter MRS. COUPLER.
Mrs. Coup. So! I am likely to be well
rewarded for my
services, truly; my suspicions, I find, were but too
just.-- What! refuse to advance me a petty sum, when I am upon the
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