THE Humours, AND CONVERSATIONS OF THE TOWN, exposed in Two DIALOGUES,  
The First, of the MEN.  
The Second, of the WOMEN.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, in Russel-Street, in Covent-Garden, and J. Tonson, at the Judge's-Head in Chancery-Lane. 1693.   

TO MY honoured Friend, JOHN JONES, OF Dingestow, Esquire  
Honoured Sir,  
'twas no easy matter to find a Patron for so General a Satire as these two Dialogues Contain; since the Vices, and Follies they expose, spread themselves so far through Mankind, that few, very few are free from some Tincture of them. This Consideration, would, I confess, have prevailed on me to have published them Naked, and without any Patron, had not my restless desire of giving a public Testimony of the value I have for your Merit, Presented You, Sir, as a Man out of the reach of all that I have said in this small Volume, and indeed, of all true Satire.  
You have tasted the Pleasures of the Town, but not fed on 'em to a Surfeit, as most that have your Youth, and your Fortune, and that at their own Command, use to do: Youth could not betray you to the Follies of the Town, nor Riches to its Vices: Your Nice and Solid Judgement, gave you, from the Observations on the Transgressions of others, an early, and unrepented Experience, to preserve you from the first; and your own innate Temperance, secured you from the infection of the latter: Your Moderation in all things cut off all excess, and your Generosity, and Love to such as you honoured with the Title of Friend, permitted you not so to over-value the Goods of Fortune, as to prefer them to God-like Compassion, or the heroic Service of your Friend.  
Men generally arrive at Wisdom by such rugged steps of self-experience, that the advantage it brings in Age, seems not to compensate the Price we pay for it in all our Life before, of Health, and Fortune. But with you it has grown acquainted in your Youth, and taught you to retire from the pursuit of Noise, and Nonsense in this Town, to the calm retreat of your Paternal Inheritance, there to Converse with the best part of the best of the Dead; their Wit in their Works; without being obliged to dash that Pleasure with the daily impertinencies of the Living, which Conversation in Cities forces upon us. I must tell you this, my Friend, That as I admire your Choice, so I envy it, yet only as a Friend may; repining that I can't have the same happiness, without any desire of diminishing yours.  
But this Retreat of yours, ought indeed to have deterred me from Dedicating any of my lighter Performances to you, since, as you have judgement, so you have Leisure to examine them more severely. But the Charm of a Friend will I hope cast a veil over my Faults, and make You Espouse them with all their Defects. This I can say for these Dialogues, if that be any Excuse, that they are the unpremeditated Products of my Fancy, both as to Thought, and Language, without the Cultivation of my judgement, which would both have added, and diminished, if I had been Master of my own time. The Satire is not meanly directed against any particular Person, aiming only at the Follies and Vices too many are infected with. I could never much value their Performances, nor at all agree with their Notion of Satire, who make no distinction betwixt the Person, and the Folly or 'vice: For my Friend might have some of them, which my Love for him would make me desire to Reform, without any Personal Reflection; that being the effect of a Private and Poor Revenge, below the Generous Indignation that should inspire true Satire. If, therefore, any find themselves touched, they ought to make a Right Use of it, and Correct those Failings, which render them liable to Ridicule, and Laughter.  
But I shall not be very solicitous about the General Reception of this Book; if it does but Contribute to your Diversion, at your more unbended Hours, it would be an extreme Satisfaction to him, Sir, that is Proud of Subscribing himself  
Your Friend, and Humble Servant,   

THE Humours and Constitutions OF THE TOWN, exposed: IN A DIALOGUE Betwixt Mr. Jovial, Mr. Pensive, and Mr. Sociable.  SCENE, the Fields. Enter Mr. Jovial, and Mr. Pensive Booted and spurred, just ready to take Horse for the Country. Pens. 
AS you love me, Cousin Jovial, let's make hast out of the scent of this abominable Town; methinks it smells of Sodom and Gomorrah, and will, I verily believe, have the same fate. What a continual hurry and noise is here? the Clamours of a Country-Mob at the choice of a Knight of the Shire, is no more than the beating of a tabor? One would wonder its Inhabitants could ever sleep, for I protest, I could scarce get one sound nap at this distance, so that I begin to think, the yelping of your Hounds the harmony of the Spheres.  Jov. 
The truth on't is, dear Pensive, as cow said of Eternity, 'tis an Eternal NOW; so the uninterrupted hurry of this great HIVE is one continual buzz, the only possible perpetual Motion. But I am glad it has made a Convert of thee to the noble and manly sport of Hunting, and I hope now I shall have thy Company sometimes in that divertisement, for 'tis unreasonable to be cooped up always, as thou art, like a Cinic, in thy Tub of a Study, thou shouldst let thy Body, as well as thy Mind, sometimes walk at large.  Pens. 
I could be a Convert to any thing, on condition to be delivered from this damned Town.  Jov. 
Well, dear Couz, have but a little patience, and we'll make our Horses fly, like a Stag pursued through the forest by my whirlwind, Killbuck, and Make-swift.  Pens. 
Let's therefore turn back again to our Inn, for by this time our Horses must be ready, and we lose time till we are on the Spur.  Jov. 
Agreed.— [ They turn toward their Inn.] Hold up thy head, Pensive, and take a last farewel-look of this overgrown City, see how it spreads itself every day, like the Follies it contains.  Pens. 
I had rather look up to see the welcome prospect of your House. The sight of this Town torments me with the memory of the fatigues it has given me; for tho' we took Lodgings here in these Fields, that we might keep ourselves alive with a distant view of that bliss which business denied us, yet I have not had one jot of content, nor shall; till I get forty or fifty mile beyond the smell, hearing, or sight on't.  Jov. 
Nay, the time has seemed so tedious to me too, that I can scarce persuade myself, but that, as a Drawer in a Tavern at Midnight, belies us an hour or two, to engage our longer stay, so the Sun has palm'd upon us at least two days for one.  Pens. 
And nights too. For I'll be sworn, it has seemed an Age to me, filled with more Impertinences, than a Court Visit, or a Country Sermon.  Enter Mr. SOCIABLE. Jov. 
Who's this that comes with such a hasty place towards us?— I should know him,— Oh, 'tis my quondam Brother in iniquity.— Ha! Mr. Sociable, your humble Servant, prithee let me embrace thee, for I 'm more o're-joy'd to see thee, than to find a Covy of Partridges when I'm setting, or a Leash of Hares in an Evening, when I've rid all day without any Game.  Soc. 
And I, dear Jovial, to see thee, than a half-broken-Gamester to meet a Wealthy Bubble, or an Usurer a Spend-thrift-Heir-Apparent to a good Estate,— but my dear Knight,— where and how hast thou lived this many a day?— and how long hast thou been in Town?  Jov. 
A whole long tedious WEEK, upon my Honour.  Soc. 
And where hast thou hide thyself from the view of Mortal Eyes, that a Man could never see thee by day, nor by night? What, didst procure an invisible Cloak, like Sir Aeneas at Carthage?  Jov. 
No, no; a far worse expedient— for all the Morning I have been confined to Westminster, among the bawling Black rob at the Bar, or obliged to attend in the Hall, among the buzzing Attorneys, solicitors, and Pettyfoggers, and their Meat and Drink, the Litigious of all forts and sizes, who were preparing Perjury and bad Causes with Gold, to make them go down the more glibly in the Court.  Soc. 
Well— but if mighty Business took up all your Mornings, could you not find one Elimosinary hour in an Afternoon or Evening, to bestow upon an Old Friend, over a Chirping Bottle?  Pens. 
By my Faith, Sir, you need not doubt it, my Cousin would not let a day slip without a Bottle or two;— I thank him, he debauched me six times this week to the Tavern, in the midst of the damned Town; whereas, if I must needs have lost my time in guzling, I had rather 'a been drinking Oat-Ale at a Cake house here in the Fields, where I might, betwixt every Glass, have had a refreshing look at the Country.  Jov. 
To tell thee the truth, dear Sociable, my Cousin, here, and I, being subpaena'd up for Witnesses, were every day obliged, from Westminster Hall to go to the Tavern to Dinner with the plaintiff, whose Cause we appeared in; and by that time we had ended, and taken one digestive Bottle, my Cousin, impatient of the noise of the Streets, hurried me away to my Lodgings, so that I could never find an opportunity to wait upon you.  Pen. 
I could almost wish, I had never known how to've writ my Name, for then I might have scaped being a Witness, nor had been subpaena'd up now, to attend the Term: but I am resolved never to testify again, and rather lose half my Estate, than be forced to endure another Week in this place.  Soc. 
I 'm sorry to hear that, Sir, for I was in hopes, now the term is ended, that Mr. Jovial would give me one week's enjoyment of his company, after so many years of absence; in which time, Sir, you might take a survey of the Rarities of this City.  Pens. 
I have seen more of it already, than I desire; and if Mr. Jovial be so mad, to fling away precious time on such Trifles as this Town affords, I'm resolved to leave him, and take Horse immediately.  Soc. 
Why, Sir? You make more hast into the Country, than an Attorney, who has not litigious Suits enough of his own creating, to defray the charges of one odd nights Lodging beyond his usual stint. But, I hope, my dear Jovial you are not for so quick a dispatch?  Jov. 
Even so, dear Sociable; for had we not met you, we had both been mounted by this time, and on the Road.  Soc. 
What, without seeing me?— without so much as inquiring after me?— Has Wedlock and Husbandry made you forget all the ties of friendship so far?  Jov. 
Wrong me not, Friend, for I sent my Man to all the Taverns, and Coffee-Houses( to omit other Houses) betwixt Westminster-Hall, and Aldgate, I think, but no news to be heard of you.— So that I concluded you dived after some Intrigue, and then I thought it would be to as little purpose to seek you, as to follow the chase upon a wrong scent.  Soc. 
Right, Jovial, or to look for sense in a Modern System of Divinity, or Generosity in Lombard-street: For to tell thee the truth, I have within these few days taken a Lodging in that Street there, in pursuit of one of the Prettiest, Balmy, Innocent Creatures you ever beholded with your eyes— She lives in that same House, dear Rogue, has no Mother, or Father, and only an Old doting Aunt for her Guardian; a tractable Girl for her Servant, whom I have several ways obliged, and about some thirty thousand pound for her Fortune; and I am resolved, that I may gain the good graces of the Aunt, to put on the useful vizor of Sobriety, for a while, and look as demurely as a Country Girl just come to Town, before she has lost her Maiden-head.  Jov. 
This is the best Design I ever knew thee engaged in, and therefore I wish thee Success; for I hope 'twill make thee quit this lewd Town-Life, and give me the happiness of having thee for my Neighbour in the Country, where we'll renew our old Union, while I discover such a Train of manly Pleasures to thee, that thou wilt be ashamed of having lost so much of thy Youth in the pursuit of Noise, and Nonsense; and I'm confident thou'lt give thyself over entirely to a Country Life.  Soc. 
What, wholly forsake delicious London? For ever make the disadvantageous change of the brisk Juice of the Grape, for the heavy Product of Malt and Water? The lively Conversation of the Town, for the thoughtless Gravity of a Country Justice? No, no, Knight, I have a nicer Relish of Pleasure than that comes to; nay, I would almost forswear my dear Silvia, I tell you of, if I thought that would be the Consequence of my loving her.  Jov. 
Ha! ha! ha! I find you continue your old humour of preferring the nauseous Fatigues of a City Life, to the calm Retreat, and healthy Divertisements of the Country.  Soc. 
Why— what should alter me? Have you more pleasure? More sense, or more honesty in the Country, than we have here? I never could find but that a Peasant had as much Knavery in his Dealings, in proportion to his Capacity, as a City Shop-keeper; or that my young Master, of Eighteen, was less lewd than a Town rak, tho' in a more Clownish and awker'd manner: 'vice and Folly are Universal, and the same in the Country as in the Town, only we have 'em dressed at Pontack's, and you at a Three-penny-Ordinary: You eat that crude and raw, which we have the advantage to have served up with good Sauce, and variety of Dishes, to give it the better relish.  Pen. 
Much good may't do you, Sir, with your relish. I am sure I had rather be obliged to poor upon the puzzling point of a Perpetual Motion, or fixing the Longitude, than come within forty miles of the smell of the Hought-goust, if I were once well got out on't.  Jov. 
Right, dear Pensive; and I would rather be condemned to eternal Preaching, the lazy Coach, and the Parson's Company, than wear out half as much time again, as I have been kept here this 'bout.  Soc. 
You were of another mind when you and I came from the University together, then none more blithe and gay than Jovial, nor any a greater Admirer of London; there was not a Ball, a mask, Serenade, or any public Meeting, but Mr. Jovial was the leading Man in't, till a damned Visit to thy Uncle in the Country got thee into the fatal Noose, and so debauched thy Nobler Principles into an antipathy to what you once admired. The very thought on't has almost set my stomach against Wedlock; but that I think I shall make a choice more agreeable to my humour; for my little Tit, if I mistake not, loves the Town, as well as myself.  Jov. 
Which, by the by, is none of the most commendable Qualities, I think, Sociable, in a fair Lady, whatever it may be in a Man.  Pen. 
If you have been bread at the University, Sir, methinks the Charms of Philosophy, or some other Learning, should engage you beyond the thoughtless hurry of the Town.  Soc. 
Why, faith, Sir, the greatest Fruit I reaped at the University was, that Reason ought to be the chief Directrix of my Life; and I think I have followed her Ladyship hitherto pretty close in my way of living.  Pen. 
You speak a Paradox, Sir, and will need the subtlety of a Sophister to maintain it.  Pen. 
I apprehended no such difficulty in the matter: For Reason tells us, that 'tis a Folly to spend ones Time on Uncertainties, when one may improve it better; now all your Speculative Knowledge is built upon so weak a Foundation, that it's ●ost to and fro continually, with different, nay opposite gusts of Argument, which has left every thing that is advanced in Books in doubt, and only cleared this Point, That none of you know what the Truth is, any further than a Probable Conjecture will reach, which is far enough from Certainty; all your Studies ending in a bare Amusement, whereas we daily experience the Grateful Effects of our Search in substantial pleasure. If therefore you grant( what I think is self-evident) that Knowledge to be the best, which brings the greatest Satisfaction to the Mind, by experimental demonstration, you must confess the Town ought to be preferred to the Country; since you can't deny, but that Conversation will sooner bring one to the knowledge of Mankind( the Noblest part of the Creation, and the most worthy of our Study) than Books, and consequently to the knowing of ones self. Thus far I myself have proceeded( that am yet an Under-graduate) in this admirable Science, which the graecian Priggs attributed to the Command of their God Apollo, that I find our Life is but short, and balderdash'd enough with the plaguy Mixtures of Crosses and Fatigues to our hands, without our contributing to the Abuse by increasing them: And from this I conclude, That since we have but a little time to live, and since even That is none of the most pleasant, we ought not to antedate our death, and turn our Chambers into Churchyards, and Charnel-Houses, but improve the fleeting Minutes with Delight and Pleasure, and shut those intruding Solitudes out of door, whilst Health and Youth permit.  Jov. 
You mistake your Point, Sir; We deny you not Pleasure, nor would confine you to the woeful Ditty of a perpetual Requiem for your Soul before its Passage; nor would we have you, like Heraclitus, weeping to no purpose, for those Ills Fate has allotted to human Life, and which all our Solicitudes will never avert. But we contend you aim at Pleasure where 'tis not to be found, as is incomparably described by a great Poet.  
Excess of Luxury they think can please,  
And Laziness call Loving of their Ease;  
To be dissolved in Pleasures still they feign,  
Tho' their whole life but Intermitting Pain:  
So much of Surfeits, headache, Claps are seen;  
We scarce perceive the little time between.  
Well-meaning-Men, who make this gross mistake,  
And Pleasure lose, only for Pleasure's sake;  
Each Pleasure has its price, and when we pay  
Too much of Pain, we squander Life away.  
You destroy that Health which you seem to value, in the chase of that Quarry which will never be gained, but to the ruin of your satisfaction, and destruction of that Happiness you aim at; bringing Old Age and Weathermarks on you before you have run half your Course. If you will have Pleasure, seek it where Nature first designed it, in the Country, where the wholesome Air, the green Fields, the flowery Meads, Purling Brooks, and the melodious Birds, the true Harmony of the Spheres, give new life every time you stir abroad, where the Divertisements attribute to Health as well as Pleasure.  Soc. 
Methinks you have given but a poor Idea of your happiness as yet, when you place it in the Conversation of Brutes, and the Prospect of insensible Animals. Nor can I imagine, how you can expect to persuade me from the love of the Town, when you pretend to no Advantage above me; nor come up to the Excellence I enjoy. If you converse with Beasts, as your Dogs and Horses, &c. Is that comparable to the Conversation of Men of sense? and Fine Charming Ladies, bright as that Heaven whose Image they discover? If you have the irregular and rude Notes of Birds for music, we have them better taught in Cages here, which if we wanted, we have all the Noble embellishments of Art, with the variety of Instruments, as well as Sounds, which is the Harmony above the Spheres. If you Converse with the Dead, we enjoy the Living, nor are we without the Pleasure of Books, and Retirement when we please.  Pen. 
But Noise, and Hurry, the disorders of Drinking and Whoring, those wretched Compounds which make up all your Lives, render you incapable of Thinking well.  Jov. 
Or of relishing of the other Pleasures he mentioned; a continual use of some of them especially clogging the Appetite, and creating an indifference in the most delightful things; so that you Whore, you Drink, you go to the Play, the Musick-Meetings, &c. out of mere Custom, not Desire. Then for Books, 'tis only to sport an Author in a Bookseller's Shop, and that commonly some scurrilous Pamphlet, or a Novel at Bentley's, or Briscoe's, or some new Miscellany of Trifles, forgot as fast as red, and not worth the remembering.  Pen. 
And then his Retirement is no farther than his Chamber, or Closet, perhaps where he has all the Noise of the Town to divert him from sedate thinking: There is nothing a greater injury to the Life of a Philosopher, than the Hurry of the City.  Soc. 
Pardon me, Sir, I find all the Philosophers of Old Assembled themselves into Societies; and Athens, the busiest City of Greece, was the place of their usual Abode; not the Tub of Diogenes, of whose Wisdom I could never yet hear much proof; all that he could pretend to, was, That he cared for no body but himself. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, were Men that conversed with Mankind, as well as Books, they never else had made so great a noise in the World; and if we may be at liberty to take the obvious sense of some of Plato's Verses, we shall find he knew how to relish a Kiss as well as Alcibiades.  Pen. 
Ah, Sir, the Examples you produce of the Philosophers, will make very little for your Cause: For they were removed from Hurry when they studied, and when they Taught: their Gardens, their Gymnasia, &c. were proper Retirements for them. Besides that which obliged them to live in Athens, will sences serve you for living in London. They were professed Masters in Philosophy, each the Head of a Particular Sect, which they desired to impart to Followers of their own, by that to propagate what they thought a Truth, or to build up a Name with Posterity, which could not be effected but in a City. But I hope you design for no New Sect, nor to set up a School of Philosophy, which has no other end now, than the establishing a particular Happiness, leaving the diffusing the knowledge of it to the Universities.  Jov. 
This is but rambling Discourse, let us go in here to our Quarters, and there discuss the Point more to the purpose; for I must confess, dear Sociable, I love thee so well, that I would spend one day more in Town to make a Convert of thee to Right Reason; and I question not, but when we have dissected your City Life, and come to a particular account of it in all its parts, you will be convinced of your error. I believe I may for so good a work trespass on my Cousin's patience.  Pen. 
Such a work, I must confess, would recompense the delay of our Journey; but let us get into the most airy Room of the House.  Soc. 
Agreed— Well, this is a good pleasurable Room, but let us have a Bottle or two of the best Wine the house affords, to give us a whet or two between whiles; 'tis as necessary, as Notes to the person in the Pulpit.  Jov. 
Gad the motion is but reasonable— but 'tis a hard matter to get good Wine, between this and Charing-Cross, I'll therefore dispatch my Man to the Blew Posts for a Flask of the best they have, and in the mean time we'll content ourselves with what our Host can furnish us with, the best in its kind— Well, now we are seated, and all our Auxiliaries about us, let us to the Point, Cousin, of making a Proselyte of this Sociable.  Soc. 
If you have but as much to say against the Town, as I have against the Country, I fancy 'twill happen with us, as it did with two Brothers in a Dispute of Religion, one was a Papist, the other a Protestant, and each made the other a Convert to the Opinion he forsook himself: If so, Jovial, I'll mount your Horse, and ride down, and take possession of your Lady Wife, as lawful prise, and you shall supply my place to mine that must be; but what your Cousin would do for a piece of Consolation, I know not.  Jov. 
Ha! ha! ha! ha! never be solicitous about that; for if such a Miracle should happen, heaven be praised, the Town affords enough of compassionate: Females, who will soon solace his Sorrows, and supply his Wants that way.  Pens. 
said tamen amoto quaramus seria ludo.  Soc. 
Nay, I bar Latin and Greek, as of Pagan Extraction, and if I must be worsted, it shall be in good Christian English: Nor will I be confined to the grave starched seriosity of a Sylogistical Argumentation, that must be no more laid aside than a Covenant Board, or a caconical Gown.  Jov. 
Nay, to speak the truth, 'twere unreasonable to deny you any advantage you can desire, since you engage with two Enemies in so bad a Cause.  Pens. 
To begin therefore with Childhood, when Virtue or 'vice makes the first and easiest impressions. The Children in the City are taught to forget all that is decent in a Child, the Parents care being to bring them to a bold Confidence, which ends in the Contempt of those that begot them; and this they miscall Wit, and hopeful forwardness; they allow them to increase in these Follies, all the criminal Liberty their Age is capable of making use of.  Jov. 
And, as if they were afraid their Children should not be wicked soon enough, they instruct them in the terms of 'vice, before they are capable of understanding the meaning of them, against their early Experience inform them better. They teach them to Swear before they can Pray, and to talk bawdy before they can red.  Pens. 
On the contrary, that Bashfulness which Nature imparts to that Innocent Age, is cherished in the Country, as the Friend to those Virtues which should be instilled, or confirmed in them: 'Tis more reasonable to preserve their Native Innocence, than to expect they should meet with a later Repentance; and that must be gained by laying a good foundation of Virtue in the very first approaches of Reason.  Soc. 
Ah, Gentlemen, you are as far out of your way, as a Traveller in a dark night, that has followed a Will in the Wisp for the most part on't; or a Lawyer that's pleading on a false Breviate: That generous Assurance which we use Children ●o in the City, inspires Noble Thoughts, and lays the foundation of Wit and Courage, which will sprout out where it has liberty, but is stisted where Nature is curbed and kept in awe: You in the Country lay the foundation of dullness in Childhood, by confining a Boy of five years old to as much Gravity before his Lady Mother, nay, and before the Servants too, as if he bent under the weight of fifty years. You smother that animating vigour in its birth, which should bear them through the World when grown up. Modesty is a starving Quality, and only another Name for Folly, it ought to be rooted out of Children, if you would have them thrive, and not be the ridicule of the World, and the property of every imposing Coxcomb.  Pens. 
That Virtue, I confess, is not of much use in the Town, but in the Country 'tis not at all obnoxious to those inconveniencies you urge, but on the contrary gains Honour from their Inferiors, and Respect from all.  Jov. 
But then for the youth of the Town, Cousin, what a prospect is there of endless Follies? What a wild medley of Nonsense, Noise, Intrigue, Quarrels, Drunkenness? &c. What a mad thoughtless interval of Life; Billet-deux and Challenges, Dressing, Visits; the Coffee-house, and Play-house; the Tavern and Sleep is the whole business of night and day; the Order of Nature is inverted, Night and Day changing places.  Pens. 
Here 'tis they lay up stores of Poxes, Claps, and Scars, whilst they lavish their other Stores of Wealth, Youth, and Health, without one fober reflection. Here they make their pleasant Seats in the Country fly, for the purchase of the Embraces of some practised Harlot instead of a Maid, and whose Maiden-head had been sold to half a hundred before him.  Jov. 
And perhaps, upon a point of Honour, the young Cully shall keep her till she has drained him of all his Estate, and then sends him out a grazing like Nebucadnezzar, with scarce a Shirt to his back, a scandal even to the Bullies of Alsatia. But if he has a better Fate attends him than he deserves, and so much Cunning, as not to ruin himself to gratify her Pride and Luxury, he must expect to be, at best, but her Property, whom she will jilt as often as any opportunity offers itself; for no man ever yet kept a Woman, but she would grant her Favours to any man else that would address to her. As soon as the Kind-Keeper is withdrawn, the Hack is in readiness, away speeds the Whore to her retreat of Fornication; this day to one, to morrow to to another: When her Appetite is satisfied, or her time requires it, she hastens home, washes, new riggs, and seats her self, with some Novel or Play, in a very solitary posture, till her Spark returns( whose motions she has always as certain advice of, as a Commander has of those of an Enemy) she meets him with a thousand forced Caresses, the Fool melts away with her Kisses, and concludes her the most constant pretty cooing Turtle in the Nation, defies the World to Rival him, and hugs himself in the extravagance of his fancied Happiness; the Jilt perceives it, and then either squeezes out of him a new Petticoat, or Manto; or perhaps closes in with his fondness, and betrays him to Matrimony, and then she makes him a cuckolded according to Law.  Pens. 
There is another sort of Youths, that spend their Time and their Money even less agreeable to Nature than these; I mean, in gaming.  Jov. 
Right, Cousin; for sure, if in any thing that of Hudibras be true, 
The pleasure sure's as great  
In being cheated, as to cheat;  'Tis in the Intrigues and Amours with the Fair: But at Seven and Eleven to shake away an Estate to known Rooks that live by the Dice, is an unaccountable piece of folly; nay, and to take such wondrous pains to be cheated, as to break ones whole nights rest at the Groom-Porters, to lose Eight Hundred, or a Thousand pound in the midst of a thousand Curses, Vexations, and baulked wishes, is such an odd Recreation, that I profess I am as far to seek in the Cause of it, as I am why the State permits such Extravagancies.  Pens. 
And so am I, as far as I am to seek in the Cause of the ebbing and flowing of the Sea, or of the Productions of several Creatures, yea, of any other Secret in Nature, which Philosophy, as yet, gives but blind guesses at.  Jov. 
All they shall gain from their dear Experience, is but Want and Contempt, unless some compassionate Knight of the Elbow qualify them to turn Sharpers, and instruct them to pick up an ungenerous Living by the same means that they lost their Estates: But this is the highest pitch of happiness they can hope; and as they have spent the beginning of their Age in being cheated, so they must spend the remainder in cheating others; till for want of practise, perhaps, or Over-confidence in their Skill, they are discovered, and receive the gentle bastinade, or the severer stab, and so put a wretched Conclusion to their foolish Lives.  Pens. 
How differently do our Youth in the Country spend their time?—  Soc. 
True, Sir, very differently, I confess, but the advantage I think lies much on the Town side; for Childhood and Youth are so very much alike in the Country, that 'twould puzzle a good Logician to find a tolerable distinction for 'em; for 'tis all composed of everlasting Satchel, School, Play-days, Truants, Birds-nests, Swimming, robbing of Orchards, and the like; unless One, perhaps, extraordinary in his Generation, chance to be so very forward, as to get into the cornfields quarters, and make terrible havoc of Maiden-heads among his Father's Tenants Daughters: But that is the height of his Manhood. For the generality, they are but petty Striplings, scarce out of their Slabbering-bibs, when our Youth in Town have served a Campaign, with Cap and Feather, and Embroidered Coat, among the roaring Guns and groans of dying Men.—  Jov. 
Or rather among the roaring Mouth-Granado's of Oaths, and the Shrieks of Ravish'd-Maids, or those that would be thought to be so, the Lamentations of cheated Bauds, the Scuffles of bilk'd Coachmen, and volleys of Duns of believing Vintners, Tailors, Sempstresses, and the rest of the trusting Shop-keepers. The height of their Manhood is a modish Tilt upon a foolish hot-headed punctilio, when Wine or Passion, not Courage, prompts them to't; or an Engagement with a Detachment of bailiffs after their Credit fails 'em, and even the Fraternity of Stiffed refuse all their Obligations, to supply their present wants; but for Campaigns and Guns, I believe few of 'em e're came near any, unless the quondam peaceable one of Hownslowheath, or the Noble Mustre of your City Mermydons in High park, in their formidable Buff-Coats of-Mail, and Tin and Silver Head-pieces.  Pens. 
But whilst the Youth of the Town are in chase of Ruin and Rottenness, ours in the Country are improving in the knowledge of their own Affairs, and thinking of an honest and wholesome propagation of their Families, by marrying with some Innocent and Virtuous Lady of equal Quality, who brings not only unsophisticated Beauty, but a good Fortune too; whilst the man of Mode here in Town, after he has spent, or at best, weakened his Estate with Drinking, game, and Whoring, takes up with a damned Jilt at last for a Wife, who instead of repairing the Breaches of his Fortune, makes 'em wider, till he's quiter ruined in his Purse as well as Reputation and Happiness.  Jov. 
And then he must wander up and down the Temple Walks, or those of Grays-Inn, picking his Teeth, to make the World think he has been at a good Meal, when Duke Humphrey was his Host; then if he meet a Friend in the Street that presses to drink a Bottle, his Pockets are so empty, that they will not reach a penny Club for an honest pot of English Ale and Beer; therefore he pretends wondrous hasty business to avoid the scandal of having no Money, tho' he has no more to do than a soldier in time of Peace, or a Lawyer in the long Vacation: Whilst, in the mean while, his Lady Wife, if she be a Whore of that Conscience to stick to him in his Adversity, is fain every night to make the Voyage of the Strand, Fleetstreet, Old-Baily, &c. in search of some Six-penny Adventure, but if Fate and good Fortune afford her a free Cully of half a Crown, and a pint of Wine, she fails home loaded with a richer Cargo than a Ship from the East-Indies, and her loving Spouse receives her with open Arms, regales it with a Tost and Ale, or, perhaps, a Cup of cool Nants, to drive away the raging Wind from his empty Stomach.  Pens. 
This is following the Dictates of Reason with the vengeance.  Jov. 
Nay, the truth on't is, they have nicked Reason, as sure as a Buckaneer his mark, or a client in giving his Lawyer double Fees, that his Cause may be well followed.  Pens. 
But if he should have the luck to continue single so long, as to have a little consideration of his condition, the small remainder of his Stock is laid out in rich Equipage, to win the Heart of some supposed Fortune; and there he's generally as much mistaken, as a zealous Philosopher, that stands to his foolish Opinion at the loss of his dear life.  Jov. 
Or a Country Justice, that has mistaken his Statute, and inflicted a greater punishment than he can justify, or a Spark that mistakes the Chambermaid for the Mistress.  Soc. 
Hold, hold, Gentlemen— gad à Man can no more put in a word with you, than with Jo. Hains, or some of our Coffee-house Holdersforth. I find two to one is too great odds.  Jov. 
What do you begin to despair of your Cause? Gad, Mr. Sociable, 'tis as bad an Omen as a Visit from the person, when the Physicians have given one over: You seemed to have a great deal more Confidence in your Cause but now, when you took such compassionate care for my Cousin here.  Soc. 
Ah sweet Mr. Jovial, you mistake me quiter, I only desire I may put in a word, in answer, as often as I have a mind, else I might as well have been confined to Syllogising, that damned starched method of the Schools.  Pens. 
Oh, by all means, Sir, Object and Return, as often as you please. I defy you to parallel the Follies and Vices of the Town with the shadows of such in the Country.  Jov. 
No, you may search a whole County for two or three, unless in a populous Town, for there they make what advances they can towards your Vices and Follies; but here in London they are so numerous, that no place but presents you with hundreds, they are as obvious as a Whore in Moor-fields, a Beggar in Lincolns-Inn-fields, a Beaux at Tom. Wrains, a person at Sams; but to proceed to them in their order.  Pens. 
Then being come to Man's estate and middle-age, when in the Country we are in our prime, they are overtaken with all the decrepidness and defects of Old-age, trembling Limbs, a debilitated Body, and unsound Mind.  Jov. 
Well may they be said to have lived apace, for they reach the Goal of Life, before we get half way; but much good may it do them with their hast; if they make not more hast than good speed, I am much mistaken, Pensive.  Soc. 
Gad, in the Country, you can call 'em at best but overgrown boys, having not yet arrived to the Understanding, and Conversation of a City apprentice, being better acquainted with the Names of their Dogs, the Forms where to find a Hare; or at most, the squezing and harassing their Tenants, than with the noble Science of Conversation, for which man was first designed. But if he has the uncommon fate to be given to Books, one had better engage with a Quack on his Stage, or a Simpling Apothecary with all his train of Botanic's; for he shan't speak six words without a phrase of Latin or Greek at the end of 'em; and a conceited School-master is but a stripling in Pedantry to him.  Pens. 
That Pedantry which you condemn, and of which very few are guilty, is much more rational, than the larding your Discourse with needless Oaths and Imprecations, at every other word, or perpetual Obscenity; as if Man were made, and Conversation designed for nothing else but to talk of the most beastly Parts and Acts that belong to human Race, which carry that shane in all Countreys, that the Parts as well as Offices of them are hide from public view, such a brand of Infamy has Nature her self imprinted on them: And I dare be so bold to say, That heaven ordained not that way of propagating Mankind as the most excellent, but only to put us in mind of the Frailty and Contemptibleness of our Being, which owed its rise to the same sordid cause as the Bruits do theirs; that so from our beginning to our end we might have continual motives to lessen our aspiring Pride.  Jov. 
But admit the Men in the Country such raw unpolished Boys, such Pedants as Mr. Sociable would make them, they have still the advantage of having kept their Innocence as well as Estate, when those in Town have not only lost both, but even the Memory of them. 'Tis a sign we busy our Minds with Affairs less Criminal, as the improving our Paternal Inheritances, and endeavouring to convey that better to our Posterity, which we have received from our Ancestors; the public receives advantage from our Employments, our planting of Timber furnishes Materials for the future Safety and Glory of our Nation, in the Shipping; our improving our Lands increases the Provisions of the Kingdom, and make plenty flow more largely; nay, there is scarce a guilty Action of our lives. If we retire to our Study, the Speculations of Philosophy, the Transactions of History, or the Constitutions of our Government afford us a pleasant as well as profitable Entertainment: If we are curious in inquiries into Nature, the Fields, Hills, and our Gardens, the Mineral, vegetable, and Animal Kingdoms afford us variety enough for our search. Such as these are the things that employ our Minds, and keep them from that idleness which breeds those wanton desires, of which your City Life is composed.  Pens. 
At this Age we are established in the Principles and practise of Reason; when some of you, City Sparks, being taught by the sensible Penalties they feel, of loss of Health and Estate, begin to consider, and then retire into the Country, to the tenth part of that Estate they were born to; and then to heal that shane of living less than their Birth and Education require, they betake themselves to the study of Philosophy, that they may learn how little Nature is content with.  Jov. 
Others of your Town Beaux and Rakes, continue the follies of their Youth, but have the advantage of being received by the younger fry, as Masters in their Profession, and their Judgments are appealed to by them in all nice points of Dress, Amour and Exploit. Some whose Purses won't hold out to persevere to the end, if they are stocked with a little superficial Learning, a small stock of Wit, and have been well practised in writing Billet deux, set up for Authors, and so for the continuation of one Captivity add another Slavery to't; that is, that they may be still Cullies and Vassals to Whores and Bauds, to the Bottle or the die, they add the worst of all the imposing Service of the Booksellers: Some aspire higher, and by large Quotations to a little Book, borrowed from Burton's Melancholy, or some Common-Law-Book, get the Reputation of profound Scholars; and so cheating the ignorant Women, and more ignorant Beaux and Wits, who admire any thing they understand not, of a Reputation, draw the Booksellers to make their Court to them. Another way they have to obtain this End, is, to advance some new Opinion of Wit, Poetry, &c. set off with a Prefatory Essay in defence of their Opinion; and this certainly takes with all, gaining the Author not only Reputation with the Dealers in Wit, but also with the minor critics( that is, every ignorant Reader) and wondrous esteem with the fair Ladies, so that he may save the expense of a Baw'd, and Whore upon more reasonable terms, his Works having pimp'd more effectually for him.  Pens. 
Another, who by all his Conversation or expense of Time and Money, could gain no other Excellence, but the enriching of his Face, or furnishing himself with the names and places of abode of all the Whores of City and Suburbs, is fain to live upon the sponge the rest of his days, and prefer that wretched precarious subsistence to Death, the end of his Ignominy.  Jov. 
Nay, and if he have a pretty Wife himself, he spares her not, but pimps for his Friend even at home, and holds the Door, whilst his Spouse is adorning his Forehead: For this he gains the honourable Appellation of Sir Jolly, or some very good natured Title, and the Table and Conversation of the best Quality of either Sex that have any occasion to make use of him.  Pens. 
There are others whose youthful Extravagancies have driven 'em to the wretched fate of Spunging, that their Stock is a pleasant sort of unintelligible Banter, composed of ridiculous Stories, Relations of his past Intrigues or Adventures, most of which are the effect of his morning Study. These are the civilest Sparks in Company, in the World, and will be sure to praise every thing you say, tho' they laugh at you as much in the next Company they come in; and these are called Honest Fellows.  Jov. 
And I never knew one of those that were called so, but were the greatest Rascals in the World. There are another sort of Gentlemen of the Town, tho' not so numerous as pretended, that live upon the loser Affections of the Fair Sex, or rather, the uglier part of it; those whose Purses are forced to supply the defect of their Faces, and draw able Gallants to gratify their Lust, whose Deformity else would starve their insatiate desire.  Pens. 
There is a monstrous Disease, they say, in Nature, which they, the vulgar, call the Wolf, which makes the distempered eat beyond Reason, and on defect of Victuals is devoured himself by it; so the Lust of these sort of Women is something beyond the ordinary growth of Nature, not to be satisfied even when the person is tired, as the Messalina of old; but these are so rare, that certainly there is scarce one in a thousand years.  Soc. 
Gad, Gentlemen, I find you are both a little in the dark as to this point, and therefore I will only unfold it to you as the nature of the thing is; for take my word for't, there is no more of Monstrous and Uncommon in it, than there is of Wit in a Dutchman, Courage in an irishmen, in a Spanish Don Humility or Money, in a Frenchman Modesty; or, in short, in an Usurer or Bookseller Generosity: For every Woman that will make a Man Master of her Person, at the same time makes him Master of her Purse; I mean not Common Women, that live by Fornication; but such as Love has betrayed to the Embraces of another, whether they be single or married Women, who are far more numerous than the public Traders: And this benefit is not made only by the Ugly; but the most Beautiful, if her Gallant be so ungenerous to desire it, or so unhappy to want it, will contribute to her power to his Satisfaction: And this is the wondrous Mystery, which makes so many admire, that this Brawny irishmen is kept, and that Smirkin Monsieur wears so many badges of the Ladies Favours; tho' but the other day, the first came from his bogs all covered with Itch and rags, without any Portion but Impudence; the other a Pious Refugee, loaden with Vermin and Presumption. 'Tis these Knight-Errants business to raise their Fortunes by the ruin of half a hundred poor Sempstresses and City-Perruque-making-Damsels, till they arrive to be equipped like Gentlemen, and then they set up for an Amour of Quality; some distressed Countess or other, neglected by her Lord, is taken with his strong Parts, and t'others Eternal chatting and frisking, and then they live like the Hero's of their Countries: For if once a Lady be so unhappy as to trust her Reputation into such Villains hands, she must resolve to buy their silence at the daily expense of her own, or( if she be married) her Husband's Purse. But what's this to the Gentlemen of the Town, Men of Quality and Estate, the Beaux Esprits? Their Experience grows with their Years, and at middle age are more knowing than an old man in the Country; and so far only 'tis true, they have lived faster than you. They are serving their Country abroad on Embassies and other Negotiations, or conveying the most secret Transactions of State to Posterity, which those that lived remoter from the Springs, and first Causes of Motion of every public transaction, know nothing of, tho necessary for them that would give a valuable History of their times; all the other can transmit to Posterity, is, but a bare Narration of what happened; but we let you understand the true Reason and Cause of that Accident or Council.  Pens. 
What think you, Sir, of Thucydides, who retired to his Country Villa when he writ his History of the Peloponnesian War?  Soc. 
Think of him, Sir! why I think that if he writ his History in the Country, a much better Historian, Cornelius Tacitus, writ his in the City, nay, in the Court; and if Thucydides gives you a faithful account of the losses on both sides, Tacitus does no less; but with it gives you the Causes of each War, the Policies of carrying it on, &c. which was the Effect of his Town-life, and Conversation with the Movements of the Body politic. So while you are studying the Machines of Descartes, we are studying the sublimer ones of the Government of Mankind. Whilst you are pruning your Trees, we are contriving the lopping off such Rotten Members that may disfigure or prejudice the public Weal.  Jov. 
True, Sir, your politics are so plenty here in Town, that there's not a Trader, even from the topping Merchant to the humble Translator, but has his share in modeling the Government; and for fear they should shoot wide of their Mark, the Weekly Observator holds forth in a wretched manner upon Occurrences for their better instruction; but I am confident, as these numerous Politicians can't all, if they clubbed together, make one Machiavil, so that they are more prejudicial to the Government than beneficial. The Coffee-house politics are but fuel to Factions, and Fosterers of ripening Rebellion, both from the Violence of those that are uppermost, and the hot-headed Hopes and Presumptions of those that would be so.  Pens. 
But Mr. Sociable's mentioning politics, has brought to my mind another refuge of those Wretches, who, by that time they come to the Age we mention, have spent all their Paternal Estate, and that is their adhesion to some factious Engagements in Plots and Conspiracies, hoping by a Change of Government, to gain a meliorating change of their pressing and hard Circumstances; and, if they be stirring and zealous men in the Cause they espouse, they certainly obtain encouragement, and gentle subsistence from the Patrons of it.  Jov. 
till some of the Gang discover, and with the ignominy of an Informer, makes sure of a present miserable subsistence, rather than trust futurity, and so brings these State Reformers to tyburn, to do a final Penance for all the Follies of their life; whereas, if they had kept under their own Vine in the Country, they might have left their Family in as good a Reputation and Ability, as they found it, if not better; but now must quit the Stage of Life, like Atheists, or else with doleful Lamentations for their misspent time; tho' they would no more be persuaded from those Follies when they might, than a Dissenter from Pride, and hypocrisy, or an Author from Arrogance.  Pens. 
The like is the Fate of another sort, who are fain to set up for Bullies, and they are either Men of Courage, or at least great Proficients in the Fencing Faculty, or would be thought so: The first makes it their livelihood to be of the Guard du Corps of some Coward of Quality, and is obliged to step in betwixt danger, and his Patron; if he commit some extravagance, or give some affront, the Bully is by way of prevention to engage the Person affronted in a quarrel with him, till at last, after a pecuniary Redemption from two or three murders, he is fairly trust up according to his deserts, tho' not so soon. The other is an arrant Coward, but would put on the face of a desperate and resolute Man, and he is perpetually telling of his Exploits, where he supposes it may render him formidable; but he knows his Men, and before a Man that dares fight, he's as tame and peaceable an Animal as lives, tho' he breaths nothing but blood and wounds where he reigns.  
But he must be better skilled in the Town than I have ever been, that can run through all the desperate methods Men are driven, out of an habitual lasiness and villainous Temper, to live by in this Town.  Jov. 
True, Cousin, 'twould be endless to run through 'em all, and we shall hit upon some others of them, when we come to the several Conversations of the Town, let us therefore proceed to Old Age—  Pen. 
You mean to those few that live to be old, for their number is so small that 'tis scarce worth taking notice of it.  Jov. 
Well, those few whose strong Constitutions, in spite of intemperance, have brought them to gray hairs, having been used to such a habit of Effeminacy, and Lewdness all their lives, cannot yet think of growing serious, and having experienced the punishment of Old Age in their Virile State, fancy they ought now, like the Serpent, to slip their Skin, and put in for Boys Game again. And here renews the Scene of Keeping, for on no other Condition can an Old Letcher Whore, tho' with one that has served half the Town. With these some antiquated Player goes down, and she that has been glad to take up with a Footman in time of yore, is now exalted to the Knight, or Lord, and has allowance sufficient for her either to quit the House, or else to maintain a Spruce young Lover of her own.  Soc. 
Nay, gad Gentlemen, I have not a word to say for those Old Grey-bearded Fornicators, use them as you please, they are the Grievance of the Town, and ought to retire to their Country Seats, and retrieve, or save for their Sons to have their turn in ●he enjoyment of the pleasures of the City. Therefore I care not if I give you a helping hand toward their Condemnation, at least as far as a modest Inuendo will go, that is, as to their preposterous sort of Lust; affecting that which is enough to tame a young Lover, Stripes, Gentlemen, in great abundance; but, indeed, as all their Amours are unnatural, so an account of them is nauseous. But let us consider your Country Sparks of Ninety Nine, their Heads are now grown up to State-Affairs, and when they should be thinking of a Voyage to the Stygian-Lake, they are launching out into the Sea of politics, making Parties for being Kts. of the Shire, squabbling to be Burgesses. Then up they come to Town at the next Session of Parliament, and the House is allarmed with some wondrous danger, their perspicatious eyes have discovered, gathering in a Cloud, and just ready to fall on the Nation: Long Speeches of the Liberty and Property of the Subject diverts the House from dispatching pressing Affairs of State, and so by the procrastination of Resolves cuts off the Opportunities of the Glory of the Nation; being generally ignorant that there is such a Crisis in the Movement of all public Affairs, that if it be let slip, 'tis beyond recovery: They see not the Causes of things, nor are capable of understanding them, any more than a Boy that has not learnt his Grammar, is of the Entity of Reason, and therefore make no quicker a dispatch. Then perhaps, for a Relaxation from public Affairs, the good Old Gentleman takes a turn in the Park, Grays-Inn-Walks, or those of Lincolns-Inn; or may be, out of pure Zeal, or Devotion, goes to hear some Famous Man hold forth, sees some Charming Phillis that is French without, as well as within, that is, that has never a Smock to her cocked Commode; and a painted face above, with the French noblesse raging beneath; is deeply enamoured with her, finds out her Walks, Woos her with ardour, and the persuasive rhetoric of his Estate; gains the Fair one, is married, Pox'd, and Dead in a quarter of a year; the Whore gets a good Jointure, Money, and Health by the Bargain; and this is often the Effects of his Antiquated politics.  
Others are raking and scraping to fill their gabs, and starving both themselves, and their Families in the Country, while their Spendthrift Sons are sending it going by Wholesale here, and before the Curmudgeons die, have dipped most part of their Estates in Judgments, Bonds, and Warrants.  Pen. 
And well he deserves it, that sends his Son to Town for Education; when he might as well think to find Truth in the boasted Cures of an Empiric, the Promises of a Courtier, or in the Rodomontades of a Bully, as Sense, or Good Breeding in London.  Jov. 
But, quitting now Old Age, the Follies of which are so numerous, and far more odious than those of younger years, let us advance to the Conversations of the Town, on which Mr. Sociable pretends to put so great a value, tho' we shall find them as little worth our esteem, as Vain-glory in a Philosopher, Obscurity in a Poet, or Boasting in a soldier.  Pen. 
I can see but two Ends in Conversation, Profit, and Pleasure; the improvement, or diversion of the mind; and if it deviate from this, or tend wholly to diversion, 'tis certainly faulty.  Jov. 
But the Conversation of the Town, tends, strictly speaking to neither; and only gratifies Hate, or Lust; the exposing the absent, Enemies or not, is never considered, the absent being lawful prise for laughter; or else their Discourse is running over their Amours in their lewd dress. So that 'tis evident that there is nothing that can contribute to the improvement of the Mind.  Pens. 
And I am sure the Mind can delight in nothing that does not in some measure yield a benefit to it.  Soc. 
A pretty regulation of Conversation this, if I mistake not! So that you would reduce the World to that pass, that every Company should be an Academy, or a Convivium Philosophorum; ha! ha! ha! but I am of much a contrary Opinion; I think that Conversation was ordained for the passing away our idle hours with pleasure: Thus far however I'll agree with you, as to grant it should sometimes be considered as an improvement, when we endeavour for the converse of Men of Sense and Wit, which may bring us to a habit of talking wittily. But for your grave starched Debates of the Motion of the Earth, the Magnetical Quality of the Load-stone, the Saline Quality of the Sea, and such Speculations over a Bottle of good Wine, is perverting the use on't, and is as odd as Steeple-Hats for the Beaus of Covent-Garden, or a Ruff or Farthingale for the Ladies, deserving rather our laughter, than admiration.  Jov. 
Then you are for no Conversation, but in a Tavern, Sociable?  Soc. 
Yes, yes, Jovial, I am for Conversing in a Lady's Chamber too; where you would make a very pretty Figure, with your Systems and Hypotheses: When you should be talking of the Beauties of the Lady that entertains you, the spreading Conquests of her eyes, and the torment of your heart, which is one of her Captives.  Jov. 
And so to every Lady you come to— Well, but if we permit you to talk of Love and Torments in a Lady's Chamber, of News, and New Plays in a Coffee-House, of the Cheats of the Vintners at the Tavern, will you allow no Man time nor place for more substantial Discourse? Must Bawdry, and Quibbles take up a whole nights Conversation, and that from Night to Night all the Year round? This is but at best a Repetition of the same thing in another dress, a more plausible tho' more Criminal sort of Tautology, since the Repetition consists in that which once to mention is nauseous, and consequently too often.  Soc. 
Therefore to avoid the cloying ourselves with the same Dish, we vary our Company, and so meet with variety of Wit, and always something New, and Surprising. Whereas in the Country, you must be content with such as your thin Neighbourhood affords you; or for better, ride as far as the Jews of old went to Church; but here in Town, Company is more numerous, out of which you may cull enough to pass the leisure hours with pleasure.  Pen. 
Leisure hours, Sir! why such are all your hours, I think; for I can perceive nothing you do but Eat, Drink, and Whore, and so to Bed; moving perpetually in this miserable thoughtless circled.  Jov. 
But, my dear Sociable, methinks there is not variety enough in your Conversation, even as you represent it, for one Night; if Obscenity and Intrigue be all your Discourse, you must be forced to a repetition of the matter, if not of the manner.  Soc. 
Why you fancy now our Meetings like yours in the Country, where two or three Grave Justices of the Quorum meet together, and are fain to sit silent half the time, unless they call in the Landlord to break a dry jest; because they know not what to say, when they have once run through the Adventures of their Jurisdiction, the Price of Corn, the falling or rising of Rents, and such their usual Topics, unless they begin again; but you take a wrong notion of our Societies from them; here we always have a numerous Club, sometimes of a dozen, seldom under ten; and then by that time one has done with his Intrigues, the next has fresh Adventures to impart, or some Poetic Essay perhaps to Communicate, and so we never want Discourse, nor ever are troubled with the same—  Jov. 
The same words you mean, for I am sure the same matter, as I have said, is fain to serve you, only cooked up in several manners. And as for your valuing your Company for being so many, I find you have forgot that of the incomparable cow— Few Friends, and true; many Books, and good. And of such is our Conversation and Studies composed. Nor do we envy your Societies for being so full, since we are satisfied that hurry and much Company contribute not at all to their perfection; else the Noisy Pit, and the buzzing Change, would be the most agreeable places of Converse. Whereas we had rather confine our Meetings to the number of the Graces, than extend them to that of the Muses, much less go beyond them; unless where public Affairs engage a more general Meeting, which we reckon among the eccentric hours of our Lives.  Soc. 
You seem to brand our Conversations with the infamy of barrenness in Discourse, and that we are confined to the same thing eternally, which in my Opinion fits yours much better; the manuring of your Lands, the fancied Interests of your Precincts, the improvement of your Clover-grass, the best Receipt of making cider keep, and the most useful Traps to catch Vermin, with the learned Common places I have mentioned but now, take up all your Discourses. While we are regal'd with the sprightly efforts of fancy, and all the World is the subject of our Entertainment.  Jov. 
Eternal Rovings indeed, take up all your time and Employment, and therefore 'tis no wonder your Discourse is of the same stamp. But if I should grant you that variety you contend for, yet I can never think perpetual Chat on whatever comes uppermost, without coherence, or design, can merit any Name but that of egregious trifling, below the Converse of schoolboys.  Pens. 
But ours is that of Rational Men; for one Gentleman employs himself in Study, and with him we improve in Speculations; another in Experimental Observations, which give us a light into the Wonders of Nature, and Material Beings; then what Noble delight to compare and see how the Theory and practise agree, and how they differ. One is busied in Gard'ning, another in Agriculture, &c. And thus our Conversation with ease and Pleasure brings us to the knowledge of Nature in all her parts, sooner than Dining at Pontack's, or the Blew-Posts, or Locket's about Six in the Evening; than by spending the Day in Sleep, the Night in Drinking, and Working; than by boasting of Intrigues they never arrived to; so robbing those of their Reputation, whom they could not of their Honour.  Jov. 
But for the gaining of the knowledge of Mankind, for which, Mr. Sociable seemed to value the Town-life; the most skilful is but a Bungler at it, I mean of those that keep the most Company, their Knowledge seldom reaching any further than those with whom they have had a long and personal Acquaintance; with a Stranger they are as far to seek, as the most Solitary Country Man, nay and farther, if he have but a little insight into the nature of the Passions, and their effects on the outward appearance; the best sort of physiognomy. These Gentlemen of the Town know Man so little, that they cannot distinguish between apparent dissimulation, and reality, especially if the first seem the least inclining to their advantage. Hence proceeds such a medley in their Companies, and Meetings; chance, and not inclination and Reason guiding them in the Choice; they Select such to spend those hours with, in which they design to indulge themselves the most, as ought rather with the greatest caution to be avoided. On the other hand, those that would pass for very curious in culling out their Company, generally err as much; the Boon Companion, that is, in plain English, a Rake-hell, is much caressed; and this is one that drinks for drink's sake, that makes himself not only his own, but the God of all that keep him Company; his words are Oracles with them; and 'tis looked upon as a great scandal, if any of them fall short of his Pint Glass, or his Blasphemous or Treasonable Jest; or rather than fail, a Health to the Devil, or at least Friendly and Sociable Damnation to one another. Such are the Topping Heroes of the Tavern, into whose Company 'tis no small happiness to be admitted, tho' they value none but for their own present diversion, not caring a straw when the midnight Deboach is over, if all the Company were sent to the Devil, either by civilly breaking their own necks, or decently cutting one anothers throats; which would at worst serve for a pleasant raillery in the next Club.  Pen. 
A very prudent Choice, to caress those as Friends, who would no more contribute Sixpence to the subsistence of him that had spent all his Youth and Estate in their Conversation, than a College-Physician would to the maintenance of a broken Quack.  Jov. 
Nor could they expect any better from them, that would spare neither God, nor their King, if they stood in competition with a wretched Jest.  
Then for the demure modest Man, or rather he that obtains that name; he's only a sly Species of cowardice, that is complaisant in all Companies, admiring every one before his face, but laughing and jeering in a clumsy manner to the next Confident they meet: This Spark is cringing, and proffering his Service to every one, but worse at performance than a Courtier.  Pens. 
But pray, Mr. Jovial, let us not dwell thus upon Generals, but take a view of the Particulars, and then see what pleasure the enjoyment of their Company affords.  Jov. 
Let's therefore divide their Conversations into their several parts, as that of the City, and that of this end of the Town.  Pens. 
To begin therefore with this end of the Town, as the most honourable, being the resort and rendzvous of Quality; let us consider them under their several Denominations, as Beaus, Rakehells, and Wits.  Jov. 
A mere Beau is a Creature compounded of Peruque, Cravat and Cravat-string, and fine clothes; a Pocket Looking-glass, and Pocket Comb, Perfumes and Pulvillio's, fine Coach and fine Equipage; an Amorous glance, a white Hand, and Diamond Ring on Finger; he's more skilful in Fashions, and the nicety of the making a Coat and Breeches than a tailor, in Silks and Ribbons than a Mercer or Milliner; and so in all the Trades and Professions that go to the making him up, or at least, fancies himself to be so; his Discourse is of nothing but Billet doux, Amorous Intrigues, or the Lovesick Ladies that are dying for him; but chiefly, the Modes and Dresses of both Men and Women; as, who dresses best, who most adroit wears his Hat or her Commode; who adjusts his Peruque with the best Grace, or her wanton Curls with the most taking Air, has the most curious fancy in the choice of his Stockings, or her Manto; the nicest judgement in the cuts of his Sleeve or Pocket, the best mien in his Motion, the greatest Majesty in his sitting still: His places of resort are Covent Garden Church about Ten, if he can get up so early, the Park, the Play, and Tom. Wraine's Coffee-house, which indeed is the Tiring or Dressing-room, before he either goes to act his part in a Ladies Chamber, or to Ogle the Nymphs in the Boxes or Musick-meetings: Here he makes his advances to the Glass, pulls out his Comb, discriminates the Curls, which perhaps by the incivility of the Air had been entangled: Here he practices his several Postures, and runs over his short Inventory of Thoughts, that he may cull out, according to the depth of his judgement, what is most killing with the Fair. His secret and most retired Entertainment is to practise a new Dance, Song or Bow: He is never easy in a svit, tho' never so fresh, if he happen to meet with one of a newer Cut, or Mode; Dress and Intrigue are all his Study. What abundance of Pleasure therefore must his Conversation afford!  Pens. 
But there is another Class of Beaus, who are Candidates for Wit too, and they have the additionary ensign of their pre-eminence, a Snuffbox, with the white hand twirl'd up con licentia signior, to every Box that is opened, which thing alone is enough to qualify him for a Wit, and therefore we'll place him among the Wits, and here pass to the Rake-hells.  Jov. 
A Rake-hell, in his proper definition, according to the Opinion of the Learned of that Fraternity, is one, that will play away his hundred pound at sight, Tilt at sight,( that is, without Thought or Consideration) and Whore at sight, and Drink at sight; and whoever passes these dgrees, has been adjudged of the Family of the Rakehellonims, qualified according to Law, and without which no Man can lawfully assume that name, any more than a place at Court without taking the Test and Oaths. His other Exploits are but effects of these Qualifications, as engaging with the Watch, breaking of Windows, beating up the Quarters of the Bawd, that commands a Squadron of Wenches to her Relief; bilking of Whores and Coachmen, outfacing a Dun, and breaking the Creditor's Head that asks for his Money, kicking the Drawer down Stairs; to omit Oaths and Imprecations, more numerous than other Words. Blasphemy and Treason are Trifles they never stick at: Friendship he has none; Honour he has none; nor any Love but Lust, or Pleasure but Drinking, being a Devote to Drunkenness. His other Qualifications we have had already, so that this Spark is like to yield wonderful Pleasure in Discourse, fit for a Rational Man!  Soc. 
This Extravagance affords Diversion enough now and then:— But what say you to the Men of Wit? I hope their Conversation is of a higher Degree in your Esteem?  Jov. 
Truly, very little;— The Wits, indeed, are of a large Extent, and afford a Spacious Field of Consideration, of which very few are worth Conversing with, at the expense of our Time, and Happiness, in living in Town for their sakes. They are divided into critics and Authors: The critics in general, are every one that has Money to Buy, or Leisure and Patience enough for to red; even from the Groom to the Lord, from the apprentice to the Alderman, from the Chambermaid to the Countess, from the little Miss in the Nursery, to the grave Matron in her Closet; from the Beardless Boy to the Grey and Honourable Head of Old Age. But more precisely speaking, this Appellation is properly circumscribed to the Compass of Covent Garden, and the Inns of Court, and they easily set up; for a pretty good Assurance, a Familiarity with an Author of the lower Class, or a sight of one of the first Form, with a Condemning-Face on all that is spoken of, or red; dubs any one an uncontrovertible critic; for there is, as they suppose, a wonderful deal of Wit in finding fault; that is, in the absence of the Author they condemn; for 'tis a General Rule, with very few Exceptions, to Damn the Absent, and Extol the Present. But if they arrive to the p●r●ness of speaking Decisively of any thing, with a Tinsel Reason at the end on't, they are admitted as unappealable Judges in point of Wit and Criticisms, tho they have borrowed their Notion from some other, and which, it may be, has passed through more hands than the Money in their Pockets; yet whilst they are in possession of it, they pled as equal a right to that, as to the other; and to say Truth, to deny 'em that privilege, would render them very silent, and as poor in Critical Nonsense, as to stop the Circulation of Money would both Traders and Gentlemen in the Purse.  Pens. 
He that can give a piercing judgement of some admirable Passage in the last dull Prologue, brings all the Authors to his aweful Tribunal, as often as they appear in Print; and all the Fry of Minor critics follow with Implicit Faith, all his Opinions for the future.  Jov. 
To say the Truth of the Matter, As the destruction of Pipes is the multiplication of Stoppers, so the destruction of Authors Reputations is the multiplication of critics; for one Author that is damned, shall set up at least half a hundred of them. And for the Conversation of these Sparks, one would no more choose it, than the Sessions of Oyer and Terminer, where nothing but Hell and Damnation makes up all the Discourse: Put them out of their Road upon any thing of Moderation, and Indifferent Matters, and they are as mute as so many Fishes, till the least opportunity offers itself for them to catch hold of, to repeat their Nauseous Observations, viz. That this Verse did not rhyme well, that was a little too rough, without any regard to the Sense of it; that being beyond their Talent.  Soc. 
Gad, you are as tedious upon these Locusts of Conversation, as the Ordinary of Newgate in his Prefatory Introductions to the woeful Catastrophe of a Pick-pocket; or an old decayed Gentlewoman, in running over the endless topic of her Pedigree; as if you were afraid to come to the Test of our Men of true Sense and Wit.  Jov. 
What do you mean? Your Composers of Songs to Sylvia, Phillis, Cloris, and Clemene? Your everlasting Murderers of Horace, Ovid, and the rest of the Roman Wits, for the sake of the Booksellers? Are those your Hero's? The first have all their Wit and Discourse bounded with the melting Charms of Sylvia, the winning Eyes of Cloris, the snowy Bosom of Phillis, and the pretty Hand of Clemene; the Cruelty of one Fair one, the Sweetness of another, the Sigh of a Third, and the Voice of a Fourth; and tho' one would imagine, that use( which gives Perfection very often) should make them perfect Masters in the Description of Beauty and Passion; yet, alas, their Barren Minds and Fancies produce nothing but Eternal Wretched Tautologies that the heaviest thoughts dullness could furnish, or their lighter Amouretts inspire. That of the incomparable Hudibras may very well flow from the Consideration of the Essays of thess Candidates of Wit, and Aspirers to the Bays: 
would it not make one strange,  
That some Mens Fancies should ne're change,  
That they should always do and say  
The self same thing the self same way?  This Conversation( I mean, their Discourse; for I would not have you imagine, I think 'em guilty of Constancy in any thing, where they are capable of altering) is of the same unchangeable nature with their Writings; if they have any thing tolerable, you have it the first time you see them, and 'twould be to put yourself into the Circumstance of a needless Repetition, ever to come near 'em more: Then for the other, the greater part of them are not capable of understanding the easiest Verse in all Horace, Ovid, or Virgil, or any other of the latins, and only build themselves the Reputation of Scholars, on the Labours of Mr. Creech, or Brome's Translation of Horace by several Hands; Sandy's Ovid's Metamorphoses, or a wretched old Version of Ovid's Epistles, by some Anonymous Author, or Ogleby's Virgil, most of which they borrow from, and even fall short of their Excellence. And if you should chance to ask 'em in Company, how they came to render such a Verse or Word so, and so, they are as much to seek, as a certain Author that would pretend to do an Ode from the Greek, was, when he was posed in the very Alphabet. Their Discourse, indeed, generally is on the great Wit of Horace, the Softness of Ovid, the Majesty of Virgil, the Waggishness of Catullus, &c. tho' they have no other knowledge of them, than what they gather from former Translators, or the Opinion of some of our mayor Domo's of the Muses, who have not forgot the Consequences of In Speech, and the Rudiments of the Latin Tongue so far, but they can red something of them with the help of large Annotations; and all the Observations they find there, they give out in their Mother Tongue for their own; and so pass for profoundly skilled in the Languages.  Soc. 
Nor these, Mr. Jovial, do I reckon among the Regales of Conversation, or the Men of Wit and Sense, tho' I confess, they aspire to that Reputation and Name.  Pens. 
Much worse qualified tho', in my Opinion, than Catiline for the Consulship.  Soc. 
Or a Country Girl for the Intrigues of the Town, or a Modest Man for a Bully. But since you can't be so biggotted to your Country Converse, as to deny us the Happiness of the greatest Wits in the World to Associate with, and whose Company raises our Conversible Hours to the highest pitch.  Jov. 
Faith, Mr. Sociable, you have had much better Luck than I, if you have met with such wondrous Excellence in their Company; tho' I must confess, I would fain know what you mean by your Wits?  Soc. 
Mean? Why I mean such as are really so; Men whose Writings have ravished that Name from Envy and Ignorance, and established their Reputation, even with the Age to come.  Jov. 
Oh, ho! you mean, I perceive, our other Division, your Authors— but of these, do you mean your Men of Kidney, learned in the profound Art of Banter, where Fancy flows in like a Torrent, and does the Work without the help of judgement, of the Class of Merry-Andrew and Jack-Pudding, only exalted from the Scaffold to the Press? This is far enough from being Wit, in my Opinion, tho' it goes down with raw Youths at the Universities, Clerks of the Minor Inns of Court, Prentices, and Chambermaids; or, perhaps, old grave Dons, that have been poring over a Confutation of Bellarmine, the future Occurrences of Time, and the Catastrophe of the World, and a Hundred Tomes of Controversial Divinity, may take a light Trifle for the digestion of those heavier ones they are continually Conversant with, more agreeable in their natures than at first you may imagine, for both end without any Satisfaction to the Readers, by Evidence of what they are employed about; when you have red the one you are as far to seek as when you sat down, or perhaps, farther; and when you have run over the other, you'll be at a stand to know what the Author aimed at. These sort of Authors, I think, deserve no higher Title than Drolls; and their Conversation is so correspondent to their Study, that they never speak any thing to the purpose; so that their Persons as well as Writings are a Ridiculous Riddle, I would give no more to be skilled in, than I would to the Assigns of Tom. Saffold, of happy Memory, for his Receipt of Purging Pills.  Pens. 
Their highest Excellence, is, to joke upon the Drawer, to banter the Vintner, to bilk their Lodgings, to shame their Bookseller, to Ridicule Religion, and laugh at Solid Learning. Their only Business is in inquiring into the Vices or Follies of one, or another; to stuff their Papers with Scandal, or in purloining of Jests from the Company, which they present the Town with in their next Essay, for their own.  Jov. 
The Cant of Alsatia, a Book of Merry Tales, a Common-Place-Book of similes, gathered, as you observed, from every Company they come in, sets them up.  Soc. 
And yet shall a Country Squire give Ten Pound to be admitted into his Company, and treat all that are present into the bargain.  Jov. 
If any such there be, they deserve what they meet with, that is, to be abused and laughed at for Blockheads when they are gone.— These are Men, indeed, of more Tongue than many of the rest of the Scribes, for their Reputation and subsistence depend on their diverting the Company; and there you shall hear half a Hundred times over the Beauties of their next piece of Banter they are to publish; not a pretty Story, or Airy Jest but has been made free of all the Companies they keep, for a Month or two before the World sees it in Mood and Form. Then all Mankind, that they know, are the Subjects of their signiories, till some ill Fate brings it to the Ear of a Morose Gentleman that's abused,— the Wits are thrashed, and basely submits to the Correction; and in this wretched manner are their Lives spent, as is very well described by an unknown Author.  
The World may well forgive him all his Ill,  
For every fault does prove his Penance still.  
Easily he falls into some dangerous Noose,  
And then, as meanly labours to get loose:  
A Life so Infamous, is better quitting,  
Spent in base Injuring, and low Submitting.  
But the greatest Banter of their Life, is, when they pretend to be Serious, and apply themselves to Argument and Reason; for they are made of such an odd Composition, that their most grave Endeavours run naturally into Ridicule.  Pens. 
Enough, I think, of these wretched scribblers, whose famed is built on Scandal, and whose Wit lies in unaccountable Trifling; the End of whose Living and Writing is the same, Merry and Short, without Thought or Design.  Soc. 
I have seen you laugh, Mr. Jovial, very hearty at the Discourse and Books of a certain great Master of Banter  Jov. 
True, Mr. Sociable; but it was for the same Reason that I laugh at a Country Scraper, when he attempts to play on the Fiddle, or a Country Peasant, when he attempts a Dance; that is, for the affencted aukerdness of it: 'Tis plain, we are dwindling down to our Primitive dullness, and the decay of our Common Sense is very visible, when we value ourselves upon Banter and Epigrams( the next Door to Dutch acrostics) and puff those Sots up with Admiration, who have nothing of Solid or True Wit in them.  Pens. 
As for most of your other Wits, of Authors, they reserve their whole Stock of Wit for their Works, so that if you would Converse with them with Pleasure, you must be as seldom as may be in their Company, for that is the dullest in the World.  Soc. 
Why, you alter in your Judgements, Gentlemen, like a Clergy-man, that has the advantage of a good bnfice in view; you valued not Conversation but now, for much talk; and now you condemn it for little.  Pens. 
Oh, Sir, there's a Medium in all things, Silence and Chat are distant enough to have a convenient Discourse come between 'em; and thus far I agree with you, that the Company of the Author of Absalom and Achitophel is more valuable, tho' not so talkative, than that of the Modern Men of Banter; for what he says, is like what he writes; much to the purpose, and full of mighty Sense; and if the Town were for any thing desirable, 'twere for the Conversation of him, and one or two more of the same Character.  Jov. 
But I have seen your Wits silence this Great Man by multiplicity of words, with little to commend them but a very great assurance.  
Pens. The Conversation of your other Poets is compounded of Arrogance, and Ill Nature; for to speak in Commendation of an absent Author in any of their Companies, is almost High Treason.  Jov. 
Nay, one had better say on gentle word of Lewis in a Zealous Coffee-House; and the least Penalty you can expect, is the Abdication of your Company; and you are favourably dealt with, if you come off so; for, ten to one you are brought in for Cakes and Ale in the next Prologue, or for a Fop or Fool in the next new Farce, or lashed in a Preface with a squinting Reflection that looks a hundred ways at once.  Pens. 
In your Comical Poet's Company you shall be teiz'd with one damned Impertinence or other; the Severity of the critics, the senselessness of the Age that can't relish all the Beauties of their Endeavours; and tho perhaps the most insipid Farce in Nature shall rail at the ill nature of the Town, that could not relish his Scourers, &c. Another that has Success, and no Merit, vaunts it with the highest ovation, and wants but the laurel to make it a formal Triumph, at which he grasps with all the Claws of Lirick, Pindarick, &c. Glories in the just Reflections that are made on his Performances, as the Impotent Efforts of Envy; and ev'ry Company he is in, he thinks obliged to hear all his Impertinencies: The whole Progress of his Writing his last Play, even to the minutest Action, Position of his Body, as Nostradamus does of his placing himself for prophesy, with his Great to on a Brass Kettle, his Fore-Finger on his Mouth, &c. as if the World were so highly intrest'd in their Affairs, as to be obliged to take notice of their silly and private Follies; whereas their public ones, are enough to tyre us, without an industrious discovering of private ones. Nay, and 'tis well he has no Philosophy, he would else give you ev'ry Motion of the Soul in the Operation; and how many Capers it cut at the production of any Notable Jest in his Scenes.  Jov. 
If you're of his Acquaintance( for he's intimate with every one) he certainly informs you of the most secret Intrigues of his Life; how many believing innocent Ladies he has debauched, and Forsaken, or made his pennyworth of, unless he owe you Money; then all Intrigues of advantage are kept behind the Scenes: However, he'll tell you, That from that Spark he drew such a Character, from that Lady another; tho' to the first he has been obliged beyond what his little Abilities, and by far less Soul, is able to return; and by the other, used with that Freedom and Civility, as if he had been a Gentleman, because he wore a Sword and fine clothes, had a boon Assurance in his Address, and something else, perhaps, that pleased her Ladyship so well, as to betray her Discretion into a Familiarity with him: The height of his Conversation is a Song, Drink-about Dick, and a Story of old Rowly.  Pens. 
Then for your tragic Man of Mettle;( for, Sir, you must know, these Wits have all found my Cousin out at the Tavern, since he came to Town, that so every day we have had more novelty of Wits than Wine or Dishes) his Conversation is as sonorous as his Verse: Once will give you your Belly full of either.  Jov. 
A great many of them are much fitter, I confess, for Ax-Yard, or the Mitre, to Chronicle the famous Lives of the Memorable Knights of the Post, than for Play-writers. All they do as well as writ, seems done by chance; and if any thing would make me think Beasts Machines, 'twould be these Goliah's of the Mount of Parnassus; for they are angry without cause, pleased without amends, laugh without any sign of Satisfaction or Pleasure, are silent when they should speak, and talkative when they should say nothing; the Booksellers Drudges and Bubbles, the Player's Slave, and every Man's Humble Servant: Some are something humble, I must confess, in the reading of their Works, when just come out of the Mint of their Fancy, for they trouble none but the Judicious Baker, the Jolly Translator, of Shoes, I mean, not Authors, to whom they red their blundring Passion of distressed Innocence, in a Tone that frightens the admiring Auditors into wonder and amazement. Mr. Sociable, I hope you will not much contend for the mighty happiness of these Sparks Conversation.  Soc. 
Prithee, as thou lov'st me, Jovial, rak not into the Ashes of the Dead; for so these Sparks are, as to Reputation and Conversation, this many a fair Year. But we have a new Generation of Authors and Poets sprung up, Men of Learning, and curious Sceptical Geniuses, that discove the grosser Ignorances, or Errors of ther greatest Men of the last Age.  Jov. 
With not one single qualification of Excellence, to give 'em Authority for so doing! Mean you, your Collectors, Dedicators, and Prefacemakers; from the Voiture of the Second Edition, to the D— f— 's Epistle-Writer, or Jurnalists, Mercurists; or under what Denomination do you rank ' em? But which ever you please to Select, Vanity, and a little superficial Glosses, are their chief Talents; what they gather from the Labours of others, either in their own, or the French Language, they seize without acknowledgement, and pass off for their own. 'Tis true, some of this younger Fry, I believe will e're't belong, fill up Nat. lees vacant place in Moor-fields; they are so Mad already with Poetry, that all Places and People they pass, are not safe from the onsets of their rhymes. Boileau has very well described the Offspring of Crispinus, in his Art of Poetry, in the Fourth Canto.  
Quelques Verse toute fois qu' Apollon vous inspire,  
En tout lieux ausi-tost, ne courez pas less lyre.  
Gardez vous d'imiterce Rimeur furieux  
Qui de ses vain Ecrits lecteur harmonieux.  
Aborde en recitant qui conque le Salüe  
E pure svit de less verse less passans dans la rüe.  
Il n'est Temple si saint des Anges respect,  
Qui soit contre sa Muse en beiu de securetè  
Which Sir. William Solmes has thus rendered into English.  
Yet, when Apollo does your Muse inspire,  
Be not impatient to expose your fire;  
Nor imitate the Settles of our Times,  
Those Tuneful Readers of their own dull Rhymes,  
Who seize on all th' Accquaintance they can meet,  
And stop the Passengers that walk the Street  
There is no Sanctuary you can choose,  
For a Defence from that pursuing Muse.  
The Vanity of some of those, is so superlative, that their Conversation is to persecute you with the perusal of their Pockets full of Papers: But the plague on't is, they would needs have this unreasonable Punishment pass for a Favour, a wonderful confiding effect of Friendship; whereas, 'tis no more than what every one, they have the least knowledge of, is obliged with. Their own Vanity, nourished by the ill-natured praise of such as have a mind to make a perpetual Diversion( such a one as it 'tis) of them to the Town, blinds them so, that they cannot see how they are the Sport and Laughter of every Company they come into. Arrogance and Vanity, are nauseous in the Best, unpardonable in the Worst, it lessons our just Esteem of the first, and breeds the highest, and therefore justest Contempt for the last.  Pens. 
As for the Wits of Quality, as an ill-natured Lampoon, an indifferent Version, or, at most, some trifle of a Play, is sufficient to establish them as such, so their Quality secures them against the Attacks of Critics, at least, in Print; for Scandalum Magnatum is the Devil: And therefore we'll pass them over in silence, as moving in a a Sphere of their own, and are not often so Excentic to mingle with the rest, unless with some young topping Wit, that sprouts out of a sudden, like a Mushroom in a Night, with some new Paradox to usher him into the World.  Jov. 
The Courtiers, I am sure, will never be esteemed any of the best Companions; their Heads are too much taken up with politics and Designs, tho' seldom to any purpose; one would avoid their Conversation any where, but never be so mad to seek it at Court, where every one endeavours by Malice, Falsities well concealed, and Contention, to out another, merely for his own Advantage, without any regard to the Service of the Prince their Master; whose highest Favours would be of less esteem, if placed without detriment to any other, being most valued, when they are raised upon an others Ruin. But the incomparable Spencer describes the Court very well; as it has generally in all Ages merited the good Word of the Poets, especially when they speak their Minds: In their Flatteries of Great Men, we may observe a Violence offered to themselves, and some words cast in, lest the World should think they meant really what they writ; but when they speak against the Court, you may easily see they are in earnest: But now to Spencer, I'll repeat 'em; for the delight I took in 'em, made me learn them without book.  
Cause have I none, quoth he, of cancred Will,  
To quit them ill, that me demeaned so well:  
But Self-regard, of private Good, or Ill,  
Moves me of each, so, as I found to tell;  
And eke, to warn young Shepherd's wandring Wit,  
Which thro' the Port of that Lifes painted Bliss,  
Abandon Quiet home, to seek for it,  
And leave their Lambs to loss, misled amiss.  
Forsooth, to say, it is no sort of Life,  
For Shepherd fit to led in that same place,  
Where each one seeks, with Malice, and with Strife,  
To thrust down other into foul disgrace,  
Himself to raise; and he doth soonest rise,  
That best can handle his deceitful Wit,  
In subtle Shifts, and finest sleights device;  
Either by stand'ring his well deemed Name,  
Through Leasings lewd, and feigned Forgery;  
Or else by breeding him some Blot of Blame,  
By creeping close into his secrecy;  
To which him needs a guileful hollow Heart,  
Masqu'd with fair dissembling courtesy,  
A filled Tongue, furnished with terms of Art:  
No Art of School, but Courtiers Schoolery;  
For Arts of School, have their small Countenance,  
Counted but Toys to busy idle Brains;  
And their Professors, find small Maintenance,  
But to be Instruments of others gains.  
Ne●is there place for any gentle Wit,  
Unless to please, itself it can apply;  
But shouldered is, or out of doors quiter shut,  
As base or blunt, unmeet for Melody.  
For each Man's Worth is measured by the Weed,  
As Harts by Horns, or Asses by their Ears;  
Yet Asses be not all, whose Ears exceed;  
Nor yet all Harts that Horns highest bears.  
For highest Looks have not the highest Mind,  
Nor haughty Words, most full of highest Thoughts;  
But are like Bladders blown up with wind,  
That being pricked, do vanish into nought.  
even such ●s all their vaunted Vanity,  
Nought else but Smoke, that fumeth soon away;  
Such is their Glory, that in simplo Eye,  
Seem greatest, when their Garments are most gay.  
So they themselves, for praise of Fools do sell,  
And all their Wealth for painting on a Wall;  
With price whereof, they buy a golden Bell,  
And purchase highest Rooms in Bower, and Hall;  
Whilst single Truth, and simplo Honesty,  
Do wander up and down, despised by all;  
Their plain Attire, such glorious Gallantry  
Disdains so much, that none them in doth call.  
I'll make no Apology for the Length of the Quotation, because I am sure, Mr. Sociable, you are no little admirer of Spencer.  Soc. 
Prithee, in what part of that Poet is this? For I don't remember it.  Jov. 
'Tis in his Colin Clouts, come home again.  Pens. 
Methinks the Courtiers may be divided into the Statesman, that makes his Market of the Crown; and those of lesser hopes and capacities, who instead of getting, spend Estates, to kiss their Leaders behind; and lastly, into those who have no other thoughts, but to earn, or advance, the salary they have got, by blustering and Noise in Taverns, and Coffee-Houses, by forcing every one to Drink the King's Health.  Jov. 
In short, we'll dismiss 'em with the words of Honest Otway.  
What Man of Sense would wrack his Generous Mind,  
To practise all those base Formalities,  
And Forms of Business; force a grave starched Face,  
When he's a very Libertine in's Heart?  
Seem not to know this or that Man in public,  
When Privately, perhaps, they meet together,  
And lay the Scene of some Brave Fellow's ruin.  Soc. 
But, Mr. Jovial, you are so possessed with Indignation, that you can't see all the Gentlemen of Parts, that make us happy in their Conversation. What think you of the Lawyers, and Scholars? For we have our Philosophers, Physicians, Mathematicians, and Historians too; this last is the Noblest Study, as you yourselves seemed to intimate but now, and I think this most worthy a Gentleman.  Pens. 
Well remembered, Sir, we'll take them in the order you have put them; and, as for your Lawyers, I think we have been plagued enough with their Conversation since we came to Town; The Councellors shall lengthen out their Discourses, as they do their Bills in Chancery, with a thousand superfluous Words; you shall have nothing from them but trials of Causes, Presidents, John-a-Noaks, and John-a-Stiles, Tenants entail, levying of Fines, the Lessor, and the Lessee, the Mortgager, and the Mortgagee; the Terms and Quirks of the Law, to show that all our Estates and Properties are at their mercy; few Conveyances being made so sure, but one or another of their Brotherhood, if they get a sight of your Writings, shall find a flaw in ' em. Then, for the under Classes of them. Attorneys, solicitors, and Pettifoggers; Bills, Judgements, Bonds, Warrants and Writs make up most of their talk; not forgetting Procuration, and Forbearance, Packing of Juries, and Managing of Bail; and an endless pack of Knaveries, none but themselves can discover.  Jov. 
Then for the younger Sparks of the Inns of Court, who are placed there by their Fathers, to study the Law; they adorn all their Studies with the Poets, and fill their heads with Lampoons, Songs, and Burlesque, instead of Cook upon Littleton, and Assignations, Billet-deux, &c. fill up their Tablets, whilst their Common-Place-Books are empty.  Pens. 
Then, for your scholars, as you imagine them; they abound a thousand times more with Pedantry, than such as you found out in the Country; your Philosopher shall be talking of nothing but Systems, Phoenomena's, Aristotle, Plato, Pythagoras, or Descartes, and Male branch, &c. tho they be neither Aristotelian, nor Cartesian, sometimes Hobbists, generally sceptics: But you are often imposed upon by Names, and take them for Philosophers, who are only Masters of some General Notions, and the Names of the several parts of Philosophy, with those of the Authors; these you shall have continually talking of the Bramins, the Caldaick Philosophy, the Sabeans, Confucins, and the Chinese; not to mention Zoroaster, and Paracelsus.  Jov. 
Your Physicians Discourse is clogged with Terms of Art, all their Epithets drawn from their Profession; as Deflegm'd, rectified, Chasm, &c. as if they were always at a Lecture, or else are pretending mighty practise, to get into practise. Besides, they are generally very talkative; and assuming as if they were to be Dictators in ev'ry Company they come in.  Pens. 
Your Mathematicians, like the rest, are either superficially learned, or else so abounding in their own Study, that they are troublesone to all Companies with it; for they shall fill all their Discourse with Triangles, Quadrangles, Obtuse, Oblong, Cubes, Cilinders, Cones, Squaring the circled, the Perpetual motion; nay, some will give us a Geometrical Problem for the demonstration of the Trinity.  Jov. 
As for your Historians, here you must expect nothing but all the former Ages Exalted to the Sky, or else levelled to the Ground; and all the Vices of our Age only Repetitions of what has been done all along; they are generally Men of no Medium, but continually in extremes; very often wondrous Politicians, which they arrive to by the application of all Transactions of Times past, to our present, or even to our own Country, without any consideration of the difference of the climb, the Constitution of the Government, the Inclinations of the People, and other Circumstances, before they draw their Consequences: Then for your General Scholar, as you miscall him, he is one that has a Smattering in ev'ry thing, but nothing thoroughly; and his Discourse is a Confusion much like that of Babel; from Divinity, to the opening an Oyster Mathematically; he has a continual Road of rambling Talk, which, when he has done, he begins again.  Pens. 
But you have both forgot the Man Divine.  Soc. 
' Gad, abundance of them are Boon Blades, and love a Bottle and a Bona-Roba as well as myself; but their Scandalous Coat gives such an ill relish to Sin, that I had rather be without their Company, than with it.  Jov. 
Faith, Dear Sociable, were I to choose my Company, I could pick some of the best from out of these Men of the rob, tho, ' for the most part of them, Pride and Ignorance make them very unpleasant; but they have been the Subject of satire to too many far me to take notice of them, who value their Character more, than to discover the Nakedness of it by the Follies of some that bear it.  Pens. 
And with the Ministry, I would dismiss the soldiery, now more than half Apostolical Missionaries, Fighting for Religion in the Fields, as the other do in the Pulpit. But as 'tis Profane to lash the first, so 'tis not safe to attack the latter.  Jov. 
They that blend Mars and Minerva together, or possess the latter in both her Capacities; for though their Conversation be either of Blood and Slaughter, of Escapes, Onsets, Rapes, Murders, Storming of Towns and Cupboards, plundering of Cities, and Hen-Roosts; Stratagems, Sieges and Battles, Precedence of Squadrons, Punctillio's of Salute, whether with pulling off the Hat, or kissing the Sword, Duelling, and all the several ways of Destruction besides that of their own Personal achievements, or else of their Amours; the difference of the Embraces of the Women of the several Nations they have purchased Honour and Renown in, the best liquours, and the best Cheer each affords, will yet set up for men of Parts, and Challenge the peaceable Name of Wits. But this I'll say for 'em, that they endeavour, wherever they come, to repair the destruction they make of Mankind in the day time, with the Fair in the Night; but in that they follow the blind Dictates of Lust, not Thought, or Noble Passion; as they do of Interest, and Pay, not Honour in the Field: But for Wit and Learning, they ought no more to pretend to 'em, than they do to Conscience and Religion; but we must have a care of affronting the Men of the Blade, 
For Bilbo's their Word,  
And Fighting's their Trade.   Pens. 
Let us therefore quit this end of the Town, with this satisfaction, that we can't find above four or five worth a Wise Man's Conversation; let us therefore Adjourn our Discourse to the City, and then take Horse for the Country, for I'm impatient till I 'm there.  Jov. 
But before we pass to the City we must not forget a certain Species of Men called Sharpers, tho' they are a kind of Amphibious Creatures, and partake of both parts of the Town; and these are divided into Bullies, and Knights of the Elbow: You would, by the words of the first, take him for one of the Men of War, that he had served at least half a score Campaigns, and killed his Thousands; or that he was an Iniskilling-Man, and had eat half an hundred Irish Men for a Breakfast; for every word he speaks, threatens death; and every Oath that comes out of his mouth, gives a Report like a Cannon shot: But he has no more of the soldier, but his read or Blew Coat, to cover his cowardice. This sort of Gentlemen we have already touched upon, as well as the other, called the Gamester, or Sharper, Knight of the Elbow, &c. and truly, their Elbows wag faster than their Tongues; Seven and Eleven, a Guinea on the Main, and such like, being the top of their Knowledge, except that fly sort of rhetoric, by which they draw the Ignorant into their Snare, and set them a game; tho' that chiefly consists in preparing Incidents, not in Discourse, but in having a Box and Dice by chance found in the Room, or a Pack of Cards; and so one or two of the same Kidney, understanding the queen, push on the humour of game, till the Widgeon is Caught, and his Pocket empty, and Credit thrown away too. And having done with these Sparks, now let us proceed to the City.  Soc. 
Gad, and I hope you'll find something there worth your thoughts, since you can't relish the gaiety of the Beaux Esprits of Covent-Garden, the Court, nor the Inns of Court. I fancy, Gentlemen, you so much sympathize with their Gravity, that you'll discover by your Choice, the Incompetency of your judgement in what you seem with the Air of so much Authority to decide.  Pens. 
Indeed, Mr. Sociable, if I may speak what I think, though, I confess, there are very few worth ones Acquaintance, that is, for the sake of their Conversation; yet I am of Opinion, that the number of them far exceeds this end of the Town.— Give me leave to explain myself:— There the Members of the Royal-Society meet, and there many of them make their frequent Abode; yet I had rather by much, have the Converse of their Works in my Study, than that of their Persons, at the expense of my Content, in living in this Town.  Jov. 
And as for the rest, Sociable, I will agree with you, they fall far short of this end of the Town; their Wits( tho one would think it scarce possible) more abundantly dull than yours, their Authors more intolerable, and their general Conversation more senseless.  Pens. 
To begin with the usurers, through whose hands the Money, the Life-blood of the City, passes.  Jov. 
Tho' I think they need not be reckoned among the Conversible part of the City; a Pint of Ale all alone, or upon an extraordinary Bargain; half a Pint of Sack betwixt two, is the extent of their expenses, and Company, unless it be upon the Loan of Money, when they are Treated by the wretched Borrower; and then Mortgages, and Cent. per Cent. take up all their Discourses; with Scruples about Securities, hazards of Mortgages, Arguments for the reasonableness of Extortion, and a Declamation against the Act for Six in the Hundred, and against the Extravagance of the Age, tho' they live by it; and in their real Sentiments, they would rather have a Bill of Sale of the whole World made over to the Devil, than want five per Cent. of what they can any way screw out of the Necessitous.  Pens. 
Then for the Merchant, who Flourishes according as the Wind blows; all his Discourse is upon the rising or falling of the Markets, Complaints of the increasing Customs, Shipwrecks, and a thousand more formidable things.  Jov. 
If he have served any of his time beyond Sea, you shall have nothing( if you once put him upon it) but the politics and Amours of the Place he lived in; how Cuckoldom thrives in ev'ry City, in spite of all the Guards of jealousy, with some Badge or other of a Ladies Favour, which he wears in memory of the Lucky Adventure; tho' perhaps it was but with a poor believing Indian, or courtesan of Italy.  
Then for the rest of the Citts, they are too much employed in getting, and supplanting their Neighbours, to pretend to any thing of Conversation.  
Whilst up and down their several ways they run;  
Some to undo, and some to be undone.  
As Sir John Denham has it in his Cooper's Bill; one is Complaining of the badness of Trade, the hardness of the Merchant, and the ill Payment of their Customers: Another of profound politics, and necessary Regulations of the Government; with Comments on the last gazette, or Encomiums on the Observator; and such wise Disquisitions. The Common-Council-Man is a Man of Authority, a Member of the City-Legislation; his Discourse is still upon the Liberties of the City, the Properties of the Citizens, or the Effects of some fine Speech of his, at the last Choice of Sheriff, Lord Mayor, or Chamberlain, or what other Occasion. The Alderman is a Peep higher, and a Magistrate of Jurisdiction, and, with his Deputies, makes no inconsiderable Figure in the World; but for Conversation you must expect none but the Portions, and Jointures of his Daughters, the progress of his Trading, and how like Wittington, he came from a pair of old shoes, to be of so August a Post in the Metropolis of England. As for the Masters of Halls, and their dependents, they are much of the same dimensions in their parts, and are busied so much with the Interests and Advantages of their several Companies, that you must expect nothing else from them, unless, whose Daughter Danced with the most graceful motion, at the last Feast. As for Livery Men, Prentices, &c. they are undergraduates, or Seeds of these I have named, and therefore dull as Heart can wish; and may in time be all Aldermen, if they break not their Necks, or Credit before they come to't, the hopes of it making them not a little happy.  
And thus much for your Coversations, Sociable, of the Town; which after this, I hope you'll be no more fond of, than a Plodding Citt is of good Poetry, a Lawyer of a Cause in Forma Pauperis, an Atheist of Death, or a Man of Honour of a Rascal. We'll therefore now consider your Divertisements.  Soc. 
Hold there, Jovial, I must have my turn too, I have sate here with more patience to hear you out, than a Zealous Sister to hear the long Prayer of a Famous Holder Forth, or a young Girl in the Teens, to hear a Smu●ty Novel, or Play.  Jov. 
Or, rather than a young Spend thrift, the wholesome Advice of his Father, or Guardian— therefore, Sir, proceed.  Soc. 
Well, then to take a view of your Country happiness, to let alone Quality, the Esquire is the God of his Tenants indeed, at a Christmas Feast, or at a Country Alehouse, when he's among them, but the very humble Servant of a Londoner, tho' of never so mechanic a Profession; he understands the Price of Barley as well as a Farmer, or his own Lady-Wife; is bet●er skilled in the Terms of Hunting and Hawking than his Huntsman, or Falk'ner; in the Diet and Medicines of Horses, than a City Farrier; but you may as well expect Modish Dressing from him, as Witty Discourse.  Pens. 
Flashy Discourse indeed he's a Stranger to, and so desires to be, he's for Solid inquiries, as we have made out already.  Soc. 
Pray no interruptions, sweet Sir, but give me the liberty you took— Then for the Gentleman of middle Estate; he thinks himself no less than Duke Stephano, Vice-Roy of the iceland under Duke Trincalo, and will outrun his Paternal Estate merely to Eat and Drink with Lords, Knights, and Squires, and Pay as much as any, tho' he be set but at the end of the Table, and have the bones to pick, and the bottom of the bottle for his liquour; these are his mistress, his Wife, and Children, for none else does he regard. Then you have your Broken Gentleman, or Country Spunger, and he is worse than a Broken Shop-keeper, tho' he live something more at large; one that wants Wit to live in the Town; he makes every Gentleman's House his home, till he's abused by the Servants, because he cannot give them Money; the abuse is permitted by the Master to get rid of him and so he leads a wretched life.—  Jov. 
till he takes to the War, Sociable, and then he's a hero, and a Wit here in London.  Soc. 
Your Pardon for that, Jovial, for he seldom rises above a Corporal, or Quarter-master, if he do to that; being used to be kept under, his thoughts are not aspiring. Then for the Farmer, he understands nothing betwixt Heaven and Earth; but his Crop, his Cattle, and his Landlord; as for all above the Sky, as well as below the Earth, he's their most humble. I hope you'll not contend for the happiness of his Company? Then for your Country Trader, he's the Broker of the City, and takes off all the damaged Goods, the old Tawdry Ribbons, and Silks, &c. which go off at a good Price, to make the Country Gentlewoman Fine and Gaudy, that so she may make a notable Figure, and a taring show the next Sunday in the Village-Church, and out-shine the Parson's Wife. I hope you are not over Ambitious of being Conversant with the Parts and Discourse of this Rank, unless, when you're obliged with your Ladies to go buy some New clothes, Ribbons, &c.— The Plough man can only tell you what's a Clock by the Sun about Noon, without the help of a Sun-dial, and you would take him to be of a Piece with the Cattle he drives, if he did not by his Speech convince you, that he understood you when you ask the Road of him, by an awkard direction, to sand you two or three miles out of your way; and this is an Animal even below your diversion, one would imagine.  
But I have forgot the Vicar and Curate, the Attorney, and Justice; the Vicar is a Spiritual Esquire, and has his dependences as well as the Temporal; half a dozen poor tattered Curates I mean, who in Rags Preach and Pray for a salary of Twenty Pound per Annum, whilst the Doctor has four or five good benefice; furbishes up his balmy Bedfellow, and Preaches as seldom as a Bishop makes a Visitation. And here, I confess, you generally meet with good Entertainment, the Effects of Effeminate Luxury, and perhaps with a Pleasant Drolling Companion in the Man of God; but the poor Curate is fain to sponge upon the Wealthier Sinners of his Parish, to eke out his Pennurious Allowance; is the Humble Servant of every one that Treats him with a Noggin of cool Nants; and if he declaims in a wretched manner against Sin on Sunday, in the Pulpit, he makes the People amends for it all the Week, by giving them a Salvo of Fellow feeling in their Frailties.  
As for your Country Attorney, he's no less than my Lord chancellor on a Market-day in a Country Town, where at the best Inn he takes up his standing, whilst all the under Villages and Towns-men come to him for Redress; which he does to a T. for he never is an Arbitrator, but he improves the Cause into a svit of Law, setting all Parties together by the ●ars, to make up his own Market: And when by Litigious Suits of his own creating, he has from an ignorant Justices Clerk scraped together an Estate of Five, or Seven Hundred a year, he grafts his unworthy Progeny( for whom he sends himself to the Devil) into some Right Worshipful Family.  
In short, your Country Justice is the most formidable Man of his County, and Worship appears in his mien, and is given him by all the Country People: His very Clerk assumes the Authority of Deciding the lesser Debates, till he arrives to the qualification of an Attorney, and writ himself Gentleman.  Jov. 
But the Country Justice, Sociable, goes not halves with his Clerks, as some of your London Justices do.  Soc. 
No, gad, they are not so provident— and now upon this view I cannot see what advantage you have over us as to Conversation.  Jov. 
As you have represented it, indeed not much, except the innocence of it, which you have not been able to touch; but you have given things a far other face than they have, every one in the Country moves in his proper Sphere; the yeomanry trudge on honestly in their several Vocations, without assuming the regulation of things above their Capacity, as yours do in Town; the Gentry pass their time in taking care of their Families, in innocent Divertisements, in Study and Conversation, agreeable to their several inclinations; without hurry and noise, or intrusions of such as they care not for; they have Pleasure and Profit in all their Actions, and Health and Estate to their Old Age; whereas you have none of these in your Town-life. For, let us consider your Divertisements, and we shall find them full of expense, both of Time and Money as well as Health, and joined inseparably to a hundred inconveniencies.  Jov. 
Why, what think you of Hide-Park, St. James's-Park, Islington-wells, the Walks of Grays-Inn, and Lincolns Inn, the Masks, Balls, &c. what can be more delightful than such a view of Glorious Beauties, Earthly Goddesses: If your Woods, Groves and Fields be fine, are not ours more Excellent, blessed with the presence of so many Nymphs, and Deities.  Jov. 
Those Pleasures consist in an empty and tormenting fight at best, and only disturb ones quiet with wandring desires after one pretty Lady or other. As for the advantage of Hide-Park, it has none but what it borrows from the Country, which shows the Excellence of the Country, that your boasted City must be left, when you seek for open Pleasures, and free breathing; for St. James's-Park, and those other Places, 'tis such a medley of Quality, and Whores, that 'tis hard to distinguish betwixt them; so that you may meet with an Age of Pain, for your Minute's Pleasure. Islington-Wells are but a Three-penny Bawdy-house, or the Rendezvous of Assignation for the City-Wives and Mistresses. Masquerades are seldom frequented by any Lady of virtue; so that it is but Hurry and Noise, where the Town-Jilts come Incognito, to pick up Cullies.  Soc. 
What think you of the Play-house, the Coffee-houses, and Taverns?  Pens. 
What would you go to the Play for? To see a Whore that has Lain with all the Beaux of the Pit; nay, perhaps with every Player on the Stage, act a Virgin, or a virtuous Wife?  Jov. 
Or to be dun'd all round with the impertinent Discourse of Beardless Fops to the Orange-Wenches, with Commodes an Ell high; and to the Vizor-Masks: of the Rake-Hells, talking loud to one another; or the perpetual Chat of the Noisy Coquets, that come there to get Cullies, and to disturb, not mind the Play. Or what Effect has all the Plays upon you? Are not your Fops in the Pit and Boxes incorrigible to all the Endeavours of your Writers, in their Prologues and Epilogues, or the variety of Characters that have been made to reform them? Tho a Play be a generous Diversion, yet 'tis better to red than see, unless one could see it without these Inconveniences. Then for your Coffee-houses, to begin with those of the Wits, the two Brothers; thither the Jury of Wit retire from the Play, over a Dish of politic and poetic Tea or Coffee, Painters, fiddlers, Poets, Minor Authors, Beaux, and the rest of the illiterate Blockheads, promiscuously dissect the poor Play, to be sure to the Author's disadvantage; how good soever, or whatever Success it met with. This, indeed, is the Scene of the Wits, where a pert young Fop, fresh come from the University, with his Head fuller of Notions and Authors Names, than Sense, from seven Years poring over his Books, shall pass for a profound Scholar: The height of his Reading has been the indices of those Authors he talks of; a good Assurance and Pedantry establishes his Reputation; and he must be a Wit, if he can but prattle a little of Aristarchus and Homer, &c. in general Terms praising their Style, Descriptions and Designs, to those that understand not one Word of them. Another, that understands not so much English as to writ a Billet-deux, shall, with the help of reading Mr. Rimer's Criticisms on the Plays of the last Age, the Translation of Rapine upon the Art of Poetry, and Mr. Creeches of Theocritus, and the Art of Writing Pastorals by the same Rapine, the Abbé Hedelin, Mr. Dryden's Essays of dramatic Poesies, or some of his Prefaces, and some or one of these Authors, with a great deal of Confidence, give you Critical Observations on the Greek Poets; when all the Knowledge they have of them, is from the Labours of those I have mentioned, or else from some old, nonsensical Translations they have met with, which have served a Patriarch's Age to the Library of Moore-fields, till discarded thence for the value of one single Penny.  Soc. 
I must confess, I ought not to have mentioned the Coffee-house, since you had declared your Prejudice against those that made up the Pleasure of them.  Jov. 
Then, as for your other Coffee-houses, they are but a perpetual Hurry of News, Business, politics, Plots, Conspiracies and Battles; Medlies and Confusion of Sounds and Discourses.  Pens. 
And for the Taverns, we have said enough of them; and all that I shall add, is, that they are the Nurseries of Profaneness and Treason.  Jov. 
The great Ones are the Rendezvous of the Rake-hells, and Beaux, and Sharpers, in their lewdest Sallies; the Lesser serve only for a private and ready Retreat with a little Punk, to sin cheaply, and do Penance with bad Wine for an ill-favoured Sin.  Soc. 
What think you of Intrigue, Jovial? You have been as good at it, in your Time, as any of us; that is, a Pleasure worthy a Man, agreeable to his Nature, Love and Enjoyment.  Pens. 
Love, Sir, is so great a Folly, that I hope you'll not make it a fit Pleasure for a Man of Sense: 'Tis the most ridiculous of Passions, and fills the World with so numerous a Train of Fooleries, that I think every one that sees it should turn a Democritus, and burst his Sides with Laughter. I have known a Gentleman, whose Age required Gravity, affect all the gaiety of a Cavalier of Twenty; nay, and exceed him too; and make Love to every Face he saw. These might be Diversion to the Lookers on, but I can't imagine it can be so to the Actors.  Jov. 
No, no, Cousin; we'll not exclude Love, it being one of the chiefest Blessings of our Life: But that Love is not in the Embraces of Harlots, but the Caresses of a virtuous Wife. The Punk shall, after a little time, bestow those Favours on another for Inclination, which she forces her self to give you for Interest. And such is the End of Intriguing, the Pursuit of one that is known to be a Whore, or who they think will easily be so,( besides the Disappointments, the Hazards, the Diseases, and the hundred other Inconveniences that follow,) would make any Man of Sense abhor it. If you go to Mrs. Br— n's, your Money can purchase you, 'tis true, a pretty and charming Creature; but Money shall carry her to a Hundred more, and has to a Thousand before, perhaps. But if you are for managing your Intrigue yourself, without the Assistance of a Bawd, how many Hours, Days, and Nights; how many Pounds will it cost you, in Chase of some Jilt, perhaps; whom, when you obtain, shall, in a few Days, grow stale to, or weary of you? You pursue Noise and Nonsense, a painted Face, and a fine Mant; and meet with a Fool, a Jilt, or the Pox. And so much for Intrigue; which, let them pursue that like it.  Soc. 
But what think you of Dancing, Fencing, and Tennis? They are innocent and Manly Divertisements.  Jov. 
But, not confined to the Town, you may have them in the Country; and with them Hunting, Hawking, Coursing, Shooting, Racing, Fishing, and a Hundred more; which you cannot imagine, who have not experienced them. The Country is the Seat of Pleasure, Health and Happiness.  Pens. 
A Country, retired Life was thought the best by Heaven, when it created Man and Woman in it; Happiness and Conversation consisting not in Community and Towns: And so they lived, till the villainy of human Race increased with its Number; then town were but the Effect of their rapacious Desires, which obliged 'em, for Security, to unite into Bodies politic, for Self-preservation; which we being assured of under a Free Government, may retire, and make as near an Approach as possible, to our Primitive State of Innocence and Happiness.  Soc. 
Well, Gentlemen, I'll consider of what you have said; for you have given me an Idea of a Country-Life, far more excellent than I formerly had; and, since Pleasure is the Object of my Endeavours, I may chance, as soon as I have gained my little Sylvia, to try, at least, what Experience may do; and with this Satisfaction, that the Pleasures it brings will be new, and therefore more satisfactory.  Jov. 
And when we have once got you, Mr. Sociable, into our Societies, I warrant we keep you, beyond the power of this Senseless Town to out-rival us.  
The End of the First Dialogue.   

THE Second Dialogue, BETWEEN Madam Townlove, and Madam Thinkwell.  SCENE, Madam Thinkwell's Chamber. Town. 
AH my dear Thinkwell! How hast thou done this Age, since I saw thee?  Think. 
As well as the foggy, smoky Air of this filthy Town, and the perpetual Hurry of the Streets would permit.  Town. 
Why, my Dear, thou art continually poring over a Book, like a Boy that must Con his Lesson perfectly, for fear of the furious, unrelenting Pedant, his Master.  Think. 
'Tis the only Relief I have from the Noisy Impertinences which every Day brings with it.  Town. 
As I live, my Life, my Dear, thou shalt cast off this unpleasant Seriosity, and with me to the Mall, all the Beaumond will be there to Night: How charming an Evening is here! It looks like a modest young Lover, serene and blushing; it bears a settled Brightness, without the least Cloud of Design. Therefore you shall along with me, my Dear.  Think. 
Pr'ythee, Madam Townlove, divert not my sedater Thoughts from the Contemplation of Wit and Reason, to such a Congregation of fluttering Fops of Honour, Clumsy Bullies, Taudry Citts, Noisy Coquets, and the rest of the numberless Throng of my own Sex, the height of whose Follies are more unwholesome to me, than one of our Modern Farces, or an Address from a Beau of Covent-Garden.  Town. 
Indeed thou art too Shagrin, my Love: For, what can be more delightful, than a View of all the most celebrated Beaux and Wits in Town; of so many fine, well-bred Gentlemen; and so many Beauties of our own Sex, set off to their greatest Advantage, in the pleasantest Promenade in the World.  Think. 
With a Cloud of Dust, that rises up above the very Trees, and excludes all the Sweetness of the Air— And then, what Pleasure can it be, to see a Throng of Fools, of both Sexes, walking up and down to show their new clothes, like Children on a holiday? To see the Women Casting about their affencted Glances on every proper Man that passes ' em? To observe the Thousand Forms they put themselves into, to appear the more agreeable, and to gain the Reputation of a languishing Look, or a taking Air? To see the lewd Prostitutes of the Town walk Cheek-by-Jole with the Ladies of Honour? A City-Shop-Keeper's Journy-man, in a gay, Golden Waste-coat, walk Bare-headed, in the Rain or Wind, to the Ramp, his Master's Daughter, in imitation of Quality; and talk loud to her, as if he were a Wit, and excellent at the Art of Rallying; tho the Adventures of a stolen merry 'bout, at a Cake-house in the Fields, with her, be the whole Subject of his Discourse? To see some of the received Wits of our own Sex trace the Mall with such a boiting, hebling Gate, as if they meant to justie all they met, or were walking for a Wager; and this to be valued for a care less Mien?  Town. 
Indeed, my Dear, thou art too severe—. The Ladies you mean are the most celebrated for a graceful Motion, of any the Town affords.  Think. 
It may be so: I value not the Opinion of the Million, whose Thoughtless Fancies set up whom they please for Wits, and Well-bred Ladies.— Who can take pleasure to see a young Lord, drowned in Peruke and Crevatstring, and just return'd from travail, with the addition of Fop to the Fool he carried with him from home, make his open Address to some Superannuated Lady, with her Face daubed, at least half an Inch thick, with Paint, false Locks, and a gaudy Manto; or to a known jilt, in a Strait-body'd Gown, like a Maid of Honour, set off with borrowed Modesty; whilst the Rest affect as much her natural and necessary Impudence? To see a grave old Matron walk with a Beardless, smooth-fac'd Boy, with all the Endearing Behaviour of a Designing Harlot? To see, in fine, a ruddy-fac'd, plump Divine, in his Silken Robes, cast the Deux-yeux on a young, pert, blooming Girl, as she passes; and watch her closer, till the Dusk of the Evening, than his good Lord Bishop's Levy, upon a vacant bnfice in his Gift, tho he have two or three before; and then endeavour to prove the Lawfulness of Fornication to her, from a Verse of Leviticus, or a Mystery of the Revelations.  Town. 
Come, come, Thinkwell; you have had your gayer Days; you relished these Delights of Youth, as well as I do now.  Think. 
The Experience of those Days has made me nanseate all the Follies you Fancy now, for want of judgement. How can it please thee to view the Diseases of the Mind, when thou wouldst turn away thy Head from the sight of a sore Finger, or scabbed Nose; tho far less offensive in its Nature? Canst thee with pleasure see my rich Lady Bounce receive the public Ceremony of compliment and Address from Young Mr. Shape, and confess her apparent Belief of all the Praises he gives her Beauty, tho she Squint, has a Hump-Back, Bandy-Legs, a Hawk-Nose, a wide Mouth, Rotten Teeth, and a Face full of Pock-holes, of the Colour of her Livery, Orange-Tawny? Or to hear her satirically find fault with this Lady for being Crooked, that for her Homely Face, and t'other for some other Defect which is notorious in her self? Canst thee walk behind Madam Fatty, and with pleasure hear her find fault with all the Shapes she passes, tho she her self be as thick as long, and would make one think she designed to bring in the Fashion of the Farthingale again? Or canst thee, with patience, see that Lord's Daughter toss back ber Head on her Shoulders, and laugh so loud, that the half of the Mall shall stop, and turn about, to gaze on her? Or this single Lady Courts'ing to every Fop she meets, as if she would court the Reputation of a common Whore? But it would be endless to run over all the Impertinencies, and intolerable Follies, the Mall every Night presents to our view: There's scarce a Person comes there, but contributes his or her Share towards the making up their Number infinite. I 'm resolved I won't give myself so very unpleasant a Penance, without any other Reason than bare Complaisance to your Desire, since there are enough to be found that will be pleased to pass their idle Hours with you, where e'er you'll go●. If you want a Foil, as, indeed, 'tis generally the Care of you young Ones, now-a-days, to get one that's Ugly, or Old, to set your Faces off to the better advantage, there's my Lady Youthlove will fit you to a Hair; who delights in Love, tho she be an Antidote; and will rather do a good Turn for another, than not have a hand in an Intrigue; who loves all the R●sorts of Company, and revels in the Delight of perpetual Chat, and is continually at the Park, Plays, or Masks.  Town. 
Nay, pr'ythee, my Dear, don't be so morose: I profess, I meant no such thing, only the Enjoyment of thy dear Company; for if I had, I should have been mightily deceived, and have proved the F●il myself; for you can't think yourself ugly or old, I'm sure, since you are not much past Thirty, and have all the taking Charms you had ever since I know you, and which brought you so many Adowers. Therefore, my Dear, you must go with me to the Mall.  Think. 
I designed not to bespeak your Praises, sweat Lady, but only excuse myself from what I can't abide, Noise, and Nonsense, the Crop which that place affords in abundance.  Town. 
If the Mall be your Aversion, my Dear, we'll to hid Park; 'tis time enough, if you go immediately; my Mother's Coach is below, and shall carry us, to make a Figure in the Ring.  Think. 
That has the better Reputation, I grant; but that Diversion suits not my Humour; the formal Bows, the affencted Smiles, the silly By-words, and amorous Tweers in passing, makes it up all Grimace and Ceremony. I am impatient when I see this Thoughtless Lord loll back in his Chariot, and now and then smile when his Friend, the Wit, whom he has honoured with his Company, breaks some abominable Jest on, these Horses, or that Harness, or that solitary Lady, with her Women, instead of better Company, leaning in an inviting, languishing Posture, as if she wanted the Opinion of the Ring, that she's in Love, or asleep. Besides, 'tis, methinks, a ridiculous Whim, to ride round a circled, like Boys and Girls Treading the Figure of Eight in the Fields: You have little Benefit of the Air, unless in your Passage thither; all the Wat'ring scarce being able to lay the Dust the Horses and Coaches raise: So that I cannot imagine what the Design is, unless to show their fine Horses, and new Coaches: But that can't be e'ery nights Business, and I hate solemn Trifling, to put myself to all that formal Trouble to no Purpose, and for no End; they who have nothing else to employ themselves with, may do as they please; but I am never so over-loaded with Time and Idleness, as to fling it away on nothing.  Town. 
Why, my Dear, is Diversion a Flinging away Time? To be continually employed, is to tyre both Mind and Body, and to render yourself less capable of a Benefit from your serious Hours.  Think. 
Diversion, I confess, is necessary; but I can never esteem that so, which contributes so much, with its abounding Impertinencies, to my Dissatisfaction. Besides, Diversion ought to be something that is not a more idle Interval of Thought, to forget ones self for a few Hours: It has its End; which is, Recreating the Mind and Body, either by the fresh Air, in a Coach, in the open Fields, which you have not in Hide-Park; or a necessary Exercise of the Body, by a gentle Walk, without Noise and Hurry; or a prudent Conversation, tho that be almost impossible to be purchased in this Town, where promiscuous Company meet even in the Ladies Chambers.  Town. 
Thou art as nice in thy Diversions, my Dear, as some Ladies are in their Lovers; and 'tis well you have not the same Fate, to choose the worst at last. Are you then for the Walks of Grays-Inn, or those of Lincolns-Inn? There you need fear no Dust, nor yet so much Company.  Think. 
But that that is there is worse.— Young Clerks, or Gentlemen-Students of the Inn, as Ignorant in Address as Law, and yet plaguing e'ery one they meet with both; more impertinent than Players, when they set up for Beaux and Wits: Solid Counsellors, with their Heads full of Law-Cases, making their Court in form, and by Precedent; as tedious, and as little to the purpose, as their Bills in Chancery: Grave Judges, who come to Air their Consciences, or their Spouses, after a good Bribe, or a good Supper, taken in its proper Season; with all the Train of pretty Misses, who have the several Faces of several of his Richer Clients, before he gained the ermine: Alsatian Bullies, that dare not venture so far out of their Province of Security, as the Park, by Land, and have not Stock enough to reach White-Hall in a Sculler; who come by the Instinct of Necessity, more than Love, to meet a generous Holbourn-Wife, an Attourney's forward Daughter, or a believing Semstress; or a Fullers-Rents-Widow, with a flowered Petticoat, all be-daub'd with Silver and Gold Fringe and Galume; a Face like the Saracen's-Head, dressed up in a Topping Commode; arms bigger than her Gallant's Legs, which have not yet lost their primitive Colour of the Kitchen. In short, The only Advantage these Places have above the Park, is but an Increase of Scandal and Impertinence, without the Face of Quality, to give it a better Reputation.  Town. 
This Living in the Country, my Life, has perverted thy gayer Humour, and made thee so Spleenatic, that thee canst not endure the brisker Delights of the Town, which is full of Variety, which one would think were the most agreeable to a Woman. I 'm sure, I have a much better Relish of the Parks and Walks, than you profess. Hide-Park, methinks, is August, and Great; and there you Ride in State, with the Ladies of the first Quality.—  Think. 
Much of a Nature, in my Mind, of a Quakers Silent Meeting.  Town. 
O fie, fie! Never undervalue your judgement so, my Dear.— Then for St. James's Park: The fancied Revels of a Romance, when all the Heroes and Ladies of the Book meet, is not more pleasant in the Idea, than this is in Reality. There the sighing Lover comes, to pay his public Tribute to her he adores: And then, if one be handsome, what a Pleasure must it be, to carry away the Eyes of all the Mall, from the rest of the envying Ladies? To have as many Hats off to one, and the general Respect, as if the Queen passed along; with the additional Satisfaction, to hear this handsome Man swear, she's handsome; that Wit vow, she's the most delicious Creature he e'er beholded; this Lord swear, that she merits an Empire for her Beauty? To see every one that has ever been in her Company so proud of her Acquaintance, as to make public acknowledgements of it by a Bow, as often as she passes? A Woman that is singular for any Perfection in Dress, Mien, or Person, can't fail of Pleasure and Reputation.  Think. 
Reputation indeed! But such a one, poor Lady, that ought to be avoided, with all the Caution in the World; and I am sorry to find you so pleased with that which must prove your Ruin, if you persevere in the Humour. But thee art yet young, and hast Beauty enough, without the help of Art, to merit a better Fate than to be a Prostitute to every Pretender; for so the World will judge of such as make Advances to all they meet; and one had better merit it for our Worldly Happiness, than have it. Thou hast too yet, I hope, a Rest of Reputation, not to fright away a serious and honourable Pretender. Leave therefore this lewd Town, where no young Woman that is pretty, is safe, either from the Tongues, or Attempts of the Men.  Town. 
What, my Dear! would you have me live perpetually in the Country, mew'd up in my House, like a bide in a Cage; consulting my Receipt-Book, and making Medicines for the Scald-Heads, and Broken Shins of my Husband's Tenants? Or, at most, to make Conserves of read Roses, for my decaying, Consumptive Husband; Marmalade, and other Sweet-Meats, to entertain the Farmers or Parsons Wives? Or two or three times a Year, perhaps, the distant Justice of Peace, his formal Spouse, and Daughters, that are in their Bibs and Aprons in the Teens? Or, after a Feast, to withdraw as soon as Grace is said, with the Country Gentlewomen, to discourse of the best plaster for a green Wound; whilst the Men are up to the Ears in clumsy Obscenity, and Strong Beer, or nasty Claret? Then, when one goes out, ones solitary Garden, or the adjoining Park, or Field, is the Extent of ones melancholy Walk; an impertinent visit, the Extent of ones Pleasure; and ones Husband's Relations, or Parson's Company, the Extent of ones Conversation. As I live, my Dear, I should grow the veriest Mope in the World, if I should forsake this Town I should be always thinking.—  Think. 
You are in a pleasant Dream at the best, and fear Waking: But since I find this Sleep, however delightful, will turn to a Lethargy, I am bound, in Love to thee, to wake thee. Is it therefore an Unhappiness to be always thinking? Give way but to Thought, and Reason will soon render the Town more nauseous to thee, than thou thinkest it now desirable: You see what your great Diversions are already, by what I have said.  Town. 
Oh, my Dear! you have not considered half our Diversions here in Town; all our Life long is Diversion and Pleasure? What think you of the Play, of Visits, of Dress, of game, of Love and Intrigue; nay, our very Devotion too is not unpleasant, the Churches affording such a glorious sight of the Beau Mond.  Think. 
For your sake, sweet Lady, I'll consider these several things as you proposed 'em, tho' I can't tell where the happiness is, to have ones whole day taken up in Trifles, and Night in Sleep, the life of mere Bruits. First then, as for the Play, if you go purely to be diverted with the Entertainment of the Stage( provided it be none of our senseless new Farces, which are composed of nothing but awkard Lewdness, and unnatural Characters) if you apprehended things aright, 'tis the best Diversion the Town affords; for the Comedies( I mean the best of them) will Instruct you in the follies of your Sex, the falseness of the Men, besides other necessary Lessons for your Behaviour, and Conversation; and Tragedy raise in you a just value of virtue. But if you go into the Box, where often a Whore perks it in the face of Quality, to entertain an Address from a Fop just under you in the Pit; to courtesy to all the Pit round for half an hour after you come in; if you go into the Pit in your Vizor, to rally this Fool, and 'tother gay Sot, to talk so loud in the Play time, that you disturb half the House; 'tis only to expose yourself to the talk of the Town, and the Censure of ev'ry Prating Coxcomb; or putting yourself in an unnecessary danger of having your heart misled by a Criminal and Fatal Passion, for one that will make no other advantage of it, but your ruin: For you can never think an Amour began in a Vizor in the Play-house, will ever end in the Church. But what can be more absurd than the Custom of some young Ladies, who, for a Diversion, mingle with the Whores of a lower Rank in the Gallery, for the sake of Banter, as they pretend; that is, to engage with the impertinent Chat of a City apprentice with a borrowed Sword, or my Lord's Butler. In short, with the lower Class of Sharpers, Bullies, Cullies, and Serving-Men; drunken Rakes, and dirty Beau's, Sportive Players, and Clumsy Victuallers; besides a number of undistinguishable Mob.  Town. 
I 'm glad, my dear, that you approve of Plays, which you have not in the Country.  Think. 
Tho' we have 'em not Acted, we may red them without the temptations of the Pit, which is better; and then we cull 'em, and trouble not ourselves with such as are not worth reading.— Next for your Visits.—  Town. 
Ay, my Dear, I hope you will allow us some Pleasures here in Town; what therefore do you think of our Visits?  Think. 
They are seldom well culled, those from the Men impudent and assuming, from the Women impertinent. And you must sit by the hour to hear this Lady with an affencted noise rally all the absent she or you know; fancying her self to have abundance of wit, because she talks much, and ill of ev'ry body; or to hear another praise all the Sparks she saw last night in the Mall, or Drawing-Room, and describe all the Manto's and Petticoats that were there( tho' there are few guilty of that good natured folly of speaking well of ev'ry one) to hear this Old Lady that will let nothing be mentioned but the Intrigues of her younger days, or at least the many Adorers she has had, and the several effects of their desperate passions; or what Stratagems the four Husbands she has already buried, used to obtain her Ladyships reserved affections; not omitting many times those of fifty times the number of Gallants; and tho' she be in her Kingdom, when you talk of Love, yet she'll never permit any mention of any of your Modern Amours into Competition with those of her days; and tho' she can't act them over again, she'll have the Vanity to make you see she wants not the desire, tho' she does the power. To hear that Coquet tell you all the News of the Town, who loves who, what Adventure happened to such a Lady last night, what Loves are false, and who the fittest to be trusted with a Lady's Favours; fairly intimating, that all the Company she keeps, is only to find out one she may entrust with her heart, and loser wishes; and there she is generally deceived, and quits the Stage as she has acted on it, with noise and affectation, with a loud Report, and rotten Credit, if not Person, and a crazy Fortune, with a Painted Face to keep up the Opinion that she has been Handsome, though Unfortunate. This Lady for the Reputation of a good humoured Woman, will be perpetually laughing and talking; that, to pass for Virtuous, will be eternally railing at 'vice in Company, condemning this or that Lady by name, never reckoning detraction in the number of Vices, tho' it commit as great a murder as a stab in the heart, killing the good Name and Reputation, which has no Resurrection. And indeed these public Decoys are compounded of affencted Carriage, Confident Discourse, Mighty Pretensions, and Excessive Censoriousness.  Town. 
But, my Dear, we have Friends, intimate dear Creatures, that glow-worm all their Secrets to one.  Think. 
Ay, and to ev'ry one they know, you are not obliged to their Confidence in you for that, but their natural weakness, who can let nothing be secret they know, tho' it concern themselves: Besides, by this intimacy, they gain your good Opinion, as Friends in whom you may confided, and so furnish them with talk for the next intimate Friend they come to, that is all their Acquaintance; if you tell 'em any Secret of your own, 'tis so no longer than they are in your Company; soon after they are gone, they whisper it to one, and to another, till it rebound to yourself again by a third dear Friend, to confirm her interest with you.  Town. 
As I live, my Dear, that's true, for I  told Mrs. Fondall, I thought my young Lord Easy was in love with me, as a great Secret, and I had it in three days time from his own mouth, which put me to the blushy, I profess, and made me so ashamed, that I could not go to the Mall in a Week.  Think. 
Then for your Male Visitors.—  Town. 
As you love me, my Dear, don't exclude us from Conversing with Mankind, Oh! 'tis so Natural.  Think. 
Tis too Natural, or at least too Customary; which some are of Opinion is all one: But besides their Follies and Impertinencies, they bring danger in their Visits; and one can scarce admit of one Man of a thousand, without exposing ones Name to be the Discourse of all the Companies he keeps; they generally watch your Eyes, and will give an account of ev'ry glance, from innocent Looks drawing what Conclusions they please; they are living Libels, that make it their business to Observe and inquire into ev'ry little minute Circumstance of ones Behaviour, making a judgement from thence; and for their diversion in the next Company they come into, tell that for certain, which is only the Child of their Imagination. If on any Occasion one whisper, 'tis certainly Intrigue; if one look on 'em 'tis Love, and Admiration, and the impatient effect of Desire: If one do not, 'tis still Love, only shane will not let one behold the Object of ones concealed Passion, without discovering it. If one is uneasy at the intolerable nonsense of their Discourse, 'tis still the effect of Love. Others, that have once got an Acquaintance with one, will pursue one to ev'ry Place one goes to; the Park, the Mall, the Visits one makes, the Plays, the Drawing-Room, or wherever it is, shall be sure to find the diligent Fops, and then they'll talk to one whether one will or no; and never look on one but with the most Languishing Dying Eyes; till having published their Passion, and shew'd a hundred impudent Familiarities with one in ev'ry place; the world suspect ones Reputation, which always improves a suspicion into a conclusive judgement; and 'tis well if their importunity gain not ones self into the Design against ones self; for she that will( and few but do) give opportunities of address, will not always be able to resist.  Town. 
You will not sure Condemn all Conversation, is Visiting so Criminal?  Think. 
Yes, as in use now in Town, where 'tis generally, only on design both in Men and Women, though I know some Ladies make their Houses like the Change at Noon, or the Drawing-Room at the King's Levee, or Couchee, full of hurry and Company; like my Lady Townly in Sir Fopling Flutter, they are such lovers of noisy Conversation, and News. I am of Opinion 'tis better Conversing with the Dead than the Living of that Sex; both because 'tis safer, and affords more Pleasure, because more Wit. And as for your Pleasure of Dressing, I can never imagine it recompenses the Pain; for what freting and fuming is there, if a Point be ill washed, Knots and Commode spoyled in the making up, besides the daily pennance of fitting three or four hours under your Maids hands, with the supernumerary plague of her nonsensical Chat; and all this merely for the enjoyment of these benefits I have run through, and the remaining one of Love and Intrigue, which is the silliest, and most pernicious of all.  Town. 
Oh, my Dear, never speak against Intrigue, 'tis the pleasantest thing in the World to banter the Men with the thoughts of what a passion we have for them; put them to the expense of Treats, and Bribes to ones Servants, and then make 'em wait a hundred assignations, and disappoint them in all; yet still keep 'em in chase of you as long as you please, and put them off at last, when they have spent so many solicitous Days, and watchful Nights after you.  Think. 
Ah! thou art as much out in thy politics, as a niggardly Father is, in thinking to restrain the Profuseness of his Spend thrift-Son, by lessening his allowance, as long as there are any of those kind Gentlemen in Town, that have the good nature of Stistead to supply his wants; for Men are not so easily deluded in their pursuits of an Amour, which when you once engage in with them, they soon become Masters, and as soon as obtained, slight and scorn you; and like Dorimant in Sir Foplin Flutter, esteem a Quarrel with an Old mistress, next to the coming to a good understanding with a new. Perhaps they give some public affront, or ruin a Lady's Reputation for a jest, or the Vain-glory of being thought successful in their Amours. Rather than want a Quarrel, they'll pretend falseness on your side, and lay an imaginary Intrigue to your Charge, that they may seem the more Innocent, and the more plausibly break off. But then the Consequence of this is perhaps a Child, and to be cast off by your Relations, forced to Prostitute yourself for a Living, or mary some Foot-man, or soldier, follow the Camp, and die in an Hospital; at best in an old tattered Manto, carrying news about, from one Acquaintance to another, for a Meals-meat, and a Glass of Wine. If there be any thing delightful, 'tis but short, and full of Fatigue, and attended with certain ruin of Fortune and famed. The Women need not seek their undoing themselves, as they do, for the Men lay Stratagems enough to ruin ' em. The Indian-Women, the Sempstress, and others that you buy any thing of, are often employed to betray you to the Conversation of those who want but opportunity to persuade you to your ruin. Bawds are now Company for Ladies of Quality, and by their Garbs and dependents can't be distinguished; so that there is no Place nor Company secure for a Handsome Woman, single, or married in this Town; the more Innocent, the more easily betrayed by these Cunning Traders in Intrigue.  Town. 
You amaze me, my Dear, in your account of things; and I begin to fear all my Acquaintance.  Think. 
Nourish that fear, and it will be the Parent of thy happiness.  Town. 
But you have forgot game.  Think. 
I wish all my Sex had forgot it too; not that I disallow an innocent diversion at Cards, as we Play in the Country for small Sums; but as 'tis used here in Town, 'tis only the most certain way of ruin; especially when you Play with Men, who will be sure, either to Cheat you into their Debts, beyond the power of Payment, that they may secure your Person to their wills, or else let you get of them, with hopes to oblige you to consider their complaisance another way. Lastly, for the Church, to the Scandal of Religion: Indeed 'tis made a place of assignation, or at best, a Place where the Ladies come to gain Proselytes to their Charms, and divert their Thoughts from Devotion to heaven, to themselves. And among their extraordinary Fits of Devotion, they shall have such Amorous Pangs for heaven, that one would think they m●ant to let the Church see how sweet they should look in the ecstasies of Love. I would have thee therefore to leave this Town, that is the ruin of Youth, Health, and Fortune of both Sexes, especially of ours; I am for the Country within these three days, and shall be glad of your Company.  Town. 
I'll consider of what you say, which has had this effect on me already, as to divert me from my Walk in the Park, and of farther Conversation with the noisy part of my Acquaintance; and so, my Dear, adieu to thee.  Think. 
Adieu, sweet Madam, and remember this, that the Town is but a medley of hypocrisy, Nonsense, Design, ill Nature, and ruin; without any Substantial Pleasure.  
FINIS.   

To the Critical READER.  
THese are humbly to desire you in the Name of the Author, Booksellers, and Printers, Parties concerned in this Book, to take your Pen and Ink, and Correct these following errors, to save yourself a Fit of the Spleen.   

page. 2. line 5. add to't. page. 4. l. 21. for Knight, red Jovial. p. 9. l. 15. deal Knight. p. 10. l. 23. for Preaching. r. Poaching. p. 12, l. ●3, for Solitude●, r. solicitudes. p. 15. l. 13. for attribute, r. contribute. p. 21. l. 22. for later. r. late. p. 22. l. 26. deal their. p. 31. l. 20. deal of. l. 25. for Tom Wraint, r. Tom Urwins. p. 36. l. 3. for Common-Law-Book, r. Common-Place-Book. p. 37. l. 20. for his, r. their l. 22. for his, r. their. l. ult. for were, r. was. p. 38. l. 1. for Rascals, r. Rascal. l. 12. deal they, and the Comma. p. 39. l. 25. for presumption, r. persecution. p. 40. l. 5. for Chatting, r. Chattring. p. 47. l. 9. for Entity. r. Entities. p. 49 l. 11. for lewd, r. lewdest. p. 50. l. ult. for Man, r. room. p. 57. l. 5. for they meet, r. he meets. p. 58. l. 13. for Beaus, r. Beaux. p. 59. l. 16. for Tom Wraines, r. Tom Urwin's. p. 60. l. 26. for Rake-hellorims, r. Rakelorums. p. 61. l. 13. for they, r. he, for stick, r. stick●. p. 65. l. 26. for this, r. their. l. 14. for that, r. of. p. 70. l. 16. for him, r. their.   

A Catalogue of some Plays Printed for R. Bentley.  

beaumond and Fletcher's Plays: in all 51. in large Fol.  
Mr. Shakespear's Plays: In one large Fol. Volume, containg 43 Plays.  
Mr. Nathaniel lees Plays: In one Volume.  
Mr. Otway's Plays: In one Volume.  
Mr. Shadwel's Plays: In one Volume.  
Mr. Dryden's Plays: In two Volumes.  
His other Poems: One Volume more. 

1 All mistaken, or the mad Couple.  
2 Alexander the Great.  
3 Andromache.  
4 Ambitious Statesman, or the Loyal Favourite.  
5 Virtue betrayed, or Anna Bullen.  
6 Abdellazor, or the Moor's Revenge.  
7 Amorous Prince.  
8 Amends for Ladies.  
9 Albumazor.  
10 Amboyna, a Tragedy.  
11 Brutus of Alba.  
12 Byron's Conspiracy. 1. Part.  
13 Byron's Conspiracy. 2d. Part.  
14 Banditti, or the Lady in distress.  
15 Busey d' Ambois.  
16 Caesar Borgia.  
17 Country Wit.  
18 Calisto, or the Chast Nymph.  
19 Country Wife.  
20 City politics.  
21 Constantine.  
22 Common-wealth of Women.  
23 Counterfeits.  
24 Caius Marius.  
25 Destruction of Jerusalem, in two Parts.  
26 Duke of Guise.  
27 Dutch Lovers.  
28 Duke of Millan.  
29 Disappointment.  
30 English Monsieur.  
31 Esquire Old-Sap, or the Night Adventures.  
32 Essex and Elizabeth, or the Unhappy Favourite.  
33 Empress of Morocco.  
34 Evening Love, or the mock Astrologer.  
35 forced Marriage, or the Jealous Bridegroom.  
36 The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters.  
37 Fool turned critic.  
38 The Fatal Wager.  
39 Fatal jealousy.  
40 False Count.  
41 Generous Enemies, or the Ridiculous Lovers.  
42 Gloriana, or the Court of Augustus Caesar.  
43 Grateful Servant.  
44 Henry the Sixth, or the Misery of Civil-War.  
45 Henry the Sixth, or the murder of the Duke of gloucester, the 2d. Part.  
46 Hamlet Pr. of Denmark, a Tragedy.  
47 humorous Courtier.  
48 The Hollander.  
49 Julius Caesar.  
50 iceland Queen, or Mary of Scotland.  
51 King Lear.  
52 King, and no King.  
53 Knave in Grain.  
54 Little Thief.  
55 Love Tricks.  
56 Lucius Junius Brutus.  
57 Loyal Brother.  
58 Mythridates King of Pontus.  
59 Madam Fickle, or the Witty False One.  
60 Mr. Limberham, or the Kind Keeper.  
61 Mistaken Husband.  
62 Moor of Venice.  
63 Monsieur Ragou.  
64 Mamamouchy.  
65 Merchant of Venice.  
66 macbeth.  
67 Maids Tragedy.  
68 Nero, a Tragedy.  
69 Notes on th' Emperor of Morocco, by the Wits.  
70 Noble Stranger.  
71 Oedipus King of Thebes.  
72 Orphan, or the Unhappy Marriage.  
73 Plain-Dealer.  
74 Philaster, or Love lies a bleeding.  
75 Rare-en-tout, a French Comedy.  
76 rehearsal.  
77 Reformation.  
78 Royal King.  
79 Rover, Second Part.  
80 Rollo Duke of Normandy.  
81 Sertorius, a Tragedy.  
82 Sophonisha, or Hannibal's Overthrow.  
83 Soldiers Fortune.  
84 Atheist, or the Second Part of the Soldiers Fortune.  
85 Strange Discovery.  
86 St. Patrick for Ireland.  
87 Spanish friar.  
88 Siege of Memphis.  
89 Secret Love, or the Maiden Queen.  
90 Theodosius, or the Force of Love.  
91 Thyestes, a Tragedy.  
92 Tamerlain the Great.  
93 Town Fop, or Sir Tim. Tawdry.  
94 troilus and Cressida.  
95 Timon of Athens, or the Man-hater.  
96 Valiant Scot.  
97 Valentinian.  
98 Virtuous Wife, or good Luck at Last.  
99 Wit without Money.  
100 Woman Bully.  
101 The Wedding.  
102 The Rape, or the Innocent Imposture.  
103 Chances.  
104 Cambyses.  
105 Emperour of the Moon.  
106 Henry the Fifth.  
107 Mundus Muliebris.  
108 Sir Tho. Pope Blount's Essays.  
109 Art of Pleasing in Conversation.  
110 Cardinal Mazarin's Letters.  
111 The Lovers Secretary, in Four Parts.  
112 The Rival Mother.