_Har._ O mighty well, Sir! Mighty well! I see you turn my Proposals into ridicule. (_Exit Harriet_) _Cank._ What shall I do? Was ever Man laid under such a Restraint by a _trifling_ Woman! The Bawble and Gewgaw of the Creation! Made for Man's Conveniency, his Slave not his Tyrant! To part with my right of Censuring, my Judgment, my Understanding! S'Death, I would as soon part with my---- (_Enter a_ SERVANT) _Serv._ Zir, here's Master Grubwit come to zeek you. _Cank._ Desire him to walk in. (_Enter_ GRUBWIT) _Cank._ Dear Grubwit, how came you to stay so long? You need not tell me of the Success! I have been sufficiently mortified with it already! Where is Plagiary? _Grub._ Talking with my Lady Critick and the rest of the Company. _Cank._ Did you call in at the Coffee House? _Grub._ Yes, or we should have been with you sooner. _Cank._ Well, and what's the Opinion there? _Grub._ Um--why faith, I am sorry to say it--but it is--generally liked; there is Trifle and a few more of his Size of Understanding in Rapture about it; he avers Antiquity never produced so correct nor so entertaining a Piece, and in his extravagant Manner, returns Jupiter thanks for his having lived in a time when such a Comedy was written. _Cank._ Blockheads! Fools! Idiots! what signifies Taste or Learning if such Wretches are suffered to have Sway in the Commonwealth of Letters! (_Enter_ PLAGIARY) _Plag._ A blundering Blockhead! He pretend to give his Judgment upon Writing! _Cank._ What's the matter, Plagiary? _Plag._ Why there's that staring Irish Baronet blundering out such fulsome Praise upon the New Play as is enough to make a sensible Man sick--I did but offer an Objection or two and my Lady Critick and the whole Knot opened upon me like a Pack of Hounds--I was forced to quit the Room. _Cank._ I am amazed at my Lady Critick's liking it but I will soon convince her of her Error. But dear Plagiary, was there no Opportunity, nor no Attempt to hinder its Success? _Plag._ _Not after it begun; before indeed, there was as promising a Spirit in the Pit as ever made an Author's Heart ache. They whistled, hollowed and catcalled and interrupted the Prologue for above ten Minutes._ _Cank._ Ay! That looked charming! _Plag._ O delightful!--I would not have given Sixpence to have secured its Destruction--everybody around me concluded it a gone Play. _Grub._ And so the[y] did about me I assure you. _Plag._ If they had been possessed with the Spirit of Zoilus, they could not have behaved better before the Prologue was spoke; but the Instant the Curtain was drawn up, their Clamour changed to a fixed Attention, and their Prejudice to burst of Applause which made the Ring. _Cank._ What, no hissing at all? _Plag._ No, Sir! _Cank._ Nor Catcalling? _Plag._ None. _Cank._ Nor groaning? _Plag._ Not one, Sir. _Cank._ Well if such Plays go down----