_Plag._ I pulled out my Handkerchief and blowed--and coughed--and hawked--and spit, a hundred times I believe, (_Makes a noise by blowing in his Handkerchief_) but was constantly interrupted with "Silence--pray, Sir, be silent--let us hear." _Grub._ I heard you from the other side of the Pit and did the same but was interrupted too by the Fools about me. _Cank._ To see the partiality of Audiences--Idiots--damn 'em, they never would attend to a Play of mine. _Grub._ Nor mine. _Plag._ No nor mine. _Cank._ They always begun with me in the first Act by calling for the Epilogue. Dear Plagiary, do you think this thing will run? _Plag._ I am afraid so. _Cank._ _Why then your Tragedy cannot come out this year_---- _Plag._ No Sir, nor your Comedy. _Grub._ Nor my Mask. _Cank._ Isn't it monstrous that the Publick must be deprived of such an excellent performance as your Mask is, which is preferable to anything Milton ever wrote for such a wretched _flimsy piece of Stuff_? _Grub._ Upon my word, Sir, I think the Publick is much worse used in respect of your Comedy, which has the Art and Character of Johnson, the Ease and Elegance of Etheridge, the Wit of Congreve, and the happy ridiculum of Moliere; and is indisputably the best that has been written in our Language. _Plag._ Was there ever such Injustice shewn in a Theatre as the setting aside my Tragedy _which has the Approbation of all the Judges in England_? _Cank._ It is severe Treatment no Doubt on't for your Piece stands in the first Class of Tragedy; it is written according to the strictest French Rules, and for the true Sublime as far beyond Shakespear as Banks is beneath him. But what signifies the Excellence of a Piece? Neither your Tragedy, my Comedy, nor your Mask can come on. The Stage is quite monopolized for this Year if this Thing, I can't call it a Play, is suffered to run. _Plag._ Ay, and what is worse, if some means is not found out to check it, ten to one but we shall be plagued with another next year. _Grub._ Well, what's to be done? _Cank._ Why Gentlemen, it is a Common Cause, and requires an active Opposition. We must try fairly to hunt it down by Journals, Epigrams and Pamphlets;--you must attack the Characters,--you the Sentiments and Dialogue, while I expose the Moral and the Fable. _Plag._ With all my Heart. _Grub._ Agreed. And now let us join the Company and try if we can't bring them over to our Party; for tho' the most of them are Idiots, yet they will serve to fill up the Cry, which you know is the present Test of Right and Wrong. (_Exit_) _Plag._ Pray did you ever read his Mask? _Cank._ I attempted to read it several times but could never get through it. _Plag._ It is the vilest Thing sure that ever dullness produced. And yet the Fools are as fond of it as if Apollo and the Nine had approved it. Amazing that Men can be so blind to their own Foibles. (_Exit_)