_Heart._ Yes Sir, and I know what their Masters, Terence, Plautus, Moliere, and our own Johnson have done, who thought themselves most excellent in their Dialogue when they could make their Characters speak, not what was most witty, but what was most proper to Time, Place, Character, and Circumstance. _Lady._ Upon my Word, Mr. Heartly, you are a very accurate Critick, and I am entirely of your Judgment. _Cank._ Well, but allowing it all [it] deserves, why must it be praised so very much? _Heart._ Because, Sir, Praise is the food, and too often the only Reward of Merit; and none deny it but the ill natured and the envious. _Cank._ And none give it but the Ignorant or the Fulsome. _Heart._ Sir, that is not very Complaisant--pray Sir, who do you mean by the Ignorant? _Trif._ Ay, Sir, who is't you mean? _Sir Pat._ Ay, Sir, who do you mean? I hope you don't mean me. _Cank._ You, and all of you who like this Piece--You are Men, Fops in Understanding, catch your Judgments from each other as you do your Dress, not because they are right, but that they are the Fashion, _and you make as ridiculous a Figure in Criticism as an Ape in human Cloathing_. _Lady._ Give me leave to tell you, Mr. Canker, that you want Politeness. _Cank._ Madam, I am sorry your Ladyship obliges me to tell you that you want Judgment. _Lady._ Not to see into you, Sir--Your Envy shall never be rude or troublesome to any of my Family again, I assure you, Sir. _Cank._ Nor shall your Ignorance or your Niece's ever be troublesome to me again; I would as soon Match into a Family of Hottentots. _Lady._ O mighty well, Sir!--Harriet, I desire you will never think of Mr. Canker more. _Har._ I shall obey your Commands, Madam. _Lady._ Want Judgment! A Family of Hottentots! _Sir Pat._ Upon my Honour that was unpolite--and you might as well say I want Judgment. _Trif._ Ay, by Gad, or I. _Cank._ You are those kind of Judges who are brought into the Channel of Criticism by the Springtide of Fashion, part of the Rubbish which helps to swell it above the Mark of Truth, and with its Ebb, return as precipitately as you came in, and are never heard of more. _Trif._ Dullness seize me! If I understand what you mean by your Springtide, your Fashion, and your Rubbish--I insist upon the Play, [it] is a good Play--quite tip top, the best Play in life, split me! _Sir Pat._ Faith, so it is, Mr. Trifle, a very good Play, for the Author told me so himself--and you know it must be good when I had it from his own Mouth. _Lady._ Did you ever see the Author, Sir Patrick? _Sir Pat._ No, Madam, but I had it at second hand, from a third Parson, and that's the same thing, you know. _Omnes._ Ha! ha! ha! (_Enter a_ FOOTMAN) _Foot._ Mr. Advocate the Lawyer is come; he bid me inform your Ladyship that the Writings are ready. _Lady._ Very well. (_Exit Footman_) We shall [have] no Occasion for them tonight nor never in regard to Mr. Canker.