"_Dashall._--I give him my note for double the sum--he discounts it--I touch half in the ready--note comes due--double the sum again--touch half again--and so on to the tune of fifty thousand pounds. If monopolies answer, make all straight; if not; smash into the Gazette. Brother merchants say, 'D----d fine fellow; lived in style--only traded beyond his capital.' So certificate's signed, ruin a hundred or two reptiles of retailers, and so begin the war again. That's the way to make a splash--devilish neat, isn't it? How you stare! you don't know nothing of life, old boy. "_Caustic._--Vulgar scoundrel! "_Dashall._--We are the boys in the city. Why, there's Sweetwort the brewer--don't you know Sweetwort? Dines an hour later than any duke in the kingdom--imports his own turtle--dresses turbot by a stop watch--has house-lamb fed on cream, and pigs on pine apples--gave a jollification t'other day--stokehole in the brew-house--asked a dozen peers--all glad to come--can't live as we do. Who make the splash in Hyde Park?--who fill the pit at the opera?--who inhabit the squares in the West? Why, the knowing ones from the East to be sure. "_Caustic._--Not the wise ones from the East, I'm sure. "_Dashall._--Who support the fashionable Faro tables? Oh, how the duchesses chuckle and rub their hands, when they see one of us! "_Caustic._--Duchesses keep gaming-tables! "_Dashall._--To be sure! How the devil should they live?"