HAST. (_Aside._) I see this fellow wants to give us his company, and forgets that he's an inn-keeper, before he has learned to be a gentleman. MARL. From the excellence of your cup my old friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business in this part of the country. Warm work, now and then, at elections, I suppose. HARD. No, sir, I have long given that work over. Since our betters have hit upon the expedient of electing each other, there's no business _for us that sell ale_. HAST. So, then you have no turn for politics I see. HARD. Not in the least. There was a time, indeed, I fretted myself about the mistakes of government, like other people; but, finding myself every day grow more angry, and the government growing no better, I left it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble my head about _Heyder Alley_, or _Ally Cawn_, than about _Ally Croaker_.—Sir, my service to you. HAST. So that with eating above stairs, and drinking below; with receiving your friends within, and amusing them without, you lead a good pleasant bustling life of it. HARD. I do stir about a great deal, that's certain. Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlour. MARL. (_After drinking._) And you have an argument in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster Hall. HARD. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little philosophy. MARL. (_Aside._) Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an inn-keeper's philosophy! HAST. So then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason manageable, you attack it with your philosophy; if you find they have no reason, you attack them with this.—Here's your health, my philosopher. _Drinks._ HARD. Good, very good, thank you; ha! ha! Your generalship puts me in mind of Prince Eugene, when he fought the Turks at the battle of Belgrade. You shall hear. MARL. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think it's almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy got in the house for supper? HARD. For supper, sir! (_Aside._) Was ever such a request to a man in his own house? MARL. Yes, sir; supper, sir: I begin to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish work to-night in the larder, I promise you. HARD. (_Aside._) Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld. (_To him._) Why really, sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy, and the cook-maid, settle these things between them. I leave these kind of things entirely to them. MARL. You do, do you? HARD. Entirely. By-the-by, I believe they are in actual consultation, upon what's for supper, this moment in the kitchen. MARL. Then I beg they'll admit _me_ as one of their privy council. It's a way I have got. When I travel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence I hope, sir.