Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. We had a noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert. Dr. Johnson, in the middle of dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what was in some little pies that were near him. ‘Mutton,’ answered she; ‘so I don’t ask you to eat any, because I know you despise it.’ ‘No, madam, no,’ cried he; ‘I despise nothing that is good of its sort; but I am too proud now to eat of it. Sitting by Miss Burney makes me very proud to-day!’ ‘Miss Burney,’ said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, ‘you must take great care of your heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it; for I assure you he is not often successless.’ ‘What’s that you say, madam?’ cried he; ‘are you making mischief between the young lady and me already?’ A little while after he drank Miss Thrale’s health and mine, and then added: ‘’Tis a terrible thing that we cannot wish young ladies well without wishing them to become old women!’ ‘But some people,’ said Mr. Seward, ‘are old and young at the same time, for they wear so well that they never look old.’ ‘No, sir, no,’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘that never yet was; you might as well say they are at the same time tall and short. I remember an epitaph to that purpose, which is in——’ (I have quite forgot what,—and also the name it was made upon, but the rest I recollect exactly:) ‘—— lies buried here; So early wise, so lasting fair, That none, unless her years you told, Thought her a child, or thought her old.’ Mrs. Thrale then repeated some lines in French, and Dr. Johnson some more in Latin. An epilogue of Mr. Garrick’s to ‘Bonduca’ was then mentioned, and Dr. Johnson said it was a miserable performance, and everybody agreed it was the worst he had ever made. ‘And yet,’ said Mr. Seward, ‘it has been very much admired: but it is in praise of English valour, and so I suppose the subject made it popular.’ ‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Dr. Johnson, ‘anything about the subject, for I could not read on till I came to it; I got through half a dozen lines, but I could observe no other subject than eternal dulness. I don’t know what is the matter with David; I am afraid he is grown superannuated, for his prologues and epilogues used to be incomparable.’ ‘Nothing is so fatiguing,’ said Mrs. Thrale, ‘as the life of a wit; he and Wilkes are the two oldest men of their ages I know, for they have both worn themselves out by being eternally on the rack to give entertainment to others.’