Perhaps a Moment thence, you shall behold him torturing his Brain; his Thoughts all stretcht upon the Rack for publick Service. The live-long Night, when all the World's at rest, consum'd in Care, and watching for their Safety, then by a Whirlwind in his Fate, in spight of him, some Mischief shall befall 'em, for which a furious Sentence strait shall pass, and they shall vote him to the Scaffold. Even thus uncertain are Rewards and Punishments; and even thus little do the People know, when 'tis the Statesman merits one or t'other. _Gent._ Now I do believe I am beginning to be a wise Man; for I never till now perceived I was a Fool. But do you then really believe, Sir, our Men in Business do the best they can? _Esop._ Many of 'em do: Some perhaps do not. But this you may depend upon; he that is out of Business is the worst Judge in the World of him that is in: First, Because he seldom knows any Thing of the Matter: And, Secondly, Because he always desires to get his Place. _Gent._ And so, Sir, you turn the Tables upon the Plaintiff, and lay the Fool and Knave at his Door. _Esop._ If I do him wrong, I'm sorry for't. Let him examine himself, he'll find whether I do or not. [_Exit ~Esop~._ _Gent._----Examine!----I think I have had enough of that already. There's nothing left, that I know of, but to give Sentence: And truly I think, there's no great difficulty in that. A very pretty Fellow I am, indeed! Here am I come bellowing and roaring two hundred Miles Post to find myself an Ass; when, with one Quarter of an Hour's Consideration, I might have made the self-same Discovery, without going over my Threshold. Well! if ever they send me on their Errand to reform the State again, I'll be damn'd. But this I'll do: I'll go home and reform my Family if I can: Them I'm sure I know. There's my Father's a peevish old Coxcomb: There's my Uncle's a drunken old Sot: There's my Brother's a cowardly Bully: Son _Numps_ is a lubberly Whelp: I've a great ramping Daughter, that stares like a Heifer: and a Wife that's a slatternly Sow. [_Exit._ _Enter a young, gay, airy Beau, who stands smiling contemptibly upon ~Esop~._ _Esop._ Well, Sir, what are you? _Beau._ A Fool. _Esop._ That's impossible!----for if thou wert, thou'd'st think thyself a wise Man. _Beau._ So I do--This is my own Opinion----the t'other's my Neighbour's. [_Walking airily about._ _Esop. gazing after him._] Have you any Business with me, Sir? _Beau._ Sir, I have Business with nobody, Pleasure's my Study. _Esop._ [_Aside._] An odd Fellow this!----Pray, Sir, who are you? _Beau._ I can't tell---- _Esop._----Do you know who I am? _Beau._ No, Sir: I'm a Favourite at Court, and I neither know myself, nor any body else. _Esop._ Are you in any Employment? _Beau._ Yes.