_Twi._ Thank you--thank you a thousand times--[_Writes._] I'll mention a battle very soon. _Mean._ Not directly. _Twi._ O, no--let me alone for time and place--go on, my friend--go on--her Ladyship-- _Mean._ Descended from the ancient kings of Scotland. _Twi._ You don't say so! _Mean._ And though she is so nicely scrupulous as never to mention the word genealogy, yet I have seen her agitation so great, when the advantages of high birth have been extoll'd, she could scarcely withhold her sentiments of triumph; which in order to disguise, she has assumed a disdain for all "vain titles--empty sounds--and idle pomp." _Twi._ Thank you--thank you--this is a most excellent _trait_ of the Lady's--[_Writes._] "Pedigree of the kings of Scotland?" O, I have her at once. _Mean._ Yet do it nicely--oblique touches, rather than open explanations. _Twi._ Let me alone for that. _Mean._ She has, I know, in her possession--but I dare say she wou'd not show it you, nay, on the contrary, would even _affect_ to be highly offended, if you were to mention it--and yet it certainly would flatter her, to know you were acquainted with her having it. _Twi._ What--what--what is it? _Mean._ A large old-fashioned wig--which Malcolm the third or fourth, her great ancestor, wore when he was crowned at Scone, in the year---- _Twi._ I'll mention it. _Mean._ Take care. _Twi._ O, let me alone for the _manner_. _Mean._ She'll pretend to be angry. _Twi._ That I am prepared for.--Pray who is my Lord Flint? _Mean._ A deep man--and a great favourite at court. _Twi._ Indeed!--how am I to please him? _Mean._ By insinuations against the _present_ Sultan. _Twi._ How! _Mean._ With all his pretended attachment, his heart---- _Twi._ Are you _sure_ of it? _Mean._ Sure:--he blinds Sir Luke, (who by the bye is no great politician) but I know his Lordship--and if he thought he was sure of his ground--(and he thinks he _shall_ be sure of it soon)--then-- _Twi._ I'll insinuate myself and join his party--but, in the mean time, preserve good terms with Sir Luke, in case any thing shou'd fall in my way there.--Who is Mr. Haswell? _Mean._ He pretends to be a man of principle and sentiment--flatter him on that. _Twi._ The easiest thing in the world--no people like flattery better than such as he.--They will bear even to hear their _vices_ praised.--I will myself undertake to praise the vices of a man of sentiment till he shall think them so many virtues.--You have mentioned no Ladies, but the Lady of the house yet. _Mean._ There is no other Lady, except a pretty girl who came over from England, about two years ago, for a husband, and not succeeding in another part of the country, is now recommended to this house--and has been here three or four months. _Twi._ Let me alone, to please her. _Mean._ Yes--I believe you are skilled. _Twi._ For the art of flattery, no one more. _Mean._ But damn it--it is not a liberal art.