"Sherry’s a handy fellow; egad, I know no better! He’ll tie a fly with any man, and is as good with sword or quarterstaff as he is with his fists. Well now, ’tis drawing towards dinner-time; come and dine with me; the people of fashion here dine at four, but I stick to country habits. We’ll go to Locket’s at Charing Cross; you’re my guest to-day. And we’ll go to the play this evening; the first time, I warrant you, you’ve seen a play. Come! I stand well with the people at Locket’s, and the sharp air this morning has given me an appetite." It was but five minutes’ walk to Locket’s tavern. Entering, Fanshawe bowed with elaborate courtesy to the fair dame in charge, and called for the card. "There’s boiled beef and carrots, I see, and a goose, and look, a calf’s head. I adore calf’s head. What say you? Yes? Boy, bring calf’s head for two, and quickly." With calf’s head and cabbage and a wedge of Cheshire cheese, the two young fellows appeased their unjaded appetites. Fanshawe sat for some time finishing his bottle of wine, Harry contenting himself with small beer. Then, as there still remained a few hours to while away before theatre time, Fanshawe proposed a row on the river. Harry eagerly assented; they sallied forth, took boat at Westminster stairs and rowed up to Chelsea, returning to Westminster in time for the performance of Mr. Colley Cibber’s new play, "She would and she would not", by Her Majesty’s Servants at Drury Lane. Harry was delighted with his first visit to the theatre. He was tickled at the unabashed impertinence of Trappanti the discarded servant, played by Mr. Penkethman, one of the best comedians in London, as Fanshawe informed him; and fell in love with Hypolita the heroine, a part which suited Mrs. Mountford to perfection. But he was perhaps most interested in Mr. Colley Cibber himself, who played the part of Don Manuel the irascible father. His pleasure was complete when, after the performance, Fanshawe took him to the Bull’s Head tavern, and showed him Mr. Cibber with his paint washed off, surrounded by a circle of actors, soldiers, lords, and even clergymen. He had never seen an author before. Mr. Cibber had no presence to boast of, with his thick legs, lean face, and sandy hair; but the liveliness of his conversation gave him a sort of pre-eminence among his coterie, and made a considerable impression on a youth ready to admire and wonder at anything. Fanshawe appeared quite at home among the company. He was indeed a frequent visitor at the Bull’s Head after the play, where all were welcome on condition of providing their quota towards the general hilarity. Fanshawe was the lucky possessor of a fine baritone voice, and his spirited singing of west-country songs had won him instant popularity. On this night, in response to the usual call, he began—