CHARLEY. I will, my Lord, and if he looks this way, I'll give him such a devilish grin as best suits such fellows as him, and make him remember it as long as he lives. PARAMOUNT. Do so, Charley; I hate the dog mortally, I religiously hate him, and hope ere long to have satisfaction for his insolence and the freedoms he has taken with me and my connections: I shall never forget the many scandalous verses, lampoons and pasquinades he made upon us. CHARLEY. Indeed, he has used your Lordship too ill ever to be forgotten or forgiven. PARAMOUNT. Damn him, I never intend to do either--See again how he bows--there again--how the mob throw up their hats, split their throats; how they huzza too; they make a mere god of the fellow; how they idolize him--Ignorant brutes! CHARLEY. A scoundrel; he has climb'd up the stilts of preferment strangely, my Lord. PARAMOUNT. Strangely, indeed; but it's our own faults. CHARLEY. He has had better luck than honester folks; I'm surpris'd to think he has ever rose to the honour of presenting a remonstrance, or rather, that he could ever have the impudence to think of remonstrating. PARAMOUNT. Aye, Charley, you see how unaccountably things turn out; his audacity is unparalleled--a Newgate dog. CHARLEY. My Lord, I believe the fellow was never known to blush; and, indeed, it's an observation I made some time ago, and I believe a just one, without an exception, that those who squint never blush. PARAMOUNT. You must be mistaken, Charley. CHARLEY. No, my Lord, it's a fact, I had an uncle squinted exactly like him, who was guilty of many scandalous things, and yet all the parish, with the parson at their head, could not make him blush, so that at last he became a by-word--Here comes old shame-the-devil; this dog is the very spawn of him. PARAMOUNT. Hoot, mon, ye give your uncle a shocking character. CHARLEY. I only mention it, my Lord, for the similarity's sake. PARAMOUNT. For the spawn of him, and the similarity's sake, I'm apt to think you've been abusing your own cousin all this while. CHARLEY. God forbid, my Lord, I should be any how allied to him. PARAMOUNT. I fancy, Charley, if the truth was known, your uncle did not mention you in his will, and forgot to leave you the mansion-house and farm at Gallows-hill. Am I right, Charley? CHARLEY. You're right, my Lord, upon my honour--but-- PARAMOUNT. I thought so--Well, never mind--Ha, ha, ha, who are those two fat fellows there, that go in such state? CHARLEY. I suppose them to be a couple of Livery Tallow-chandlers, my Lord, by their big bellies. PARAMOUNT. Ha, ha,--what work the guards would make amongst them--but they must not be called yet.--And who are those other two behind 'em? CHARLEY. This is Mr. Hone, and the other Mr. Strap, a couple of the Corporation Barbers, forsooth. PARAMOUNT. Ha, ha, ha, I thought they had been a couple of Dukes;--and that one--who is he with the monstrous wig? CHARLEY. That is Mr. Alderman Pipeshank, in Newgate-street.