_Col._ 'Tis granted, Madam, their Conversation's wondrous _Degaugée_-- we'll take 'em to refine us ev'ry Year. La. _Rod._ Sir _Harry_, what Diversions are a-foot; but _England_ is so phlegmatick a Climate, no Carnivals, nor Midnight-Masquerades, but Two and fifty Days lost ev'ry Year for want of Balls and Operas on a _Sunday_. Sir _Har._ Our Nation, Madam's so far gone in Parties, That Faction's even carry'd to Diversions, One Party strives for Sense, and t'other Sound; The _Major_ here, I think opposes both. _Bram._ So I do--What signifies a Comedy of Fools; han't we the Courts of _Westminster_ to divert us; and your Tragedies, where Kings and Emperors are murder'd; in a quarter of an Hour after they are at _Buxton's_ Coffee-House, playing at _All-Fours_; then your Singing-Op'ras, I hate your _Italian_ Squaling, like a Woman in Labour; and 'fore-gad, Madam, 'tis a most miraculous thing to me, that a Lady of your Experience, who has travers'd the World, and ought to know Nature in a wonderful Perfection, shou'd admire an Eunuch. La. _Rod._ You shou'd have liv'd in former Ages, _Major_, when odious Tilts and Tournaments were in Vogue; our Pleasures are too curious for your Taste, I fancy the _Bear-Garden_ suits your Genius mightily. _Bram._ Ay, Madam, there's Celestial Sport and Pastime; the Musick of the Dogs, the Harmony o' the Butchers, to see, a Mastiff tear a Bull by the Throat, the Bull once wounded, goring o'er the Ground, cants a fat Woman higher than the _Monument_--I love Reality in my Diversions; but at a _Play-House_ I never laugh'd but once, and that was at a most agreeable Noise the Footmen made in the Upper-Gall'ry. La. _Rod._ Savage Creature! _Nick._ Your brutish Temper, _Major_, wou'd make one fancy you were born in _Greenland_, and suckl'd by a _Wolf_. _Bram._ Better be suckl'd in _Greenland_ than in _Essex_; a _Wolf's_ a nobler Creature than a _Calf_; for now young Fellows are so nicely bred, so fondl'd, and so furbelow'd with Follies, they scarce retain the Species of a Man; for my part, I have Magick in my Looks, I have frighted a High-Priest into Quakerism; converted a _Jew_ to no Religion at all, and possess'd Squire _Lacy_ with a Spirit of Prophetick Lying; I can turn a Justice of Peace into a _Jack-Daw_, a Citizen into any tame kind of Beast, and an old fadling Judge into a fidgetting Dry-Nurse--But I find, Madam, you are got into a Beau-Chat, where my rough Language is as disagreeable, as martial Musick at _White_'s Chocolate-House; tho', were I a Lady of a great Estate, I'd show as great Sagacity in despising the Fops, and think my Fortune prodigiously repaid in the Affections of so renown'd a Person as _Major-Bramble_. [_Exit._ _All._ Ha, ha, ha. La. _Rod._ Oh Mr. _Nicknack_! I hear the _Bauble-Frigot_'s in the River, I'm on Tip-toes to see what's imported: Are the Catalogues out yet?