Hau. No god-a-mercy to our Courages tho, I tell you that now, _Gload_; but like an angry Wench, when it had huft and bluster’d it self weary, it lay still again. [Drinks. Gload. Hold, hold, Sir, you know we are to make Visits to Ladies, Sir; and this replenishing of our Spirits, as you call it, Sir, may put us out of Case. Hau. Thou art a Fool, I never made love so well as when I was drunk; it improves my Parts, and makes me witty; that is, it makes me say any thing that comes next, which 271 passes now-a-days for Wit: and when I am very drunk, I’ll home and dress me, and the Devil’s in’t if she resist me so qualify’d and so dress’d. Gload. Truly, Sir, those are things that do not properly belong to you. Hau. Your Reason, your Reason; we shall have thee witty too in thy Drink, hah! [Laughs. Gload. Why, I say, Sir, none but a Cavalier ought to be soundly drunk, or wear a Sword and Feather; and a Cloke and Band were fitter for a Merchant. Hau. _Salerimente_, I’ll beat any _Don_ in _Spain_ that does but think he has more right to any sort of Debauchery, or Gallantry than I, I tell you that now, _Gload_. Gload. Do you remember, Sir, how you were wont to go at home? when instead of a Periwig, you wore a slink, greasy Hair of your own, thro which a pair of large thin Souses appear’d, to support a formal Hat, on end thus— [Imitates him. Hau. Ha, ha, ha, the Rogue improves upon’t. [Gives him Brandy. Gload. A Collar instead of a Cravat twelve inches high; with a blue, stiff, starcht, lawn Band, set in print like your Whiskers; a Doublet with small Skirts hookt to a pair of wide-kneed Breeches, which dangled halfway over a Leg, all to be dash’d and dirty’d as high as the gartering. Hau. Ha, ha, ha, very well, proceed. [Drinks. Gload. Your Hands, defil’d with counting of damn’d dirty Money, never made other use of Gloves, than continually to draw them thro—thus—till they were dwindled into the scantling of a Cats-gut. Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Rascal. [Drinks. Gload. A Cloke, half a yard shorter than the Breeches, not thorow lin’d, but fac’d as far as ’twas turn’d back, with a pair of frugal Butter-hams, which was always manag’d—thus— Hau. Well, Sir, have you done, that I may show you this Merchant revers’d? 272 Gload. Presently, Sir; only a little touch at your Debauchery, which unless it be in damn’d Brandy, you dare not go to the Expence of. Perhaps at a Wedding, or some Treat where your Purse is not concern’d, you would most insatiably tipple; otherwise your two Stivers-Club is the highest you dare go, where you will be condemn’d for a Prodigal, (even by your own Conscience) if you add two more extraordinary to the Sum, and at home sit in the Chimney-Corner, cursing the Face of Duke _de Alva_ upon the Jugs, for laying an Imposition on Beer: And now, Sir, I have done.