_Dull._ Here, _Nell_--Well, Lieutenant _Boozer_, what are you for? Enter _Nell_. _Booz._ I am for cooling _Nants_, Major. _Dull._ Here, _Nell_, a Quart of _Nants_, and some Pipes and Smoke. _Tim._ And do ye hear, _Nell_, bid your Mistress come in to joke a little with us; for, adzoors, I was damnable drunk last Night, and I am better at the Petticoat than the Bottle to day. [Exit _Nell_. _Dull._ Drunk last Night, and sick to Day! how comes that about, Mr. Justice? you use to bear your Brandy well enough. _Tim._ Ay, your shier Brandy I’ll grant you; but I was drunk at Col. _Downright’s_ with your high Burgundy Claret. _Dull._ A Pox of that paulter Liquor, your _English French_ Wine, I wonder how the Gentlemen do to drink it. _Tim._ Ay, so do I, ‘tis for want of a little _Virginia_ Breeding: how much more like a Gentleman ‘tis, to drink as we do, brave edifying Punch and Brandy.--But they say, the young Noblemen now, and Sparks in _England_, begin to reform, and take it for their Mornings draught, get drunk by Noon, and despise the lousy Juice of the Grape. Enter Mrs. _Flirt_, and _Nell_, with drink, pipes, etc. _Dull._ Come, Landlady, come, you are so taken up with Parson _Dunce_, that your old Friends can’t drink a Dram with you.--What, no smutty Catch now, no Gibe or Joke to make the Punch go down merrily, and advance Trading? Nay, they say, Gad forgive ye, you never miss going to Church when Mr. _Dunce_ preaches,--but here’s to you. [Drinks. _Flirt._ Lords, your Honours are pleas’d to be merry-- but my service to your Honour. [Drinks. _Haz._ Honours! who the Devil have we here? some of the wise Council at least, I’d sooner take ‘em for Hoggerds. [Aside. _Flirt._ Say what you please of the Doctor, but I’ll swear he’s a fine Gentleman, he makes the prettiest Sonnets, nay, and sings ‘em himself to the rarest Tunes. _Tim._ Nay, the Man will serve for both Soul and Body; for they say he was a Farrier in _England_, but breaking, turn’d Life-guard-man, and his Horse dying, he counterfeited a Deputation from the Bishop, and came over here a substantial Orthodox. But come, where stands the Cup? Here, my service to you, Major. _Flirt._ Your Honours are pleased,--but methinks Doctor _Dunce_ is a very edifying Person, and a Gentleman, and I pretend to know a Gentleman; for I my self am a Gentlewoman: my Father was a Baronet, but undone in the late Rebellion, and I am fain to keep an Ordinary now, Heaven help me. _Tim._ Good lack, why, see how Virtue may be bely’d. We heard your Father was a Taylor, but trusting for old _Oliver’s_ Funeral broke, and so came hither to hide his Head.--But my service to you; what, you are never the worse?