_Brun._ I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation. [Sir _Cred._ and _Fat_ seeming in Discourse. Sir _Cred._ Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir-- [Drinks.] Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in all _Devonshire_. _Fat_ D. And I the finest Spaniel, Sir. [Here they all talk together till you come to--_purpose, Sir_. _Turb._ Pray, what News is there stirring? _Brun._ Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whether _Lewis_ or _Philip_ have the better or the worst. _Turb._ Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing. _Brun._ You are i’th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir. _Leyd._ Well, Sir, _Stetin_ held out nobly, though the Gazettes are various. _Amst._ There’s a world of Men kill’d they say; why, what a shame ‘tis so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician. _Leyd._ Hang ‘em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my service to you, Sir, they’ll serve to fill up Trenches. Sir _Cred._ Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses better than my self. _Fat_ D. Your pardon for that, Sir. Sir _Cred._ For look ye, Sir, I’ll tell you the Nature of Dogs and Horses. _Fat_ D. So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what’s this to th’ purpose, Sir? [Here they leave off. Sir _Cred._ To th’ purpose, Sir! good Mr. _Hedleburgh_, do you understand what’s to th’ purpose? you’re a _Dutch_ Butter-ferkin, a Kilderkin, a Double Jug. _Fat_ D. You’re an ignorant Blockhead, Sir. Sir _Cred._ You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again. _Amst._ What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession. Sir _Cred._ That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is’t since you left Toping and Napping, for Quacking, good Brother Cater-tray?--but let that pass, for I’ll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with no Man, and so I drink.-- [Goes to fill again. _Brun._ --But, what’s all this to the Patient, Gentlemen? Sir _Cred._ Ay,--the Wine’s all out,--and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive necessary to be said for our Fees. _Fat_ D. I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he’s a dead Man. Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, a dead Man. _Fat_ D. Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor. [To _Amst._ _Amst._ Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I at the Board. Sir _Cred._ A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dying [Aside.] --Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years. [They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other. _Amst._ I commenc’d at _Paris_ twenty years ago. _Leyd._ And I at _Leyden_, almost as long since. _Fat_ D. And I at _Barcelona_ thirty. Sir _Cred._ And I at _Padua_, Sir. _Fat_ D. You at _Padua?_