_Wit_. I throw an idle hour away there sometimes. When I am in an ill-humour I am sure of feeding it there with all the scandal in town, for no bawd is half so diligent in looking after girls with an uncracked maidenhead as she in searching out women with cracked reputations. _Luck_. The much more infamous office of the two. _Wit_. Thou art still a favourer of the women, I find. _Luck_. Ay, the women and the muses--the high roads to beggary. _Wit_. What, art thou not cured of scribling yet? _Luck_. No, scribling is as impossible to cure as the gout. _Wit_. And as sure a sign of poverty as the gout of riches. 'Sdeath! in an age of learning and true politeness, where a man might succeed by his merit, there would be some encouragement. But now, when party and prejudice carry all before them; when learning is decried, wit not understood; when the theatres are puppet-shows, and the comedians ballad-singers; when fools lead the town, would a man think to thrive by his wit? If you must write, write nonsense, write operas, write Hurlothrumbos, set up an oratory and preach nonsense, and you may meet with encouragement enough. Be profane, be scurrilous, be immodest: if you would receive applause, deserve to receive sentence at the Old Bailey; and if you would ride in a coach, deserve to ride in a cart. _Luck_. You are warm, my friend. _Wit_. It is because I am your friend. I cannot bear to hear the man I love ridiculed by fools--by idiots. To hear a fellow who, had he been born a Chinese, had starved for want of genius to have been even the lowest mechanick, toss up his empty noddle with an affected disdain of what he has not understood; and women abusing what they have neither seen nor heard, from an unreasonable prejudice to an honest fellow whom they have not known. If thou wilt write against all these reasons get a patron, be pimp to some worthless man of quality, write panegyricks on him, flatter him with as many virtues as he has vices. Then, perhaps, you will engage his lordship, his lordship engages the town on your side, and then write till your arms ake, sense or nonsense, it will all go down. _Luck_. Thou art too satirical on mankind. It is possible to thrive in the world by justifiable means. _Wit_. Ay, justifiable, and so they are justifiable by custom. What does the soldier or physician thrive by but slaughter?--the lawyer but by quarrels?--the courtier but by taxes?--the poet but by flattery? I know none that thrive by profiting mankind, but the husbandman and the merchant: the one gives you the fruit of your own soil, the other brings you those from abroad; and yet these are represented as mean and mechanical, and the others as honourable and glorious. _Luck_. Well; but prithee leave railing, and tell me what you would advise me to do. _Wit_. Do! why thou art a vigorous young fellow, and there are rich widows in town. _Luck_. But I am already engaged.