"And, egad, she's in the right on't; but, mind now, she comes upon her scoop. [_Reads._] All this I did, your arguments to try. "And, egad, if they had been never so good, this next line confutes 'em. [_Reads._] Hear, and be dumb, thou wretch! that guide am I. "There's a surprize for you now!--How sneakingly t'other looks?--Was not that pretty now, to make her ask for a guide first, and tell her she was one? Who could have thought that this little mouse had the Pope, and a whole general council, in her belly?--Now Dapple had nothing to say to this; and, therefore, you'll see she grows peevish. [_Reads._] Come leave your cracking tricks; and, as they say,} Use not that barber that trims time, delay;-- } Which, egad, is new, and my own.-- } I've eyes as well as you to find the way."-- } Then on they jogged; and, since an hour of talk Might cut a banter on the tedious walk, "As I remember," said the sober Mouse, "I've heard much talk of the Wit's Coffee-house." "Thither," says Brindle, "thou shalt go, and see Priests sipping coffee, sparks and poets tea, Here, rugged frieze; there, quality well drest; These, baffling the Grand Seigneur; those, the Test; And here shrewd guesses made, and reasons given, That human laws were never made in heaven. But, above all, what shall oblige thy sight, And fill thy eye-balls with a vast delight, Is the poetic Judge of sacred wit,[77] Who does i'the darkness of glory sit. And as the moon, who first receives the light With which she makes these nether regions bright, So does he shine, reflecting from afar The rays he borrowed from a better star; For rules, which from Corneille and Rapin flow, Admired by all the scribbling herd below, From French tradition while he does dispense, } Unerring truths, 'tis schism,--a damned offence,--} To question his, or trust your private sense. } "Ha! is not that right, Mr Johnson?--Gad forgive me, he is fast asleep! Oh the damned stupidity of this age! Asleep!--Well, sir, since you're so drowsy, your humble servant. _John._ Nay, pray, Mr Bayes! Faith, I heard you all the while.--The white mouse---- _Bayes._ The white mouse! Ay, ay, I thought how you heard me. Your servant, sir, your servant. _John._ Nay, dear Bayes: Faith, I beg thy pardon, I was up late last night. Prithee, lend me a little snuff, and go on. _Bayes._ Go on! Pox, I don't know where I was.--Well, I'll begin. Here, mind, now they are both come to town. [_Reads._] But now at Piccadilly they arrive, And, taking coach, t'wards Temple-Bar they drive; But, at St Clement's church, eat out the back, And, slipping through the palsgrave, bilked poor hack.