_L. Plau._ Well, tell not me, my dear friend, what people deserve; I ne'er mind that. I, like an author in a dedication, never speak well of a man for his sake, but my own; I will not disparage any man, to disparage myself: for to speak ill of people behind their backs, is not like a person of honour; and, truly, to speak ill of 'em to their faces, is not like a complaisant person. But if I did say or do an ill thing to anybody, it should be sure to be behind their backs, out of pure good manners. _Man._ Very well; but I, that am an unmannerly sea-fellow, if I ever speak well of people, (which is very seldom indeed,) it should be sure to be behind their backs; and if I would say or do ill to any, it should be to their faces. I would jostle a proud, strutting, overlooking coxcomb, at the head of his sycophants, rather than put out my tongue at him when he were past me; would frown in the arrogant, big, dull face of an overgrown knave of business, rather than vent my spleen against him when his back were turned; would give fawning slaves the lie whilst they embrace or commend me; cowards whilst they brag; call a rascal by no other title, though his father had left him a duke's; laugh at fools aloud before their mistresses; and must desire people to leave me, when their visits grow at last as troublesome as they were at first impertinent. _L. Plau._ I would not have my visits troublesome. _Man._ The only way to be sure not to have 'em troublesome, is to make 'em when people are not at home; for your visits, like other good turns, are most obliging when made or done to a man in his absence. A pox! why should any one, because he has nothing to do, go and disturb another man's business? _L. Plau._ I beg your pardon, my dear friend.--What, you have business? _Man._ If you have any, I would not detain your lordship. _L. Plau._ Detain me, dear sir!--I can never have enough of your company. _Man._ I'm afraid I should be tiresome: I know not what you think. _L. Plau._ Well, dear sir, I see you'd have me gone. [_Aside._ _Man._ But I see you won't. _L. Plau._ Your most faithful-- _Man._ God be w'ye, my lord. _L. Plau._ Your most humble-- _Man._ Farewell. _L. Plau._ And eternally-- _Man._ And eternally ceremony--[_Aside._] Then the devil take thee eternally. _L. Plau._ You shall use no ceremony, by my life. _Man._ I do not intend it. _L. Plau._ Why do you stir then? _Man._ Only to see you out of doors, that I may shut 'em against more welcomes. _L. Plau._ Nay, faith, that shall not pass upon your most faithful humble servant. _Man._ Nor this any more upon me. [_Aside._ _L. Plau._ Well, you are too strong for me. _Man._ [_Aside._] I'd sooner be visited by the plague; for that only would keep a man from visits, and his doors shut. [_Exit thrusting out_ Lord PLAUSIBLE. _1st Sail._ Here's a finical fellow, Jack! What a brave fair-weather captain of a ship he would make!