_Wid._ No, no; I have reading work enough of my own in my bag, I thank you. _Old._ Ay, law, madam; but here's a poem, in blank verse, which I think a handsome declaration of one's passion. _Wid._ O, if you talk of declarations, I'll show you one of the prettiest penned things, which I mended too myself, you must know. _Old._ Nay, lady, if you have used yourself so much to the reading harsh law, that you hate smooth poetry, here is a character for you, of-- _Wid._ A character! nay, then I'll show you my bill in chancery here, that gives you such a character of my adversary, makes him as black-- _Old._ Pshaw! away, away, lady! But if you think the character too long, here is an epigram, not above twenty lines, upon a cruel lady, who decreed her servant should hang himself, to demonstrate his passion. _Wid._ Decreed! if you talk of decreeing, I have such a decree here, drawn by the finest clerk-- _Old._ O lady, lady, all interruption, and no sense between us, as if we were lawyers at the bar! but I had forgot, Apollo and Littleton never lodge in a head together. If you hate verses, I'll give you a cast of my politics in prose. 'Tis "a Letter to a Friend in the Country;" which is now the way of all such sober solid persons as myself, when they have a mind to publish their disgust to the times; though perhaps, between you and I, they have no friend in the country. And sure a politic, serious person may as well have a feigned friend in the country to write to, as an idle poet a feigned mistress to write to. And so here's my letter to a friend, or no friend, in the country, concerning the late conjuncture of affairs, in relation to coffee-houses; or, "The Coffee-man's Case." _Wid._ Nay, if your letter have a case in't, 'tis something; but first I'll read you a letter of mine to a friend in the country, called a letter of attorney. _Re-enter_ FREEMAN, _with_ JERRY BLACKACRE _in an old gaudy suit and red breeches of_ FREEMAN'S. _Old._ What, interruption still! O the plague of interruption! worse to an author than the plague of critics. [_Aside._ _Wid._ What's this I see? Jerry Blackacre, my minor, in red breeches! What, hast thou left the modest seemly garb of gown and cap for this? and have I lost all my good inns-of-chancery breeding upon thee then? and thou wilt go a-breeding thyself from our inn of chancery and Westminster Hall, at coffee-houses, and ordinaries, play-houses, tennis-courts, and bawdy-houses? _Jer._ Ay, ay, what then? perhaps I will; but what's that to you? Here's my guardian and tutor now, forsooth, that I am out of your huckster's hands. _Wid._ How! thou hast not chosen him for thy guardian yet? _Jer._ No, but he has chosen me for his charge, and that's all one; and I'll do anything he'll have me, and go all the world over with him; to ordinaries, and bawdy-houses, or anywhere else.