gan
to ask him some plain questions, and whooped and hallooed in his ear:
"Let's come to the point. Nic., who wouldst thou have to be Lord Strutt?
Wouldst thou have Philip Baboon?" Nic. shook his head, and said nothing.
"Wilt thou, then, have Esquire South to be Lord Strutt?" Nic. shook his
head a second time. "Then who the devil wilt thou have? Say something
or another." Nic. opened his mouth and pointed to his tongue, and cried,
"A, a, a, a!" which was as much as to say he could not speak.

JOHN BULL.--"Shall I serve Philip Baboon with broadcloth, and accept
of the composition that he offers, with the liberty of his parks and
fishponds?" Then Nic. roared like a bull, "O, o, o, o!"

JOHN BULL.--"If thou wilt not let me have them, wilt thou take them
thyself?" Then Nic. grinned, cackled, and laughed, till he was like to
kill himself, and seemed to be so pleased that he fell a frisking and
dancing about the room.

JOHN BULL.--"Shall I leave all this matter to thy management, Nic.,
and go about my business?" Then Nic. got up a glass and drank to John,
shaking him by the hand till he had like to have shook his shoulder out
of joint.

JOHN BULL.--"I understand thee, Nic.; but I shall make thee speak before
I go." Then Nic. put his finger in his cheek and made it cry "buck!"
which was as much as to say, "I care not a farthing for thee."

JOHN BULL.--"I have done, Nic.; if thou wilt not speak, I'll make my own
terms with old Lewis here."

John, perceiving that Frog would not speak, turns to old Lewis: "Since
we cannot make this obstinate fellow speak, Lewis, pray condescend a
little to his humour, and set down thy meaning upon paper, that he may
answer it in another scrap."

"I am infinitely sorry," quoth Lewis, "that it happens so unfortunately;
for, playing a little at cudgels t'other day, a fellow has given me such
a rap over the right arm that I am quite lame. I have lost the use of my
forefinger and my thumb, so that I cannot hold my pen."

JOHN BULL.--"That's all one; let me write for you."

LEWIS.--"But I have a misfortune that I cannot read anybody's hand but
my own."

JOHN BULL.--"Try what you can do with your left hand."

LEWIS.--"That's impossible; it will make such a scrawl that it will not
be legible."

As they were talking of this matter, in came Esquire South, all dressed
up in feathers and ribbons, stark staring mad, brandishing his sword, as
if he would have cut off their heads, crying "Room, r