ave not kill'd above my five or six this Week.

_Brun._ How, Sir, kill'd?

_Turb._ Kill'd, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the
grand _Verole_; for 'tis not for a Man's Credit to let the Patient want
an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill'd ye my five or six
dozen a Week--but times are hard.

_Brun._ I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of
Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to
sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation.
[Sir _Cred._ and _Fat_ seeming in Discourse.

Sir _Cred._ Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir--
[Drinks.] Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in all _Devonshire_.

_Fat_ D. And I the finest Spaniel, Sir.
[Here they all talk together till you come to--_purpose, Sir_.

_Turb._ Pray, what News is there stirring?

_Brun._ Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whether
_Lewis_ or _Philip_ have the better or the worst.

_Turb._ Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.

_Brun._ You are i'th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.

_Leyd._ Well, Sir, _Stetin_ held out nobly, though the Gazettes are
various.

_Amst._ There's a world of Men kill'd they say; why, what a shame 'tis
so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.

_Leyd._ Hang 'em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my
service to you, Sir, they'll serve to fill up Trenches.

Sir _Cred._ Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses
better than my self.

_Fat_ D. Your pardon for that, Sir.

Sir _Cred._ For look ye, Sir, I'll tell you the Nature of Dogs and
Horses.

_Fat_ D. So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what's this to th' purpose,
Sir?
[Here they leave off.

Sir _Cred._ To th' purpose, Sir! good Mr. _Hedleburgh_, do you
understand what's to th' purpose? you're a _Dutch_ Butter-ferkin,
a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.

_Fat_ D. You're an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.

Sir _Cred._ You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.

_Amst._ What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.

Sir _Cred._ That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is't since
you left Toping and Napping, for Quacking, good Brother Cater-tray?--but
let that pass, for I'll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with
no Man, and so I drink.--
[Goes to fill again.

_Brun._ --But, what's all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?

Sir _Cred._ Ay,--the Wine's all out