to
morrow is our Country-Court, pray do not fail to be there, for the
rarity of the Entertainment: but I shall see you anon at _Surelove's_,
where I'll salute thee as my first meeting, and as an old Acquaintance
in _England_--here's Company, farewel.
[Exit _Friend_.

Enter _Dullman_, _Timorous_ and _Boozer_. _Hazard_ sits
at a Table and writes.

_Dull._ Here, _Nell_--Well, Lieutenant _Boozer_, what are you for?

Enter _Nell_.

_Booz._ I am for cooling _Nants_, Major.

_Dull._ Here, _Nell_, a Quart of _Nants_, and some Pipes and Smoke.

_Tim._ And do ye hear, _Nell_, bid your Mistress come in to joke a
little with us; for, adzoors, I was damnable drunk last Night, and I am
better at the Petticoat than the Bottle to day.
[Exit _Nell_.

_Dull._ Drunk last Night, and sick to Day! how comes that about, Mr.
Justice? you use to bear your Brandy well enough.

_Tim._ Ay, your shier Brandy I'll grant you; but I was drunk at Col.
_Downright's_ with your high Burgundy Claret.

_Dull._ A Pox of that paulter Liquor, your _English French_ Wine,
I wonder how the Gentlemen do to drink it.

_Tim._ Ay, so do I, 'tis for want of a little _Virginia_ Breeding: how
much more like a Gentleman 'tis, to drink as we do, brave edifying Punch
and Brandy.--But they say, the young Noblemen now, and Sparks in
_England_, begin to reform, and take it for their Mornings draught, get
drunk by Noon, and despise the lousy Juice of the Grape.

Enter Mrs. _Flirt_, and _Nell_, with drink, pipes, etc.

_Dull._ Come, Landlady, come, you are so taken up with Parson _Dunce_,
that your old Friends can't drink a Dram with you.--What, no smutty
Catch now, no Gibe or Joke to make the Punch go down merrily, and
advance Trading? Nay, they say, Gad forgive ye, you never miss going to
Church when Mr. _Dunce_ preaches,--but here's to you.
[Drinks.

_Flirt._ Lords, your Honours are pleas'd to be merry-- but my service to
your Honour.
[Drinks.

_Haz._ Honours! who the Devil have we here? some of the wise Council at
least, I'd sooner take 'em for Hoggerds.
[Aside.

_Flirt._ Say what you please of the Doctor, but I'll swear he's a fine
Gentleman, he makes the prettiest Sonnets, nay, and sings 'em himself to
the rarest Tunes.

_Tim._ Nay, the Man will serve for both Soul and Body; for they say he
was a Farrier in _England_, but breaking, turn'd Life-guard-man, and his
Horse dying, he counterfeited a Deputation from th