Cutter of Coleman-street.
47
shall foot Stokins in a Stall for me, or make Childrens Caps in a Garret fifteen stories high.
Joll.For that matter (for though thou speak'st no sense I guess thy brutish meaning) the Law will allow her honorable Alimony out o' your Foolship's Fortune.
Pun.And the Law will allow me her Portion too, good Colonel Uncle, you'r not too big to be brought into Westminster-hall; nay, Captain, his Niece uses me worse too, she will not let me touch the Nail of her little finger, and rails at me like a Flounder-mouth'd Fish-woman with a face like Billingsgate.
Joll.What flesh can support such an affected Widgen, who ha's not a design to cheat him of something as that Vermin ha's? well, I shall be able to Live now I hope as befits a Gentleman, and therefore I'le endure the company of Fopps and Knaves no longer.
Wor.Come Colonel, let's go in, and dispute the difference conscienciously over a Bottle o' Sack.
Joll.I keep no Tavern, Worm; or if I did, thy whole Estate would hardly reach to a Gill.
Wor.Colonel, thou art grown Unkind, and art Drunk this afternoon without me.
Joll.Without thee, Buffoon? why I tell thee, thou shall never shew that Odd, Pimping, Cheating face o' thine within my Doors agen, I'le turn away any man o' mine that shall disparage himself to drink with such a fellow as thou art.
Wor.As I? why what am I? pray? Mighty Colonel!
Joll.Thou art or hast been every thing that's ill, there is no Scandalous way of Living, no Vocation of the Devil, that thou hast not set up in at one time or other; Fortune ha's Whip'd thee about through all her streets; Thou 'rt one that Lives like a Raven, by Providence and Rapin; now thou 'rt feeding upon that raw young fellow, and doest Devour and Kaw him; thou 'rt one that if thou should'st by chance go to Bed sober, would'st write it down in thy Almanack, for an Unlucky day; sleep is not the Image of Death to thee, unless thou bee'st Dead drunk; Thou art— I know not what— thou'rt any thing, and shall be to me herafter nothing.
Pun.This Colonel pisses Vinegar to day.
Wor.This is uncivil Language Colonel to an old Camerade, and one of your own party.
Joll.My Comrade? o' my party thou? or any but the party of the Pick-purses!
Pun.
