that copying bishop Berkeley, whom she had frequently heard declare, that when any speech was made to him, which might be construed either into a compliment or an affront, or that had two handles, he always took hold of the best.
The dean then asked Mrs. Pilkington, if she were a queen what she would choose to have after dinner? She answered, "your conversation, sir." "Pooh," said he, "I mean, what regale." "A dish of coffee, sir," answered she. "Why then," said he, "I will so far make you as happy as a queen; you shall have some in perfection: for, when I was chaplain to the earl of Berkeley, who was in the government here, I was so poor, I was obliged to keep a coffee house, and all the nobility resorted to it to talk treason." The dean then set about making the coffee: but the fire scorching his hand, he called to Mrs. Pilkington to reach him his glove; and changing the coffeepot to his left hand, held out his right one, ordering her to put the glove on it; which accordingly she did; when taking up part of his gown to fan himself with, and acting in character of a prudish lady, he said, "Well, I don't know what to think; women may be honest that do such things; but, for my part, I never could bear to touch any man's flesh — except my husband's; whom, perhaps," said he, "she wished at the devil."
"Mr. Pilkington," said he, "you would not tell me your wife's faults; but I have found her out to be a dn'd insolent, proud, unmannerly slut." "What has she done now?" said Mr. Pilkington. "Done," said the dean; "why nothing but sat there quietly, and never once offered to interrupt
