on._ There's that fop now, has not by nature wherewithal
to move a cook-maid, and by that time these fellows have done with
him, egad he shall melt down a countess! But now for my reception;
I'll engage it shall be as cold a one as a courtier's to his
friend, who comes to put him in mind of his promise.

_Lord F._ (_to his tailor._) Death and eternal tortures! Sir, I say
the packet's too high by a foot.

_Tailor._ My lord, if it had been an inch lower it would not have
held your lordship's packet-handkerchief.

_Lord F._ Rat my packet-handkerchief! have not I a page to carry
it? You may make him a packet up to his chin a purpose for it; but
I will not have mine come so near my face.

_Tailor._ 'Tis not for me to dispute your lordship's fancy.

_Lord F._ Look you, Sir, I shall never be reconciled to this
nauseous packet, therefore pray get me another suit with all manner
of expedition, for this is my eternal salvation. Mrs. Calico, are
not you of my mind?

_Mrs. Cal._ O, directly, my lord! It can never be too low.

_Lord F._ You are positively in the right on't, for the packet
becomes no part of the body but the knee.

(_Exit tailor._)

_Mrs. Cal._ I hope your lordship is pleased with your steenkirk.

_Lord F._ In love with it, stap my vitals! bring your bill, you
shall be paid to-morrow.

_Mrs. C._ I humbly thank your honour. (_Exit._)

_Lord F._ Hark thee, shoemaker! these shoes an't ugly but they
don't fit me.

_Shoemaker._ My lord, methinks they fit you very well.

_Lord F._ They hurt me just below the instep.

_Shoe._ (_feeling his foot_) My lord, they don't hurt you there.

_Lord F._ I tell thee they pinch me execrably.

_Shoe._ My lord, if they pinch you I'll be bound to be hanged,
that's all.

_Lord F._ Why wilt thou undertake to persuade me that I cannot
feel?

_Shoe._ Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit; but
the shoe does not hurt you. I think I understand my trade.

_Lord F._ Now by all that's great and powerful thou art an
incomprehensible coxcomb! but thou makest good shoes and so I'll
bear with thee.

Tom Fashion personates his brother, Lord Foppington, and goes down to
the country seat of Sir Tunbelly Clumpsey, in hope of marrying his rich
daughter. The old Squire at first