Days.

_Par._ I can't abide to eat Butter; if they are fry'd with Oil, I shall
like 'em very well.

_Hi._ Boy, go ask _Margaret_ what they are fry'd in.

_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in neither.

_Hi._ What! neither in Butter nor Oil. In what then?

_Mo._ She says they are fry'd in Lye.

_Cr._ She has given you an Answer like your Question. What a great
Difficulty 'tis to distinguish Butter from Oil.

_Ca._ Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from a
Beet.

_Hi._ Well, you have had the Ovation, the Triumph will follow in Time.
Soho, Boy, look about you, do you perceive nothing to be wanting?

_Mo._ Yes, a great many Things.

_Hi._ These Eggs lack Sauce to allay their Heat.

_Mo._ What Sauce would you have?

_Hi._ Bid her send us some Juice of the Tendrels of a Vine pounded.

_Mo._ I'll tell her, Sir.

_Hi._ What, do you come back empty-handed?

_Mo._ She says, Juice is not used to be squeez'd out of Vine Tendrels.

_Le._ A fine Maid Servant, indeed!

_Sb._ Well, we'll season our Eggs with pleasant Stories. I found a Place
in the Epodes of _Horace_, not corrupted as to the Writing, but wrong
interpreted, and not only by _Mancinellus_, and other later Writers; but
by _Porphyry_ himself. The Place is in the Poem, where he sings a
Recantation to the Witch _Canidia_.

_tuusque venter pactumeius, et tuo
cruore rubros obstetrix pannos lavit,
utcunque fortis exilis puerpera._

For they all take _exilis_ to be a Noun in this Place, when it is a
Verb. I'll write down _Porphyry_'s Words, if we can believe 'em to be
his: She is _exilis_, says he, under that Form, as though she were
become deform'd by Travel; by Slenderness of Body, he means a natural
Leanness. A shameful Mistake, if so great a Man did not perceive that
the Law of the Metre did contradict this Sense. Nor does the fourth
Place admit of a Spondee: but the Poet makes a Jest of it; that she did
indeed bear a Child, though she was not long weak, nor kept her Bed long
after her Delivery; but presently jumpt out of Bed, as some lusty
lying-in Women used to do.

_Hi._ We thank you _Sbrulius_, for giving us such fine Sauce to our
Eggs.

_Le._ There is another Thing in the first Book of _Odes_ that is not
much unlike this. The _Ode_ begins thus: _Tu ne quae sieris._ Now the
common Reading is thus, _Neu Babylonios Tentaris numeros, ut melius
quicquid erit pati_. The antient Interpreters pass this Place over, as