y, if you'll tell me your name, I'll tell you mine, d' ye see;
for, one good turn desarves another, as the old saying is, and, evil be to
them that evil thinks, every tub must stand upon its own bottom, and, when
the steed is stolen, shut the stable door, and, while the grass grows, the
mare starves--the horse I mean; it don't make no odds, a horse is a mare,
but a mare an't a horse, as father says, d' ye see--and----

LOVEYET. What a monstrous combination of nonsense!

HUMPHRY. Don't tell me what I am, but tell me what I have been--

LOVEYET. Prithee, Mr. Sancho, let's have no more of those insipid proverbs.
You was going to tell me your name.

HUMPHRY. My name is Cubb,--Humphry Cubb, at your sarvice, as the saying is.

LOVEYET. Hah! my worthy friend Frankton----

_Enter FRANKTON._

FRANKTON. My best, my long expected Charles! your arrival has made me the
happiest man alive.

[_They embrace._

LOVEYET. I am heartily glad to see you, George, and to meet you so
opportunely; 'tis not fifteen minutes since I landed on my native soil, and
you are the very person, above every other in the city, whom I wish'd first
to see.

FRANKTON. Then you have not forgot your friend.

LOVEYET. Far from it, Frankton; be assured that the joy I now feel at
meeting with _you_, is by no means the least I expect to experience.

FRANKTON. Our satisfaction is then mutual--your friends are all happy and
well, and I know your arrival will not a little contribute to _their_
felicity, as well as mine--but who have you here, Loveyet? Landed not
fifteen minutes ago, and in close confab with one of our Boors already?

HUMPHRY. A boar! why you're worser than he there--he only took father's
_corn_ for _pigs_, but do you take _me_ for a _boar_, eigh? Do I look like
a _hog_, as the saying is?

FRANKTON. Begone, you illiterate lubber!--My dear Charles, I have a
thousand things to say to you, and this is an unfit place for conversation.

LOVEYET. We will adjourn to the Coffee-House.

FRANKTON. No, you shall go with me to my lodgings.

HUMPHRY. Why, what a cruel-minded young dog he is! See how he swaggers and
struts--he looks very like the Pharisee's head, on old _Coming Sir_, honest
Dick Tipple's sign, I think--No, now I look at him good, he's the very
moral of our Tory.

LOVEYET. I wait your pleasure, Frankton.

FRANKTON. Then allons!

[_Exeunt