_Luck_. Mr Bookweight, your servant. Who can form to himself an
idea more amiable than of a man at the head of so many patriots
working for the benefit of their country.
_Book_. Truly, sir, I believe it is an idea more agreeable to you
than that of a gentleman in the Crown-office paying thirty or forty
guineas for abusing an honest tradesman.
_Luck_. Pshaw! that was only jocosely done, and a man who lives
by wit must not be angry at a jest.
_Book_. Look ye, sir, if you have a mind to compromise the
matter, and have brought me any money--
_Luck_. Hast thou been in thy trade so long, and talk of money to
a modern author? You might as well have talked Latin or Greek to
him. I have brought you paper, sir.
_Book_. That is not bringing me money, I own. Have you brought me
an opera?
_Luck_. You may call it an opera if you will, but I call it a
puppet-show.
_Book_. A puppet-show!
_Luck_. Ay, a puppet show; and is to be played this night at
Drury-lane playhouse.
_Book_. A puppet-show in a playhouse!
_Luck_. Ay, why, what have been all the playhouses a long while
but puppet-shows?
_Book_. Why, I don't know but it may succeed; at least if we can
make out a tolerable good title-page: so, if you will walk in, if I
can make a bargain with you I will. Gentlemen, you may go to dinner.