CHAPTER CXXXVI.—p. 367.

THE PEDIGREE AND BIRTH OF NOBS, GIVEN IN REPLY TO THE FIRST QUERY IN THE SECOND CHAPTER P. I.

_Theo._ Look to my Horse, I pray you, well.

_Diego._ He shall Sir.

_Inc._ Oh! how beneath his rank and call was that now! Your Horse shall be entreated as becomes A Horse of fashion, and his inches.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

INTERCHAPTER XVI.—p. 373.

THE AUTHOR RELATES SOME ANECDOTES, REFERS TO AN OPINION EXPRESSED BY A CRITIC ON THE PRESENT OPUS, AND DESCANTS THEREON.

Every man can say B to a battledore, and write in praise of virtue and the seven liberal sciences; thresh corn out of full sheaves, and fetch water out of the Thames. But out of dry stubble to make an after-harvest, and a plentiful crop without sowing, and wring juice out of a flint, that is Pierce a God's name, and the right trick of a workman.

NASH.

THE DOCTOR, &c.