Chapter 17

_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.