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general request, with the addition of the last vertebræ of the 'rumpty-umpty-iddle-dy,' with the appurtenances thereunto belonging, alias the ' parson's nose,' truly cognomened, by the lord.” "Tom Cormorant ! Perhaps, Tom, you would prefer the dish, and divide the rumptyumpty for yourself. There, Sir; now I hope I have carved to your satisfaction: will you have the other?"

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"All in good time," said D'Urfey, laughing as his thoughts arose. Nay, you need not stop your nose, Sir; I spake but by a metaphor.'Hilloa! you boy," addressing the drawer, who was removing the dishes," leave that caponI shall take t'other. Pray show your skill in dissecting that also. I would spare your labour; but, I am weak in toil, yet strong in appetite.' What have we for the next course? sweetbreads and crinkum-crankums. Come, that is pretty. Mark you, lad, remember the devil'd kidnies, and tell the cook not to forget the toasted cheese. That cook's a treasure, gentlemen, only that he is growing fat too fast, the rogue; he stuffs so damnably. Take physic, you fool,' said I; I know better, my master, said he

This is your allegiance, hey? Sir Puffabout Dripping-pan,' said I. The fellow is honest, too, for he owns that Master Tom D'Urfey made him an artist."

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Wheugh!" whistled Mohun, "what a bouncer, Master Tom; why the said cusinier swears you are always poking and purring about the larder, and know no more of the art than his turn-spit."

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Says he so!" replied D'Urfey: "just of a piece with the world. All gratitude, like dead men's tavern-scores, is clean wiped out; and acknowledgment, admission, and confession are snoring on the shelf of forgetfulness. N'importe. Poor fellow, like old Caleb, our worthy host, he is getting fat-headed, apoplectic, and losing his memory."

"Very like, very like, my D'Urfey," said Davenant, "but our hostess says the same." "Yea," added Nokes, "and vows she'll have a dish-clout pinn'd to his tail.”

"The worse luck," replied Tom, who cared not a straw for the bantering. "O! here is mine host." At this moment old Caleb set before the president a dish of macaroni. This

was fortunate for the wit. "There now, mine host of the Devil, on your word, as a loyal subject, did I, or did I not, teach the art and mystery of cooking this Italian dish to that cook of thine? And do but mark the countenance that he will give me!'"

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Certainly you did, Master D'Urfey."

"That is hearty!-prime !-my noble tapster. Boy, bring your master a clean glass. Come, my honest host," filling that and his own, "here's long life to us, and may we live a thousand years."

"Thank you, Master D'Urfey. Here is my humble service to you, gentlemen, and I hope you approve of the wine."

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nant.

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Very good- very excellent," said Dave

Very good!" echoed D'Urfey, "why 'tis supernaculum. Pray, Master Caleb, how old may this good stuff be?”

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Why, Sir, I ought to remember, I laid it in the very spring when Barrister Prynne put down my old sign, and that was in the black year forty-nine, when they ended the troubles of

our late king. So, Gentlemen, it is eleven years. old, and about two months."

"Give me your hand, my worthy Anno Domini; here's a tablet; here's a notable scorekeeper."

"What a weathercock. But a minute since, mine host," said Mohun, " and that wine-bibber was abusing your memory."

"Ha-ha-ha, mine host knows a trick worth two o' that. Your living memory, Master Caleb ; but, were you gone the way of all flesh, if your memory should lack a kind record, then may small beer be my potion all the days of my pilgrimage."

"Old Caleb smiled, and bowing, left the room; when Nokes, groaning and turning up his eyes, exclaimed, "What reprobate ever before Made such a sinner of his memory to credit his own lie!'"

"And I don't write his life, on the hope of survivorship, there is no Virtue whipp'd out of court.' So note you that, too, my masters. At the same time, good Sir William, do spare me a spoonful or so of that macaroni; there, my

knight, don't be sparing, there's more pickles in the shop. Confound that cook-fellow's jobbernowl, he is so brave of his butter, and parsimonious of his parmesan. Boy, fetch me the Italian cheese: and ho! a grater. You may laugh, governor; but if the whole kitchen conclave could toast a slice of cheese fit to bait a mouse-trap, until I hammered it into their noddles, there's never a cuckold in Christendom."

Thus the social guests made merry, until the cloth was removed, when the table was covered with a dessert worthy the occasion. The meeting was convoked by Davenant, to treat with poets and players, or rather to muster the corps dramatique, previously to opening the playhouse in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, which had been shut up during the Interregnum.

Indeed, pending this long and gloomy period, Thalia never smiled, and Melpomene deprived of her mask, retired to weep at the moving tragedy of real life *.

* King Charles II. owed it to the players to give his countenance to the stage, for the actors had shewn

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