make a similitude. If it were not for the words he contrives to make clink with one another at the end of every line, his verses would be little better than what a body may call mere stuff.
Enter Dolly.
DOLLY.
You'll never write such good ones tho', for all your great wisdom, Mr. David.
DAVID.
Ay, you're a good judge to be sure! I'm sure you could not read them though they were printed in big letters before your nose, hussy. You can tell us, I make no doubt of it, how his julep tastes, and how his breath smells after the garlic peels that he takes to lay the cold wind in his stomach, and how his ruffled night cap becomes him too; for you have been very serviceable to him of late, and not very sparing of your visits to his chamber of an evening; but as for his verses, Mrs. Doll, you had better be quiet about them.
DOLLY.
I say his verses are as pretty verses as any body would desire, and I don't care a rush what you say about his night-cap or his garlic.
DAVID.
Lord, Lord! to hear how women will talk about what they don't understand! Let me see now if you
