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Show At U o 1"\ 1\p W L1 ‘ c M flm .!Il.\ mzr 2, 4 Cowar 1\l bea wa Yo \ QX On them \ Polt ma Vi A S, FTAN 3 e o[2tion {0 the good f on in O VEI&S""bt Honour a Pox on his Honour I'l {ooner trult the honour ofa Couatry Horfe-Courfer, than one of the Publicans and Sinners ofthat odious Town. They never pay fo much as a. Taylors-Bill till it comes to Execution » But I'l have Spaster-Brain by the back the nex Term, though he be my Sifters Son. But how does my dapple Mare Tooy. She''s much difcontented to hear her Neighbours Whiney over their Oatsand Beans, while fhe is fain to mortif with-a poor lock of Hay Clodp. You Rogue, you wou'd have her as fat, and as fogays as my Landlady the Hofte(s. I care not what pret.ld among| my Neighbours in s#/fex, but I'd not have a Rogue fo nea that'dama'd Town of Lowdon get a farthing by me Wood. Belides fome dull Encomiums upon a Country life, and difcourfe of his ferving. the Nation with his Magiltracy popularity, and Houfe-keeping, you fee the belt & worft of him. Bev. But 1s his hatredto London (o inveterate as is reported Wood. Six times more. Since ‘twas burnt he calls it nothine bu Epfom Wells Toby. 1 have, Sir, every day [ince he came to Ep/om, an yelterday he faid upon his Honour he would pay me, and wen immediately. to London ?\") "'IGU \1~ ¢lodp. Did you call upon my Cozen Spatter-Brarz ot tha Interelt money due to me this Midflummer Clodp \§odore he is fuch a Villain he fwear the Frenchma that: was hang'd for burning on't was a Martyr; he was fo gla at the burning of it, that ever fince he has kept the fecond o Septemever a Feltival 5 he thinks a Woman cannot be honelt fcarce found that comes within the {mell on't, he isfhock'd.a¢ the very.nameé on't Bev, I have heard thas the reafons of his hatred, are, becaufe he has been beaten, clapt, and cheated there Razness Pox on him, he hasfound us, andthere's no avoid- g him, Clodp O Mr, Woodly, how isit? You drink no Waters3 b have you had your other Mornings draught yer Woodly. .Xes, I never leave off my Evenings draught till it he- comes my Mornings draught Clodp« Mr. Rains and Revill, gad (ave ye; how de' like the Country |