Will. This is the Part of a good Poet.

Bert. And it would be a heinous Offence, if in the mean Time any Body should say, Take away this Dish, there’s no Body eats.  You must sit your Time appointed, which I think they measure by the Hour-Glass.  At length, out comes that bearded Fellow, or the Landlord himself, in a Habit but little differing from his Servants, and asks how cheer you?  And by and by some better Wine is brought.  And they like those best that drink most, tho’ he that drinks most pays no more than he that drinks least.

Will. A strange Temper of the Nation!

Bert. There are some of them that drink twice as much Wine as they pay for their Ordinary.  But before I leave this Entertainment, it is wonderful what a Noise and Chattering there is, when once they come to be warm with Wine.  In short, it deafens a Man.  They oftentimes bring in a Mixture of Mimicks, which these People very much delight in, tho’ they are a detestable Sort of Men.  There’s such a singing, prating, bawling, jumping, and knocking, that you would think the Stove were falling upon your Head, and one Man can’t hear another speak.  And this they think is a pleasant Way of living, and there you must sit in Spight of your Heart till near Midnight.

Will. Make an End of your Meal now, for I myself am tir’d with such a tedious one.

Bert. Well, I will.  At length the Cheese is taken away, which scarcely pleases them, except it be rotten and full of Maggots.  Then the old bearded Fellow comes again with a Trencher, and a many Circles and semi-Circles drawn upon it with Chalk, this he lays down upon the Table, with a grim Countenance, and without speaking.  You would say he was some Charon.  They that understand the Meaning of this lay down their Money one after another till the Trencher is fill’d.  Having taken Notice of those who lay down, he reckons it up himself, and if all is paid, he gives you a Nod.

Will. But what if there should be any Thing over and above?

Bert. Perhaps he’ll give it you again, and they oftentimes do so.

Will. Does no Body find fault with the Reckoning?

Bert. No Body that is wise.  For they will say, what Sort of a Fellow are you?  You pay no more than the rest.

Will. This is a frank Sort of Men, you are speaking of.

Bert. If any one is weary with his Journey, and desires to go to Bed as soon as he has supp’d, he is bid to stay till the rest go too.

Will. This seems to me to be Plato’s City.

Bert. Then every one is shew’d to his Chamber, and truly ’tis nothing else but a Chamber, there is only a Bed there, and nothing else that you can either make Use of or steal.

Will. Are Things very clean there?

Bert. As clean as they were at the Table.  Sheets wash’d perhaps six Months ago.