Enter Major Bramble.

Heav’n guard the Court!—­What cursed Plot’s now hatching, that brings the grumbling Major to the Park?

Bram. The Government, Sir Harry, will ne’er suspect my policy at plotting, when I have no more sense than to trust a Wit with it; but the Company I keep, may with wondrous ease form a Plot past your finding out.

Sir Har. What, cowardly Bullies, tatter’d Gam’sters, and Fellows that have been twice transported, poor, unhappy scoundrels that disturb the Nation to please you rich Male-Contents, and are hang’d for their reward.

Bram. Those Gentlemen, Sir Harry, you’re pleas’d to term scoundrels, I honour; he that takes sanctuary in the Fleet, has an immediate place in my Heart; the Heroes of the Mint are a formidable Body, magnanimously sowse ev’ry Fellow in a Ditch that dares to infringe their Liberties; he that’s committed to Newgate is in a fair way to Immortality;—­He that stands in the Pillory is exalted to a very high Station; the Observator is my very good Friend; and he that writes the Review a Person of a most incomparable Assurance.

Col. But where’s the Satisfaction of admiring what’s Rascally?

Bram. You’re mistaken, Sir, Virtue’s oppress’d; these are the only Men of worth i’the Nation, and since the World’s compos’d chiefly of Knaves and Hypocrites, it behoves ev’ry honest Fellow to over-reach the World; therefore he that runs away from his Creditors is a Man of admirable Principles, and his Creditors are very great Rogues.

Col. But why d’you hate the Government, Major, what harm has that done you.

Bram. Why, Sir, I was formerly in a very good Office, was turn’d out for Bribery, and have had none giv’n me since, therefore while the Government takes no notice of me, I’ll take no notice of the Government.

Sir Har. You are a Person, Major, the Government ought to take notice of, I assure you—­And d’you think a Man of your Character and Conversation qualify’d for a publick Post.

Bram. Certainly, Sir Harry, who makes a better Soldier than a Midnight-Scourer; who proves a sharper Judge than a Serjeant that takes Fees on both sides; or who thumps the Cushion better than he that has thumpt all the Wives i’the Parish; therefore that am acquainted with all you call Rogues i’the Kingdom, think my self notably qualify’d for a Custom-House-Officer—­but whether the Government employs us, or not, my Companions are the happiest People i’the World; we meet ev’ry Day at a House within the Rules of the Fleet, where we have fat Venison, that’s Stole out of Windsor-Park; French Wine, that’s Run i’the Wild o’ Kent; drink Confusion to our Arms, and talk Treason, till the Vintner crys, Huzza, Drawer bring in my Bottle.  And there are of our Club, Four Broken-Officers, Six Suborning-Attorneys, a Disaffected-Cobler, Two Highway-Men, and Eleven Jacobite, Outlaw’d-Parsons.