SHE STOPS TO CONQUER

She stops to conquer

Mrs. Savage; I vow, Mr. Savage, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole country but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town now and then, to rub off the rust a little? Even our neighbors, Mrs Smith and the Fisher's, go to take a month's polishing every winter.

Mr Savage replied, that's true and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at home! In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. It's fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket.

your times were fine said Mrs savage, fine times indeed; you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here, we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all world like in a inn, but never see company. Our best visitors are Mrs. Sarah, the curate's wife, and little Crippledgate, the lame dancing master: and all our entertainment your old stories, I hate such old fashioned trumpery.

And I love it said Mr Savage I love everything that's old; old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wines and of cause old wife.

My Lord, Mr Savage, you're forever at your Dorothy's and your Old wife's. you may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you make me, by more than a year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that.

Mr Savage moves closer to Mrs savage, let me see; twenty added to twenty, makes just fifty seven. Mrs savage looked at Mr Savage and said it's false, Mr.Savage: I was but twenty when I brought to bed of Anthony, that I had by Mr. Peter, my first husband.

Never will, I dare answer for him. Any you have taught him finely said Mr Savage.

No matter, my boy Anthony peter has a good fortune, my son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year.

Mr Savage laugh, learning quota! A mere composition of tricks and mischief.

Humor my love, nothing but humor, you must allow the boy a little humor said Mrs. Savage.

I'd sooner allow him an horse-pond. If burning the footmen's shoes, fighting the maids and worrying about kittens, be humour, he has it, it was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to take a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs. Capable face.

Mrs.Savage gave a loud laugh and said am I to blame? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. when he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's latin may do for him?

Mr Savage gave a shocking look; Latin for him! A cat and fiddle, No no, the ale house and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to.

well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us Anybody that looks in his face may see he's consumptive.

Mr. Savage replied yes, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms.

you know he is sick, he coughs sometimes said Mrs. Savage.

Yes, that is when is liquor goes the wrong way.

I am actually afraid of his Lungs.

so am I said Mr. Savage, for he sometimes whoops like a speaking trumpet.

Oh there he goes, a very consumptive figure.