
Fenton
remarked an unusual Pleasantry in the Muscles of his Darling's sweetly sober Countenance. My
Harry
I find, said he, does not always impart all his Secrets to his Friends; he has certainly some roguish Matter in Cogitation.
Magicum calles,
Sir, cried
Harry,
You are a Conjurer, that's certain. Why, the Public, as you know, Sir, have put the FOOL on me from my Birth;
Homer
says that Revenge is sweet as Honey to the Taste; and so I am meditating in turn how to put the FOOL upon the Public. And how do you contrive it,
Harry?
only by acting the old Proverb, that,
one Fool makes Many.
But pray ask me not about the Manner, till I bring the Business to some Bearing.
The next Day, being
Thursday,
they All went, in Mr.
Fenton
's Coach, to
Smithfield,
where Numbers of Tents were set up, and several Drolls and Pantomimes,
&c.
prepared, in Imitation of the Humours of
Bartholemew
Fair. The Weather was fair and calm, and they let down all the Glasses, that they might see, without Interruption, whatever was to be seen.
Their Coach stopped just opposite to an itinerant Stage, where a Genius, who comprised, within his single Person, the two important Functions of a Tumbler and Merry-Andrew, by his successive Action and Oratory, extorted Plaudits and Huzzas from all the Spectators.
Among the rest, a Countryman, who rode upon a Mule, sat gaping and grinning, by Intervals, in all the extatic Rapture that can be ascribed to Enthusiasm. While his Attention was thus rivetted, two knavish Wags came, and, ungirthing his Saddle, supported it on either hand, till a Third of the Fraternity led his Mule away from under him, and a Fourth came with a three legged Horse, such as Houswives dry their Linnen on, and, having jammed it under the Saddle, they all retreated in Peace.
The Populace were so delighted at this humorous Act of Felony, that, instead of interrupting it, it only served to redouble their Joys and Clamours.
Harry,
too, greatly chuckled and laughed at the Joke. But, when he saw the Beast led off, and that the amazed Proprietor, on stooping to take the Bridle, had fallen precipitately to the Ground, his Heart twitched him with a Kind of Compunction, and, throwing himself out at the Coach Window, he made all the Speed that the Press would admit, and, recovering the Mule, brought it back to its Owner.
