_Mast._ Well, Madam, be comforted, I will do it to your Satisfaction. [_Taking the Box._
_3 Lady._ Let me have one look more. Poor Creature! O cruel Fate, that Dogs are born to die. [Exit _weeping_.
_Gent._ What a Scene is here! Are not the real and unavoidable Evils of Life sufficient, that People thus create themselves imaginary Woes?
_Mast._ These, Sir, are the Griefs of those that have no other. Did they once truly feel the real Miseries of Life, ten thousand Dogs might die without a Tear.
_Mast._ Do you please to have it with Directions, or without?
_2 Gent._ Directions! what, how to use it?
_2 Gent._ I should think, every Man's own Business his best Direction.
_Mast._ It may so. Yet there are some general Rules, which it equally behoves every Man to be acquainted with. As for Instance: Always to make a Memorandum of the Benefits you receive from others. Always to set down the Faults or Failings, which from Time to Time you discover in yourself. And, if you remark any Thing that is ridiculous or faulty in others, let it not be with an ill-natur'd Design to hurt or expose them, at any Time, but with a _Nota bene_, that it is only for a Caution to your self, not to be guilty of the like. With a great many other Rules of such a Nature as makes one of my Pocket-books both a useful Monitor and a very entertaining Companion.
_2 Gent._ And pray, what's the Price of one of them?
_2 Gent._ That's very dear. But, as it's a Curiosity----[_Pays for it, and_ Exit.]
_Beau._ Pray, Sir, let me see some of your handsomest Snuff-boxes.
_Mast._ Here's a plain Gold one, Sir, a very neat Box; here's a Gold enamell'd; here's a Silver one neatly carv'd and gilt; here's a curious Shell, Sir, set in Gold.
_Beau._ Dam your Shells; there's not one of them fit for a Gentleman to put his Fingers into. I want one with some pretty Device on the Inside of the Lid; something that may serve to joke upon, or help one to an Occasion to be witty, that is, smutty, now and then.
_Mast._ And are witty and smutty then synonimous Terms?
_Beau._ O dear Sir, yes; a little decent Smutt is the very Life of all Conversation. 'Tis the Wit of Drawing-Rooms, Assemblies, and Tea-tables. 'Tis the smart Raillery of fine Gentlemen, and the innocent Freedom of fine Ladies. 'Tis a _Double Entendre_, at which the Coquet laughs, the Prude looks grave, the Modest blush, but all are pleas'd with.