This freedom of mine gave umbrage to Bragwell, who testified his displeasure by swearing a few threats, without making any application; which, being perceived by Slyboot, who sat by me, he, with a view of promoting a quarrel, whispered to me, that he thought Bragwell used me very ill, but every man was the best judge of his own affairs. I answered aloud, that I would neither suffer Mr. Bragwell nor him to use me ill with impunity; and that I stood in no need of his counsel in regard to the regulation of my conduct. He thought proper to ask a thousand pardons, and assure me he meant no offence; while Bragwell feigned himself asleep, that he might not be obliged to take notice of what passed. But the player, who had more animal spirits and less discretion than Slyboot, unwilling to let the affair rest where he had dropped it, jogged Mr. Bragwell and told him softly that I had called him names, and threatened to cudgel him. This particular I understood by his starting, up and crying, “Blood and wounds, you lie! No man durst treat me so ignominiously. Mr. Random, did you call me names, and threaten to drub me?” I denied the imputation, and proposed to punish the scoundrel who endeavoured to foment disturbance in the company. Bragwell signified his approbation, and drew his sword; I did the same, and accosted the actor in these words: “Lookee, Mr. Ranter; I know you possess all the mimicry and mischievous qualities of an ape, because I have observed you put them all in practice more than once to-night, on me and others; now I want to see if you resemble one in nimbleness also; therefore, I desire you leap over this sword without hesitation.” So saying, I held it parallel to the horizon, at the distance of about three feet from the floor, and called, “Once-twice-thrice—and away!” but, instead of complying with my demand, he snatched his hat and hanger, and, assuming the looks, swagger, and phrase of Pistol, burst out into the following exclamation, “Ha! must I then perform inglorious prank of sylvan ape in mountain forest caught! Death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days, and lay my head in fury’s lap—Have we not Hiren here?” This buffoonery did not answer his expectation, for, by this time, the company was bent on seeing him in a new character. Mr. Banter desired me to hold my sword a foot or two higher, that he might have the better opportunity of exerting himself. The painter told him, if he performed well, he would recommend him as a vaulter to the proprietors of Sadler’s Wells; and Bragwell crying, “Leap for the King!” applied the point of his sword to the player’s posteriors with such success, that he sprang over in a trice, and, finding the door unguarded, vanished in a twinkling; glad, no doubt, of having paid his share of the reckoning so easily.