Let us turn now, to another portion of the London population, whose recreations present about as strong a contrast as can well be conceived — we mean the Sunday pleasurers […]
I'll to my brother: / Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, / Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour. / That had he twenty heads to tender down / On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, / Before his sister should her body stoop / To such abhorr'd pollution.
Will you allow me to present Sir George Evelyn to you?—the most accomplished coquet that ever 'Dealt destruction round the land On all he judged a foe;' under which denomination he ranks all women.
It's just a scratch!
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