Wid[ow]. Why, Man's Life is but a Flower, Mr. Jolly, and the Flower withers, and Man withers, as Mr. Knock-down obſerv'd laſt Sabbath-day at Evening Exerciſe: But, Neighbour, you're paſt the Flower, you've grown old as well as I— / Jol[ly]. I'the very Flower; that damn'd Quack-ſalver