Charles Lack-wit will have it given out, he is retired into the country, only for the reputation of being thought a man of fashion, when all the while his retirement is to be incessantly hurried with the violence of a madman after a pack of yelping hounds; or brutally murdering whole months of delicious time in noisy laughter, wine, and ribaldry, with Sir Jolly Timberscull, 'Squire Humdrum, and the rest of the club of gentlemen sporters.