Thrale said to him,
"'Sir, Miss Burney wonders at your patience with such stuff; but I
tell her you are used to me, for I believe I torment you with more
foolish questions than anybody else dares do.'
"'No, Madam,' said he, 'you don't torment me;--you teaze me, indeed,
sometimes.'
"'Ay, so I do, Dr. Johnson, and I wonder you bear with my nonsense.'
"'No, Madam, you never talk nonsense; you have as much sense, and
more wit, than any woman I know!'
"'Oh,' cried Mrs. Thrale, blushing, 'it is my turn to go under the
table this morning, Miss Burney!'
"'And yet,' continued the Doctor, with the most comical look, 'I have
known all the wits, from Mrs. Montagu down to Bet Flint!'
"'Bet Flint,' cried Mrs. Thrale; 'pray who is she?'
"'Oh, a fine character, Madam! She was habitually a slut and a
drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot.'
"'And, for heaven's sake, how came you to know her?'
"'Why, Madam, she figured in the literary world, too! Bet Flint wrote
her own life, and called herself Cassandra, and it was in verse. So
Bet brought me her verses to correct; but I gave her a half-a-crown,
and she liked it as well.'
"'And pray what became of her, Sir?'
"'Why, Madam, she stole a quilt from the man of the house, and he had
her taken up: but Bet Flint had a spirit not to be subdued; so when
she found herself obliged to go to jail, she ordered a sedan chair,
and bid her footboy walk before her. However, the boy proved
refractory, for he was ashamed, though his mistress was not.
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