Havard, the actor, (better known from the urbanity of his manners, by
the familiar name of Billy Havard) had the misfortune to be married to a
most notorious shrew and drunkard. One day dining at Garrick's, he was
complaining of a violent pain in his side. Mrs. Garrick offered to
prescribe for him. "No, no," said her husband; "that will not do, my
dear; Billy has mistaken his disorder; his great _complaint lies in his
rib_."
* * * * *
HOW TO SECURE A COACH.
A facetious friend of Dr. Kitchiner's, on a very wet night, after
several messengers, whom he had despatched for a coach, had returned
without obtaining one; at last, at "past one o'clock, and a rainy
morning," the wag walked himself to the next coach-stand, and politely
advised the waterman to mend his inside lining with a pint of beer, and
go home to bed; for said he, "there will be nothing for you to do to
night, I'll lay you a shilling that there's not a coach out." "Why, will
you, your honour? then done," cried Mr. Waterman; "but are you really
serious, 'cause, if so be as you be, I must make haste and go and get
one.
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