BLUFF. Oh, I thought so. Why, then, you can know nothing, sir: I
am afraid you scarce know the history of the late war in Flanders,
with all its particulars.

SHARP. Not I, sir, no more than public letters or gazettes tell
us.

BLUFF. Gazette! Why there again now. Why, sir, there are not
three words of truth the year round put into the Gazette. I'll
tell you a strange thing now as to that. You must know, sir, I was
resident in Flanders the last campaign, had a small post there, but
no matter for that. Perhaps, sir, there was scarce anything of
moment done but an humble servant of yours, that shall be nameless,
was an eye-witness of. I won't say had the greatest share in't,
though I might say that too, since I name nobody you know. Well,
Mr. Sharper, would you think it? In all this time, as I hope for a
truncheon, this rascally gazette-writer never so much as once
mentioned me--not once, by the wars--took no more notice than as if
Nol. Bluffe had not been in the land of the living.

SHARP. Strange!

SIR JO. Yet, by the Lord Harry, 'tis true, Mr. Sharper, for I went
every day to coffee-houses to read the gazette myself.

BLUFF. Ay, ay, no matter. You see, Mr. Sharper, after all I am
content to retire; live a private person. Scipio and others have
done it.