AN artist named Forfeit, having some job to do for Foote, got into a

foolish scrape about the antiquity of family with another artist, who

gave him such a drubbing as confined him to his bed for a considerable

time. Forfeit! Forfeit! said Foote, why, surely you have the best of

the argument; your family is not only several thousand years old, but

at the same time the most numerous of any on the face of the globe, on

the authority of Shakespeare:--

All the souls that are, were Forfeit once.

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