+Bright.+ I thought all wit had ended at Fleetbridge; But wit that goes o' th' score, that may extend, If't be a courtier's wit, into Cheapside. +Plot.+ Your mercer lives there, does he? I warrant you, He has the patience of a burnt heretic. The very faith that sold to you these silks, And thinks you'll pay for 'em, is strong enough To save the infidel part o' th' world or Antichrist. +Bright.+ W' are most mechanically abused. +New.+ Let's tear his jacket off. +Bright.+ A match! take that side. +Plot.+ Hold, hold! +Bright.+ How frail a thing old velvet is! it parts With as much ease and willingness as two cowards. [_They tear off his jacket._ +New.+ The tend'rest weed that ever fell asunder. +Plot.+ Ha' you your wits? What mean you? +Bright.+ Go, put on One of thy Temple suits, and accompany us, Or else thy dimity breeches will be mortal. +Plot.+ You will not strip me, will you? +New.+ By thy visible ears, we will. +Bright.+ By this two-handed beaver, which is so thin And light, a butterfly's wings put to't would make it A Mercury's flying hat, and soar aloft. +Plot.+ But do you know, to how much danger You tempt me? Should my uncle know I come Within the air of Fleet Street---- +New.+ Will you make Yourself fit for a coach again, and come Along with us? +Plot.+ Well, my two resolute friends, You shall prevail. But whither now are your Lewd motions bent? +New.+ We'll dine at Roseclap's: there We shall meet Captain Quartfield and his poet; They shall show us another fish. +Bright.+ But, by the way, we have agreed to see A lady, you mechanic. +Plot.+ What lady? +New.+ Hast not thou heard of the new-sprung lady? +Bright.+ One That keeps her coachman, footboy, woman, and spends A thousand pounds a year by wit. +Plot.+ How? wit! +New.+ That is her patrimony, sir. 'Tis thought The fortune she is born to will not buy A bunch of turnips. +Plot.+ She is no gamester, is she? Nor carries false dice? +Bright.+ No, but has a tongue, Were't in a lawyer's mouth, would make him buy All young heirs near him. +Plot.+ But does no man know from whence she came? +Bright.+ As for her birth, she may Choose her own pedigree: it is unknown Whether she be descended of some ditch Or duchess. +New.+ She's the wonder of the court And talk o' th' town. +Plot.+ Her name? +New.+ Aurelia. +Plot.+ I've heard of her. They say she does fight duels, And answers challenges in wit. +Bright.+ She has been thrice in the field. +Plot.+ I' th' field? +New.+ Yes, in Spring Garden; Has conquer'd, with no second but her woman, A Puritan, and has return'd with prizes. +Plot.+ And no drum beat before her?