_Sir Gr._ Hum, hum, hum. _Neece._ Say he be black, he's of a very good pitch, Well ankled, two good confident calves, they look As if they would not shrink at the ninth child; The redness i'th face, why that's in fashion, Most of your high bloods have it, sign of greatness marry; 'Tis to be taken down too with _May_-butter, I'll send to my Lady _Spend-tail_ for her Medicine. _Sir Gr._ Lum te dum, dum, dum, de dum. _Neece._ He's qualified too, believe me. _Sir Gr._ Lum te dum, de dum, de dum. _Neece._ Where was my judgement? _Sir Gr._ Lum te dum, dum, dum, te dum, te dum. _Neece._ Perfections cover'd mess. _Sir Gr._ Lum te dum, te dum, te dum. _Neece._ It smoaks apparantly, pardon sweet Sir, The error of my Sex. _Old K._ Why, well [s]aid Neece, Upon submission you must pardon her now, Sir. _Sir Gr._ I'll do't by course, do you think I'm an ass, Knight? Here's first my hand, now't goes to the Seal-Office. _Old K._ Formally finisht, how goes this Suit forward? _Cun._ I'm taking measure of the Widows mind, Sir, I hope to fit her heart. _Guard._ Who would have dreamt Of a young morsel now? things come in minutes. _Sir Gr._ Trust him not Widow, he's a younger brother, He'll swear and lie; believe me he's worth nothing. _Guard._ He brings more content to a woman with that nothing, Than he that brings his thousands without any thing, We have presidents for that amongst great Ladies. _Old K._ Come, come, no language now shall be in fashion, But your Love-phrase, the bell to procreation. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Sir Ruinous Gentry, Witty-pate, _and_ Priscian. _Witty._ Pox, there's nothing puts me besides my wits, but this fourth, This last illiterate share, there's no conscience in't. _Ruin._ Sir, it has ever been so, where I have practis'd, and must be. Still where I am, nor has it been undeserv'd at the years End, and shuffle the Almanack together, vacations and Term-times, one with another, though I say't, my wife is a Woman of a good spirit, then it is no lay-share. _Pris._ Faith for this five year, _Ego possum probare_, I have had A hungry penurious share with 'em, and she has had as much As I always. _Witty._ Present, or not present? _Pris. Residens aut non residens, per fidem._ _Witty._ And what president's this for me? because your _Hic & hac_, _Turpis_ and _Qui mihi discipulus_ brains (that never got any thing but by accidence and uncertainty) did allow it, therefore I must, that have grounded conclusions of wit, hereditary rules from my Father to get by-- _Ruin._ Sir, be compendious, either take or refuse, I will 'bate no token of my wives share, make even the last reckonings, and either so unite, or here divide company.