_Smith._ I have heard, indeed, you have had lately many new plays; and our country wits commend 'em. _Johns._ Ay, so do some of our city wits too; but they are of the new kind of wits. _Smith._ New kind! what kind is that? _Johns._ Why, your virtuousi; your civil persons, your drolls; fellows that scorn to imitate nature; but are given altogether to elevate and surprise. _Smith._ Elevate and surprise! prithee, make me understand the meaning of that. _Johns._ Nay, by my troth, that's a hard matter: I don't understand that myself. 'Tis a phrase they have got among them, to express their no-meaning by. I'll tell you, as near as I can, what it is. Let me see; 'tis fighting, loving, sleeping, rhyming, dying, dancing, singing, crying; and everything, but thinking and sense. MR. BAYES _passes over the stage_. _Bayes._ Your most obsequious, and most observant, very servant, sir. _Johns._ Odso, this is an author. I'll go fetch him to you. _Smith._ No, prithee let him alone. _Johns._ Nay, by the Lord, I'll have him. [_Goes after him._ Here he is; I have caught him. Pray, sir, now for my sake, will you do a favour to this friend of mine? _Bayes._ Sir, it is not within my small capacity to do favours, but receive 'em; especially from a person that does wear the honourable title you are pleased to impose, sir, upon this--sweet sir, your servant. _Smith._ Your humble servant, sir. _Johns._ But wilt thou do me a favour, now? _Bayes._ Ay, sir, what is't? _Johns._ Why, to tell him the meaning of thy last play. _Bayes._ How, sir, the meaning? Do you mean the plot? _Johns._ Ay, ay; anything. _Bayes._ Faith, sir, the intrigo's now quite out of my head; but I have a new one in my pocket that I may say is a virgin; it has never yet been blown upon. I must tell you one thing: 'tis all new wit, and, though I say it, a better than my last; and you know well enough how that took. In fine, it shall read, and write, and act, and plot, and show, ay, and pit, box, and gallery, egad, with any play in Europe.[1] This morning is its last rehearsal, in their habits, and all that, as it is to be acted; and if you and your friend will do it but the honour to see it in its virgin attire; though, perhaps, it may blush, I shall not be ashamed to discover its nakedness unto you. I think it is in this pocket. [_Puts his hand in his pocket._ _Johns._ Sir, I confess I am not able to answer you in this new way; but if you please to lead, I shall be glad to follow you, and I hope my friend will do so too. _Smith._ Sir, I have no business so considerable as should keep me from your company. _Bayes._ Yes, here it is. No, cry you mercy: this is my book of Drama Commonplaces, the mother of many other plays. _Johns._ Drama Commonplaces! pray what's that? _Bayes._ Why, sir, some certain helps that we men of art have found it convenient to make use of. _Smith._ How, sir, helps for wit?