_L. Plau._ Little gentleman, your most obedient, faithful, humble servant. Where, I beseech you, is that divine person, your noble lady? _Boy._ Gone out, my lord; but commanded me to give you this letter. [_Gives him a letter._ _Enter_ NOVEL. _L. Plau._ Which he must not observe. [_Aside. Puts letter up._ _Nov._ Hey, boy, where is thy lady? _Boy._ Gone out, sir; but I must beg a word with you. [_Gives him a letter, and exit._ _Nov._ For me? So.--[_Puts up the letter._] Servant, servant, my lord; you see the lady knew of your coming, for she is gone out. _L. Plau._ Sir, I humbly beseech you not to censure the lady's good breeding: she has reason to use more liberty with me than with any other man. _Nov._ How, viscount, how? _L. Plau._ Nay, I humbly beseech you, be not in choler; where there is most love, there may be most freedom. _Nov._ Nay, then 'tis time to come to an eclaircissement with you, and to tell you, you must think no more of this lady's love. _L. Plau._ Why, under correction, dear sir? _Nov._ There are reasons, reasons, viscount. _L. Plau._ What, I beseech you, noble sir? _Nov._ Prithee, prithee, be not impertinent, my lord; some of you lords are such conceited, well-assured, impertinent rogues. _L. Plau._ And you noble wits are so full of shamming and drolling, one knows not where to have you seriously. _Nov._ Well, you shall find me in bed with this lady one of these days. _L. Plau._ Nay, I beseech you, spare the lady's honour; for hers and mine will be all one shortly. _Nov._ Prithee, my lord, be not an ass. Dost thou think to get her from me? I have had such encouragements-- _L. Plau._ I have not been thought unworthy of 'em. _Nov._ What, not like mine! Come to an eclaircissement, as I said. _L. Plau._ Why, seriously then, she has told me viscountess sounded prettily. _Nov._ And me, that Novel was a name she would sooner change hers for than for any title in England. _L. Plau._ She has commended the softness and respectfulness of my behaviour. _Nov._ She has praised the briskness of my raillery, of all things, man. _L. Plau._ The sleepiness of my eyes she liked. _Nov._ Sleepiness! dulness, dulness. But the fierceness of mine she adored. _L. Plau._ The brightness of my hair she liked. _Nov._ The brightness! no, the greasiness, I warrant. But the blackness and lustre of mine she admires. _L. Plau._ The gentleness of my smile. _Nov._ The subtilty of my leer. _L. Plau._ The clearness of my complexion. _Nov._ The redness of my lips. _L. Plau._ The whiteness of my teeth. _Nov._ My jaunty way of picking them. _L. Plau._ The sweetness of my breath. _Nov._ Ha! ha! nay, then she abused you, 'tis plain; for you know what Manly said:--the sweetness of your pulvillio she might mean; but for your breath! ha! ha! ha! Your breath is such, man, that nothing but tobacco can perfume; and your complexion nothing could mend but the small-pox.