_Nov._ A fool, tar,--a fool! nay, thou art a brave sea-judge of wit! a fool! Prithee when did you ever find me want something to say, as you do often? _Man._ Nay, I confess thou art always talking, roaring, or making a noise; that I'll say for thee. _Nov._ Well, and is talking a sign of a fool? _Man._ Yes, always talking, especially too if it be loud and fast, is the sign of a fool. _Nov._ Pshaw! talking is like fencing, the quicker the better; run 'em down, run 'em down, no matter for parrying; push on still, sa, sa, sa! No matter whether you argue in form, push in guard or no. _Man._ Or hit or no; I think thou always talkest without thinking, Novel. _Nov._ Ay, ay; studied play's the worse, to follow the allegory, as the old pedant says. _Old._ A young fop! _Man._ I ever thought the man of most wit had been like him of most money, who has no vanity in showing it everywhere, whilst the beggarly pusher of his fortune has all he has about him still only to show. _Nov._ Well, sir, and make a pretty show in the world, let me tell you; nay, a better than your close hunks. A pox, give me ready money in play! what care I for a man's reputation? what are we the better for your substantial thrifty curmudgeon in wit, sir? _Old._ Thou art a profuse young rogue indeed. _Nov._ So much for talking, which, I think, I have proved a mark of wit; and so is railing, roaring, and making a noise; for railing is satire, you know; and roaring and making a noise, humour. _Re-enter_ FIDELIA; _she takes_ MANLY _aside, and shows him a paper._ _Fid._ The hour is betwixt seven and eight exactly: 'tis now half an hour to six. _Man._ Well, go then to the Piazza, and wait for me: as soon as it is quite dark, I'll be with you. I must stay here yet a while for my friend.--[_Exit_ FIDELIA.] But is railing satire, Novel? _Free._ And roaring and making a noise, humour? _Nov._ What, won't you confess there's humour in roaring and making a noise? _Free._ No. _Nov._ Nor in cutting napkins and hangings? _Man._ No, sure. _Nov._ Dull fops! _Old._ O rogue, rogue, insipid rogue!--Nay, gentlemen, allow him those things for wit; for his parts lie only that way. _Nov._ Peace, old fool! I wonder not at thee; but that young fellows should be so dull, as to say there's no humour in making a noise, and breaking windows! I tell you there's wit and humour too in both; and a wit is as well known by his frolic as by his smile. _Old._ Pure rogue! there's your modern wit for you! Wit and humour in breaking of windows: there's mischief, if you will, but no wit or humour. _Nov._ Prithee, prithee, peace, old fool! I tell you, where there's mischief, there's wit. Don't we esteem the monkey a wit amongst beasts, only because he's mischievous? and, let me tell you, as good-nature is a sign of a fool, being mischievous is a sign of a wit. _Old._ O rogue, rogue! pretend to be a wit, by doing mischief and railing!