_Nov._ Why, thou, old fool, hast no other pretence to the name of a wit, but by railing at new plays! _Old._ Thou, by railing at that facetious noble way of wit, quibbling! _Nov._ Thou callest thy dulness gravity; and thy dozing, thinking. _Old._ You, sir, your dulness, spleen; and you talk much and say nothing. _Nov._ Thou readest much, and understandest nothing, sir. _Old._ You laugh loud, and break no jest. _Nov._ You rail, and nobody hangs himself; and thou hast nothing of the satire but in thy face. _Old._ And you have no jest, but your face, sir. _Nov._ Thou art an illiterate pedant. _Old._ Thou art a fool with a bad memory. _Man._ Come, a pox on you both! you have done like wits now: for you wits, when you quarrel, never give over till ye prove one another fools. _Nov._ And you fools have never any occasion of laughing at us wits but when we quarrel. Therefore let us be friends, Oldfox. _Man._ They are such wits as thou art, who make the name of a wit as scandalous as that of bully: and signify a loud-laughing, talking, incorrigible, coxcomb, as bully a roaring hardened coward. _Free._ And would have his noise and laughter pass for wit, as t'other his huffing and blustering for courage. _Re-enter_ VERNISH. _Man._ Gentlemen, with your leave, here is one I would speak with; and I have nothing to say to you. [_Puts all out of the room except_ VERNISH. _Ver._ I told you 'twas in vain to think of getting money out of her. She says, if a shilling would do't, she would not save you from starving or hanging, or what you would think worse, begging or flattering; and rails so at you, one would not think you had lain with her. _Man._ O, friend, never trust for that matter a woman's railing; for she is no less a dissembler in her hatred than her love; and as her fondness of her husband is a sign he's a cuckold, her railing at another man is a sign she lies with him. _Ver._ He's in the right on't: I know not what to trust to. [_Aside._ _Man._ But you did not take any notice of it to her, I hope? _Ver._ So!--Sure he is afraid I should have disproved him by an inquiry of her: all may be well yet. [_Aside._ _Man._ What hast thou in thy head that makes thee seem so unquiet? _Ver._ Only this base impudent woman's falseness; I cannot put her out of my head. _Man._ O, my dear friend, be not you too sensible of my wrongs; for then I shall feel 'em too with more pain, and think 'em unsufferable. Damn her, her money, and that ill-natured whore too, Fortune herself! But if thou wouldst ease a little my present trouble, prithee go borrow me somewhere else some money. I can trouble thee.