_Vin._ And now a man may carry a bottle under his arm instead of his hat;--and no observing spruce fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face. _Dap._ And now the brisk repartee ruins the complaisant cringe, or wise grimace.--Something 'twas, we men of virtue always loved the night. _Ran._ O blessed season! _Vin._ For good-fellows. _Ran._ For lovers. _Dap._ And for the Muses. _Ran._ When I was a boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a bellman's apprentice. _Vin._ I, a drawer. _Dap._ And I, to attend the waits of Westminster, let me perish! _Ran._ But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places;--walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet? _Dap._ 'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish! _Vin._ Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop. _Dap._ No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say. _Ran._ Who comes here, Dapperwit? [_People walk slowly over the stage._ _Dap._ By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my Lord Easy. _Ran._ And who the woman? _Dap._ My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by-- _Vin._ Dapperwit, hold your tongue. _Ran._ How! are you concerned? _Vin._ Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass. _Ran._ Prithee, Vincent, Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to-night, though he spake against it; why, then, should you interrupt his sport?--Now, let him talk of anybody. _Vin._ So he will,--till you cut his throat. _Ran._ Why should you on all occasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look grave at his jests only? _Vin._ Why does he always rail against my friends, then, and my best friend--a beer-glass? _Ran._ Dapperwit, be your own advocate: my game, I think, is before me there. [_Exit._ _Dap._ This Ranger, I think, has all the ill qualities of all your town fops;--leaving his company for a spruce lord or a wench. _Vin._ Nay, if you must rail at your own best friends, I may forgive you railing at mine. _Enter_ LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT.--_They walk over the stage._ _Lyd._ False Ranger, shall I find thee here? [_Aside._ _Vin._ Those are women, are they not? [_To_ DAPPER. _Dap._ The least seems to be my Lucy, sure. [_Aside._ _Vin._ Faith, I think I dare speak to a woman in the dark!--let's try. _Dap._ They are persons of quality of my acquaintance;--hold! _Vin._ Nay, if they are persons of quality of your acquaintance, I may be the bolder with 'em. [_The_ Ladies _go off, they follow them._ _Re-enter_ LYDIA _and_ Lady FLIPPANT. _Lyd._ I come hither to make a discovery to-night. _L. Flip._ Of my love to you, certainly; for nobody but you could have debauched me to the Park, certainly. I would not return another night, if it were to redeem my dear husband from his grave. _Lyd._ I believe you:--but to get another, widow.