_Mrs. Mar._ Excuse me, Jonas, for that:--I never heard any speak well of him but Mr. Dapperwit and you. _Sir Sim._ That's because he has been a rival to all men, and a gallant to all ladies. Rivals and deserted mistresses never speak well of a man. _Mrs. Mar._ Has he been so general in his amours? his kindness is not to be valued then. _Sir Sim._ The more by you; because 'tis for you he deserts all the rest, faith and troth. _Mrs. Mar._ You plead better for him than he could for himself, I believe; for, indeed, they say he is no better than an idiot. _Sir Sim._ Then, believe me, madam--for nobody knows him better than I--he has as much wit, courage, and as good a mien to the full, as I have.--He an idiot! _Mrs. Mar._ The common gull; so perspicuous a fop, the women find him out:--for none of 'em will marry him. _Sir Sim._ You may see, now, how he and you are abused. For that he is not married, is a sign of his wit; and for being perspicuous, 'tis false; he is as mysterious as a new parliament-man, or a young statesman newly taken from a coffee-house or tennis-court. _Mrs. Mar._ But is it a sign of his wit because he is not married? _Sir Sim._ Yes, yes; your women of the town ravish your fops: there's not one about the town unmarried that has anything. _Mrs. Mar._ It may be then he has spent his estate. _Sir Sim._ [_Aside._] How unluckily guessed!--[_Aloud._] If he had, he has a head can retrieve it again. _Mrs. Mar._ Besides, they say he has the modish distemper. _Sir Sim._ He can cure it with the best French chirurgeon in town. _Mrs. Mar._ Has his practice on himself been so much? _Sir Sim._ Come, come.-- Fame, like deserted jilt, does still belie men; Who doubts her man, must be advised by Hymen; For he knows best of any how to try men. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III.--_The old Pall Mall._ _Enter_ RANGER _and_ DAPPERWIT. _Ran._ Now the Lucys have renounced us, hey for the Christinas! She cannot use me worse than your honourable mistress did you. _Dap._ A pox! some young heir or another has promised her marriage. There are so many fools in the world, 'tis impossible for a man of wit to keep his wench from being a lady, let me perish! _Ran._ But have you no other acquaintance that sticks to her vocation, in spite of temptations of honour or filthy lucre? I declare, I make honourable love merely out of necessity, as your rooks play on the square rather than not play at all. _Enter_ LEONORE _masked, with a letter in her hand._ _Dap._ Come, the devil will not lose a gamester: here's ready money for you, push freely. _Ran._ Thou art as well met as if by assignation. [_To_ LEONORE. _Leo._ And you are as well met as if you were the man I looked for. _Ran._ Kind rogue! _Leo._ Sweet sir! _Ran._ Come, I am thy prisoner, (without more words,) show but thy warrant. [_Goes to pull off her mask._ _Leo._ You mistake, sir; here is my pass. [_Gives him the letter._ _Ran._ A letter! and directed to me!