_Dap._ I should be no wit--'tis the badge of my calling; for you can no more find a man of wit without vanity than a fine woman without affectation: but let us go before the knight comes again. _Mrs. Mar._ Let us go before my father comes; he soon will have the intelligence. _Dap._ Stay, let me think a little. [_Pauses._ _Mrs. Mar._ What are you thinking of? you should have thought before this time, or I should have thought rather. _Dap._ Peace! peace! _Mrs. Mar._ What are you thinking of? _Dap._ I am thinking what a wit without vanity is like. He is like-- _Mrs. Mar._ You do not think we are in a public place, and may be surprised and prevented by my father's scouts! _Dap._ What! would you have me lose my thought? _Mrs. Mar._ You would rather lose your mistress, it seems. _Dap._ He is like--I think I am a sot to-night, let me perish. _Mrs. Mar._ Nay, if you are so in love with your thought--[_Offers to go._ _Dap._ Are you so impatient to be my wife?--He is like--he is like--a picture without shadows, or--or--a face without patches--or a diamond without a foil. These are new thoughts now, these are new! _Mrs. Mar._ You are wedded already to your thoughts, I see;--good night. _Dap._ Madam, do not take it ill:-- For loss of happy thought there's no amends; For his new jest true wit will lose old friends. That's new again,--the thought's new. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_Another part of the same._ _Enter_ GRIPE, _leading_ LUCY; Mrs. JOYNER _and_ Mrs. CROSSBITE _following._ _Gripe._ Mrs. Joyner, I can conform to this mode of public walking by moonlight, because one is not known. _Lucy._ Why, are you ashamed of your company? _Gripe._ No, pretty one; because in the dark, or as it were in the dark, there is no envy nor scandal. I would neither lose you nor my reputation. _Mrs. Joyn._ Your reputation! indeed, your worship, 'tis well known there are as grave men as your worship; nay, men in office too, that adjourn their cares and businesses, to come and unbend themselves at night here, with a little vizard-mask. _Gripe._ I do believe it, Mrs. Joyner. _Lucy._ Ay, godmother, and carries and treats her at Mulberry-garden. _Mrs. Cros._ Nay, does not only treat her, but gives her his whole gleaning of that day. _Gripe._ They may, they may, Mrs. Crossbite; they take above six in the hundred. _Mrs. Cros._ Nay, there are those of so much worth and honour and love, that they'll take it from their wives and children to give it to their misses; now your worship has no wife, and but one child. _Gripe._ Still for my edification! [_Aside._ _Mrs. Joyn._ That's true, indeed; for I know a great lady that cannot follow her husband abroad to his haunts, because her Ferrandine is so ragged and greasy, whilst his mistress is as fine as fi'pence, in embroidered satins. _Gripe._ Politicly done of him indeed! If the truth were known, he is a statesman by that, umph--