Pat.
Believe me, thou lovest him with a pretty indifferent love.
Lov.
Her Love was certainly articled and agreed on by the old man her father. But let us find somewhat else to entertain the time withal. And now I think of it, what was that Gentlewoman who was there last night in the Sky coloured Satten Gown?
Pat.
O she is one of the great wits of the Town.
Love.
I thought so, yet Mr. Welbred put her shrewdly to it.
Pat.
Her mind runs on nothing but Welbred, I think.
Cris.
They say that thou too (Affection) goest for a kind of Coun∣try wit, what e're thou ailest to be thus sober here.
Love.
Sitting up so late last night hath somewhat disordered me, I confesse.
Cris.
But as thou hopest to be married under thirty, think not of it.
Lov.
Why, I pray? for that is somewhat a terrible Conjuration.
Cris.
Why? A female wit is a strange prodigious kind of thing, it frights off all that have no wit, and they that have will never come on, except it be for an Afternoon or so, to exercise their tongues. I have been out of conceit with it ever since I heard a Gentleman say, that he was going to a Lady that I know, a reputed wit, to prepare him for a Visit to his Mistris. Fye upon it, a thing fit for nothing, but to make one a common courting stock. I hate the very thought of it.
Love.
Well then, if we must not think on them that have wit, let us think on them that have none: and first, how did you like the Gentleman that was there last night with the black curled hair:
Pat.
With the black curled hair?
Cris.
O, I know whom she means, it was a friend of that same Gen∣tlewomans, she was here with him this morning to invite me to such another businesse to night. But why, I pray, dost thou take him to have no wit? Doth he pay all the Reckonings where e're he comes? Will he drink deep with a Lad that will keep a brace of Geldings and a Lac∣quey out of twenty pound a year? A dammee Captain, or an Oxford Majo••, and then game with them?
Love.
No, I dare pass my word for him.
Cris.
Why, these are the only modern fools.
Lov.
Well, I cannot tell what you call a fool, (I must confesse) I am a little too young to be his Godmother, but yet me thinks, a dull and stupid thing (as I conceive him to be) should have a name.
Pate.
I am sure if he had had any thing in him, there was a Lady gave him a fair opportunity to shew it.
Lov.
Mr. Welbred would have paid her home.
Pat.
I was a great while in doubt whether he could speak or no.
Cris.
Well, I cannot tell,—for ought I know, he might serve with a good Jointure to boot; for my part, I saw him do nothing much ab∣surd. And had you been here to day, you would have thought his si∣lence last night, to have been more out of choice then any thing else.