Spark. What, what?—[To HARCOURT.] Now, dear rogue, has not she wit?

Har. Not so much as I thought, and hoped she had.

[Speaks surlily.

Alith. Mr. Sparkish, do you bring people to rail at you?

Har. Madam—

Spark. How! no; but if he does rail at me, ’tis but in jest, I warrant: what we wits do for one another, and never take any notice of it.

Alith. He spoke so scurrilously of you, I had no patience to hear him; besides, he has been making love to me.

Har. True, damned tell-tale woman!

[Aside.

Spark. Pshaw! to show his parts—we wits rail and make love often, but to show our parts: as we have no affections, so we have no malice, we—

Alith. He said you were a wretch below an injury—

Spark. Pshaw!

Har. Damned, senseless, impudent, virtuous jade! Well, since she won’t let me have her, she’ll do as good, she’ll make me hate her.

[Aside.

Alith. A common bubble—

Spark. Pshaw!

Alith. A coward—

Spark. Pshaw, pshaw!

Alith. A senseless, drivelling idiot—

Spark. How! did he disparage my parts? Nay, then, my honour’s concerned, I can’t put up that, sir, by the world—brother, help me to kill him—[Aside] I may draw now, since we have the odds of him:—’tis a good occasion, too, before my mistress—

[Offers to draw:

Alith. Hold, hold!

Spark. What, what?

Alith. [aside]. I must not let ’em kill the gentleman neither, for his kindness to me: I am so far from hating him, that I wish my gallant had his person and understanding. Nay, if my honour—

Spark. I’ll be thy death.