Chương Chương 5 · MELLEFONT, CARELESS, LORD FROTH, BRISK.

MEL. But does your lordship never see comedies?

LORD FROTH. Oh yes, sometimes; but I never laugh.

MEL. No?

LORD FROTH. Oh no; never laugh indeed, sir.

CARE. No! why, what d'ye go there for?

LORD FROTH. To distinguish myself from the commonalty and mortify the

poets; the fellows grow so conceited, when any of their foolish wit

prevails upon the side-boxes. I swear,--he, he, he, I have often

constrained my inclinations to laugh,--he, he, he, to avoid giving them

encouragement.

MEL. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as well as malicious to them.

LORD FROTH. I confess I did myself some violence at first, but now I

think I have conquered it.

BRISK. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very particular in

the humour; 'tis true it makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some

friends of mine that write; but, i'gad, I love to be malicious. Nay,

deuce take me, there's wit in't, too. And wit must be foiled by wit; cut

a diamond with a diamond, no other way, i'gad.

LORD FROTH. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the

wit.

CARE. Wit! In what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing when a

man has a mind to't?

BRISK. O Lord, why can't you find it out? Why, there 'tis, in the not

laughing. Don't you apprehend me? My lord, Careless is a very honest

fellow, but harkee, you understand me, somewhat heavy, a little shallow,

or so. Why, I'll tell you now, suppose now you come up to me--nay,

prithee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was saying, you come up

to me holding your sides, and laughing as if you would--well--I look

grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate mirth. You laugh on still,

and are not able to tell me, still I look grave, not so much as smile.

CARE. Smile, no, what the devil should you smile at, when you suppose I

can't tell you!

BRISK. Pshaw, pshaw, prithee don't interrupt me. But I tell you, you

shall tell me at last, but it shall be a great while first.

CARE. Well, but prithee don't let it be a great while, because I long to

have it over.

BRISK. Well then, you tell me some good jest or some very witty thing,

laughing all the while as if you were ready to die, and I hear it, and

look thus. Would not you be disappointed?

CARE. No; for if it were a witty thing I should not expect you to

understand it.

LORD FROTH. Oh, foy, Mr. Careless, all the world allows Mr. Brisk to

have wit; my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her a

judge.

BRISK. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing; I can't tell how to

make him apprehend. Take it t'other way. Suppose I say a witty thing to

you?

CARE. Then I shall be disappointed indeed.

MEL. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obstinately bent not to be instructed.

BRISK. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me.

MEL. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord?

LORD FROTH. With all my heart; methinks we are a solitude without 'em.

MEL. Or what say you to another bottle of champagne?

LORD FROTH. Oh, for the universe not a drop more, I beseech you. Oh,

intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already. [_Takes out a pocket-

glass and looks in it_.]

BRISK. Let me see, let me see, my lord, I broke my glass that was in the

lid of my snuff-box. Hum! Deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple

here too. [_Takes the glass and looks_.]

LORD FROTH. Then you must mortify him with a patch; my wife shall supply

you. Come, gentlemen, _allons_, here is company coming.

SCENE 6.