1st.——Here's mine.
2d.——And mine, and I'm glad on't.
Mar. Out of my Sight, begone I say! [Pushes 'em off. Lord! Lord! I shan't recover my Humour again, this half Hour!
Mr. Pow. Why do you vex your self, so much, Madam?
Mr. Aw'dw. Poetry ought to be for the use of the Mind, and for the Diversion of the Writer, as well as the Spectator; but to you, sure Madam, it proves only a Fatigue and Toyl.
Mar. Pray, Mr. Aw'dwell, don't come here to make your Remarks; what, I shan't have the Priviledge to be in a Passion for you! Shall I; how dare you contradict me?
Mr. Prais. But you shall be in a Passion, if you have a mind to it, by the Clubb of Hercules. Ah! Madam, if we had but Hercules, Hercules and his Clubb wou'd ha' done rarely: Dear Madam! Let 'em have Clubbs next time, do Madam, let 'em ha' Clubbs; let it be my Thought.
Mar. What, for you to brag on't all the Town over! No, they shan't have Clubbs, tho' I like Clubbs better my self too.
Mr. Prais. I ha' done, I ha' done.
Mar. O Heav'ns! Now I have lost Mr. Powell, with your Nonsensical Clubbs, wou'd there was a lusty one about your empty Pate.