Lab. An’t be so, you’ll fit them to a hair.
Fal. Thou art a Coxcomb, to think a man of my
Quality needs the advantage of Handsomness:
A trifle as insignificant as Wit or Valour; poor
Nothings, which Men of Fortune ought to despise.
Lab. Why do you then keep such a stir, to gain The reputation of this thing you so despise?
Fal. To please the peevish humour of a Woman, Who in that point only is a Fool.
Lab. You had a Mistress once, if you have not Forgotten her, who would have taken you with All these faults.
Fal. There was so; but she was poor, that’s the Devil, I could have lov’d her else. —But go thy ways; what dost thou muse on?
Lab. Faith, Sir, I am only fearful you will never Pass with those Patches you speak of.
Fal. Thou never-to-be-reclaim’d Ass, shall I never
Bring thee to apprehend as thou ought’st? I tell thee,
I will pass and repass, where and how I please;
Know’st thou not the difference yet, between a Man
Of Money and Titles, and a Man of only Parts,
As they call them? poor Devils of no Mein nor Garb:
Well, ‘tis a fine and frugal thing, this Honour,
It covers a multitude of Faults:
Even Ridicule in one of us is a-la-mode.
But I detain thee; go haste to Aminta.
[Exeunt severally.