Waspe. A turd in your teeth, never pre dee me, for I will have nothing mistaken.
Knock. Turd! ha, turd? a noisome vapour: strike, Whit. [Aside to Whit.
[They fall together by the ears, while Edgworth steals the license out of the box, and exit.
Mrs. Over. Why, gentlemen, why, gentlemen, I charge you upon my authority, conserve the peace. In the king’s name, and my husband’s, put up your weapons, I shall be driven to commit you myself, else.
Quar. Ha, ha, ha!
Waspe. Why do you laugh, sir?
Quar. Sir, you’ll allow me my christian liberty; I may laugh, I hope.
Cut. In some sort you may, and in some sort you may not, sir.
Knock. Nay, in some sort, sir, he may neither laugh nor hope in this company.
Waspe. Yes, then he may both laugh and hope in any sort, an’t please him.