Cokes. Well, Numps, I am now for another piece of business more, the Fair, Numps, and then—
Waspe. Bless me! deliver me! help, hold me! the Fair!
Cokes. Nay, never fidge up and down, Numps, and vex itself. I am resolute Bartholomew in this; I’ll make no suit on’t to you; ’twas all the end of my journey indeed, to shew mistress Grace my Fair. I call it my Fair, because of Bartholomew: you know my name is Bartholomew, and Bartholomew Fair.
Lit. That was mine afore, gentlemen; this morning. I had that, i’faith, upon his license, believe me, there he comes after me.
Quar. Come, John, this ambitious wit of yours, I am afraid, will do you no good in the end.
Lit. No! why, sir?
Quar. You grow so insolent with it, and over-doing, John, that if you look not to it, and tie it up, it will bring you to some obscure place in time, and there ’twill leave you.
Winw. Do not trust it too much, John, be more sparing, and use it but now and then; a wit is a dangerous thing in this age; do not over-buy it.
Lit. Think you so, gentlemen? I’ll take heed on’t hereafter.