Over. Nay, the hole in the nose here of some tobacco-takers, or the third nostril, if I may so call it, which makes that they can vent the tobacco out, like the ace of clubs, or rather the flower-de-lis, is caused from the tobacco, the mere tobacco! when the poor innocent pox, having nothing to do there, is miserably and most unconscionably slandered.
Cokes. Who would have missed this, sister?
Mrs. Over. Not any body but Numps.
Cokes. He does not understand.
Edg. [picks Cokes’s pocket of his purse.] Nor you feel. [Aside.
Cokes. What would you have, sister, of a fellow that knows nothing but a basket-hilt, and an old fox in’t? the best musick in the Fair will not move a log.
Edg. [gives the purse aside to Nightingale.] In, to Ursula, Nightingale, and carry her comfort: see it told. This fellow was sent to us by Fortune, for our first fairing.
[Exit Nightingale.
Over. But what speak I of the diseases of the body, children of the Fair?
Cokes. That’s to us, sister. Brave, i’faith!