Har. See, here come Mr. Nibble and Mr. Trifle in warm debate; prithee let us leave them to themselves and go see how my Lady and Canker have agreed in their Judgments about this New Play.
Sir Pat. With all my Heart, Madam; for really I am tired with these two Gentlemen before they come near us, they are so very silly—(Pushing between Harriet and Heartly) I beg Pardon, Mr. Heartly, but I must do the Lady the Honour to give her the Acceptation of my Hand. I hope you will excuse my bashfullness, Madam, that I did not do it sooner.
Har. Sir Patrick, you are the most courteous well bred Knight that ever broke Spear in a Lady's Defence.
Sir Pat. Faith I am of your Opinion in that, Madam, for I think I am a clever loose Fellow.(Exeunt)
(Enter NIBBLE and TRIFLE)
Trif. Dear Nibble, don't let you and I quarrel which we certainly must if you persist in crying down so admired a Piece. For Dullness seize me if I don't defend it to the last Extremity of critical Obstinancy.
Nib. Dear Tim: don't call it critical, but fashionable Obstinancy, for you know very well that Judgment and you are old Antagonists.
Trif. Ha, ha, ha, give me your Hand for that, Nibble; faith that was not said amiss—But as I have some regard for you, don't persist in shewing your weakness lest you oblige me to draw my parts upon you, and if I do, expect no Quarter; by all that's witty, I'll pink the Midriff of your Ignorance as a friendly cure to your sickly Understanding.
Nib. Tim Trifle, I defy your Parts; they are as blunt and as dull as a Welch Pedant's. I do and shall persist in, asserting to the last Extremity of my critical Judgment that the Piece has glaring Faults—monstrous.
Trif. What Faults? What Faults? Prithee name one!