Coc. Your Servant, Reverend Master.
Ma. This is a treacherous Civility! I am well enough already. Tell me what 'tis you came for.
Coc. Your whole School beg a Play-day.
Ma. You do nothing else but play, even without Leave.
Coc. Your Wisdom knows that moderate Play quickens the Wit, as you have taught us out of Quintilian.
Ma. Very well, how well you can remember what's to your purpose? They that labour hard, had need of some Relaxation: But you that study idly, and play laboriously, had more need of a Curb, than a Snaffle.
Coc. If any Thing has been wanting in Times past, we'll labour to make it up by future Diligence.
Ma. O rare Makers up! who will be Sureties for the performing this Promise?
Coc. I'll venture my Head upon it.
Ma. Nay, rather venture your Tail. I know there is but little Dependance upon your Word; but however, I'll try this Time what Credit may be given to you; if you deceive me now, you shall never obtain any Thing from me again. Let 'em play; but let them keep together in the Field, don't let them go a tippling or worse Exercises, and see they come Home betimes, before Sun set.