Lap. Bid him put all the Thumps in Pica Roman.
And with great T's, (you vermin) as Thumps should be.
Clow. Then in what Letter will you have your Kicks?
Lap. All in Italica, your backward blows
All in Italica, you Hermaphrodite:
When shall I teach you wit?
Clow. Oh let it alone,
Till you have some your self, Sir.
Lap. You mumble?
Clow. The victuals are lockt up;
I'm kept from mumbling. [Exit.
Lap. He prints my blows upon Pot Paper too, the rogue,
Which had been proper for some drunken Pamphlet.
1 Gent. Monsieur Lapet? how the world rings of you, Sir!
Your name sounds far and near.
Lap. A good report it bears, for an enduring name—
1 Gent. What luck have you Sir?