Wood. No faith, madam, I was thinking of the fair lady, who, at parting, bespoke so cunningly of me all my essences.
Trick. But there are other beauties in the house; and I should be impatient of a rival: for I am apt to be partial to myself, and think I deserve to be preferred before them.
Wood. Your beauty will allow of no competition; and I am sure my love could make none.
Trick. Yes, you have seen Mrs Brainsick; she's a beauty.
Wood. You mean, I suppose, the peaking creature, the married woman, with a sideling look, as if one cheek carried more bias than the other?
Trick. Yes, and with a high nose, as visible as a land-mark.
Wood. With one cheek blue, the other red; just like the covering of Lambeth Palace.
Trick. Nay, but her legs, if you could see them—
Wood. She was so foolish to wear short petticoats, and show them. They are pillars, gross enough to support a larger building; of the Tuscan order, by my troth.
Trick. And her little head, upon that long neck, shows like a traitor's skull upon a pole. Then, for her wit—