MARIA. Oh He has done nothing—but his conversation is a perpetual Libel on all his Acquaintance.
SURFACE. Aye and the worst of it is there is no advantage in not knowing Them, for He'll abuse a stranger just as soon as his best Friend—and Crabtree is as bad.
LADY SNEERWELL. Nay but we should make allowance[—]Sir Benjamin is a wit and a poet.
MARIA. For my Part—I own madam—wit loses its respect with me, when I see it in company with malice.—What do you think, Mr. Surface?
SURFACE. Certainly, Madam, to smile at the jest which plants a Thorn on another's Breast is to become a principal in the mischief.
LADY SNEERWELL. Pshaw—there's no possibility of being witty without a little [ill] nature—the malice of a good thing is the Barb that makes it stick.—What's your opinion, Mr. Surface?
SURFACE. Certainly madam—that conversation where the Spirit of Raillery is suppressed will ever appear tedious and insipid—
MARIA. Well I'll not debate how far Scandal may be allowable—but in a man I am sure it is always contemtable.—We have Pride, envy, Rivalship, and a Thousand motives to depreciate each other—but the male-slanderer must have the cowardice of a woman before He can traduce one.
LADY SNEERWELL. I wish my Cousin Verjuice hadn't left us—she should embrace you.
SURFACE. Ah! she's an old maid and is privileged of course.