VANE. So I have played at love—witched from my will.
MAB. My love was always Ernest, and is still.
CIB. Pshaw! stap my vitals! “Manners make the man,”
They have made me!
SNARL. ’Tis about all they can!
SOAP. Yes; Mr. Cibber’s epitaph shall be,
He played Lord Foppington at seventy-three.
CLIVE. I’m for plain speaking—let the truth be shown—
SNARL. Truth’s in a well—best leave that well alone—
QUIN. Its bitter waters why should you uncork?