Tho. Alas, I never had it in my life.
Un. What's that, Captaine?
Cap. Wit, I talke of wit.
Un, Who has any wit? does my man offer to have wit?
Cap. Nay, take no offence at it, for I meant none to either of you by this sack. Drawer, give me my oath, cannot you drinke without wit? cannot you game without wit?
Un. And yet by your favour the gamesters are cald the wits now.
Cap. Tis no wit to cozen; confederacy and dishonesty will doo't without wit. Ile iustifie it: do not you know the receit of Cozenage? take an ounce of knavery at the least,—and confederacie is but so many knaves put together,—then you must take a very fine young Codling heire and pound him as small as you can.
Un. And what then, Captaine?
Cap. Why, then you must cozen him.
Un. But which way?