Rhod. Faith, thou followest a figure in thy jests, as country gentlemen follow fashions, when they be worn threadbare.
D’Ol. Well, well, let’s leave these wit skirmishes, and say when shall we meet?
Mug. How think you, are we not met now?
D’Ol. Tush, man! I mean at my chamber, where we may take free use of ourselves; that is, drink sack, and talk satire, and let our wits run the wild-goose chase over court and country. I will have my chamber the rendezvous of all good wits, the shop of good words, the mint of good jests, an ordinary of fine discourse; critics, essayists, linguists, poets, and other professors of that faculty of wit, shall, at certain hours i’ th’ day, resort thither; it shall be a second Sorbonne, where all doubts or differences of learning, honour, duellism, criticism, and poetry, shall be disputed: and how, wits, do ye follow the court still?
Rhod. Close at heels, sir; and I can tell you, you have much to answer to your stars, that you do not so too.
D’Ol. As why, wits? as why?
Rhod. Why, sir, the court’s as ’twere the stage: and they that have a good suit of parts and qualities, ought to press thither to grace them, and receive their due merit.
D’Ol. Tush, let the court follow me: he that soars too near the sun, melts his wings many times; as I am, I possess myself, I enjoy my liberty, my learning, my wit: as for wealth and honour, let ’em go; I’ll not lose my learning to be a lord, nor my wit to be an alderman.
Mug. Admirable D’Olive!
D’Ol. And what! you stand gazing at this comet here, and admire it, I dare say.