Ran. Incredulous envy! thou art as envious as an impotent lecher at a wedding.
Vin. Thou art either mad, or as vain as a Frenchman newly returned home from a campaign, or obliging England.
Ran. Thou art as envious as a rival; but if thou art mine, there's that will make you desist; [gives him a letter] and if you are not my rival, entrusting you with such a secret will, I know, oblige you to keep it, and assist me against all other interests.
Vin. Do you think I take your secret as an obligation? don't I know, lovers, travellers, and poets, will give money to be heard? But what's the paper? a lampoon upon Christina, hatched last night betwixt squire Dapperwit and you, because her maid used you scurvily?
Ran. No, 'tis only a letter from her, to show my company was not so disgustful to her last night, but that she desires it again to-day.
Val. A letter from her! [Aside.
Vin. A letter from Christina! [Reads.]—Ha! ha! ha!
Ran. Nay, 'tis pleasant.
Vin. You mistake, I laugh at you, not the letter.