Mrs. Joyn. If you could, all your wise actions would be your own, and your money would be your own too.
Sir Sim. Nay, faith and troth, that's true; for your wits are plaguily given to borrow. They'll borrow of their wench, coachman, or linkboy, their hire, Mrs. Joyner; Dapperwit has that trick with a vengeance.
Mrs. Joyn. Why will you keep company with him then, I say? for, to be plain with you, you have followed him so long, that you are thought but his cully;[27] for every wit has his cully, as every squire his led captain.
Sir Sim. I his cully, I his cully, Mrs. Joyner! Lord, that I should be thought a cully to any wit breathing!
Mrs. Joyn. Nay, do not take it so to heart, for the best wits of the town are but cullies themselves.
Sir Sim. To whom, to whom, to whom, Mrs. Joyner?
Mrs. Joyn. To sempstresses and bawds.
Sir Sim. To your knowledge, Mrs. Joyner.—[Aside.] There I was with her.
Mrs. Joyn. To tailors and vintners, but especially to the French houses.
Sir Sim. But Dapperwit is a cully to none of them; for he ticks.