Dap. 'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish!
Vin. Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop.
Dap. No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say.
Ran. Who comes here, Dapperwit? [People walk slowly over the stage.
Dap. By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my Lord Easy.
Ran. And who the woman?
Dap. My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by—
Vin. Dapperwit, hold your tongue.
Ran. How! are you concerned?
Vin. Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass.