Man. Yes, always talking, especially too if it be loud and fast, is the sign of a fool.
Nov. Pshaw! talking is like fencing, the quicker the better; run 'em down, run 'em down, no matter for parrying; push on still, sa, sa, sa! No matter whether you argue in form, push in guard or no.
Man. Or hit or no; I think thou always talkest without thinking, Novel.
Nov. Ay, ay; studied play's the worse, to follow the allegory, as the old pedant says.
Old. A young fop!
Man. I ever thought the man of most wit had been like him of most money, who has no vanity in showing it everywhere, whilst the beggarly pusher of his fortune has all he has about him still only to show.
Nov. Well, sir, and make a pretty show in the world, let me tell you; nay, a better than your close hunks. A pox, give me ready money in play! what care I for a man's reputation? what are we the better for your substantial thrifty curmudgeon in wit, sir?
Old. Thou art a profuse young rogue indeed.
Nov. So much for talking, which, I think, I have proved a mark of wit; and so is railing, roaring, and making a noise; for railing is satire, you know; and roaring and making a noise, humour.