Ran. No, I am to be preferred to-day, you are to set me off. You are in possession, I will not lend you arms to keep me out.
Dap. A pox! don't let me be ungrateful; if she has smugged herself up for me, let me prune and flounce my peruke a little for her. There's ne'er a young fellow in the town but will do as much for a mere stranger in the playhouse.
Ran. A wit's wig has the privilege of being uncombed in the very playhouse, or in the presence.
Dap. But not in the presence of his mistress; 'tis a greater neglect of her than himself. Pray lend me your comb.
Ran. I would not have men of wit and courage make use of every fop's mean arts to keep or gain a mistress.
Dap. But don't you see every day, though a man have never so much wit and courage, his mistress will revolt to those fops that wear and comb perukes well. I'll break off the bargain, and will not receive you my partner.
Ran. Therefore you see I am setting up for myself. [Combs his peruke.
Dap. She comes, she comes!—pray, your comb. [Snatches Ranger's comb.
Enter Mrs. Crossbite.