MRS FRAIL. Come, let's hear 'em.
SCAN. Why, I have a beau in a bagnio, cupping for a complexion, and
sweating for a shape.
MRS FRAIL. So.
SCAN. Then I have a lady burning brandy in a cellar with a hackney
coachman.
MRS FRAIL. O devil! Well, but that story is not true.
SCAN. I have some hieroglyphics too; I have a lawyer with a hundred
hands, two heads, and but one face; a divine with two faces, and one
head; and I have a soldier with his brains in his belly, and his
heart where his head should be.
MRS FRAIL. And no head?
SCAN. No head.
MRS FRAIL. Pooh, this is all invention. Have you never a poet?
SCAN. Yes, I have a poet weighing words, and selling praise for
praise, and a critic picking his pocket. I have another large piece
too, representing a school, where there are huge proportioned
critics, with long wigs, laced coats, Steinkirk cravats, and
terrible faces; with cat-calls in their hands, and horn-books about
their necks. I have many more of this kind, very well painted, as
you shall see.
MRS FRAIL. Well, I'll come, if it be but to disprove you.
SCENE XIV.
[To them] JEREMY.
JERE. Sir, here's the steward again from your father.
VAL. I'll come to him--will you give me leave? I'll wait on you
again presently,
MRS FRAIL. No; I'll be gone. Come, who squires me to the Exchange?
I must call my sister Foresight there.
SCAN. I will: I have a mind to your sister.
MRS FRAIL.
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