as you call it; that is, to make every one look at thee, and consider
what a Fool thou art, who else might pass unregarded amongst the common
Croud.

Sir _Tim_. The Devil's in her Tongue, and so 'tis in most Women's of her
Age; for when it has quitted the Tail, it repairs to her upper Tire.

_Nur_. Do not persuade me, Madam, I am resolv'd to make him weary of his
Wooing.

Sir _Tim_. So, God be prais'd, the Storm is laid--And now, Mrs. _Celinda_,
give me leave to ask you, if it be with your leave, this Affront is put
on a Man of my Quality?

_Nur_. Thy Quality--

Sir _Tim_. Yes; I am a Gentleman, and a Knight.

_Nur_. Yes, Sir, Knight of the ill-favour'd Countenance is it?

Sir _Tim_. You are beholding to _Don Quixot_ for that, and 'tis so many
Ages since thou couldst see to read, I wonder thou hast not forgot all
that ever belong'd to Books.

_Nur_. My Eye-sight is good enough to see thee in all thy Colours, thou
Knight of the burning Pestle thou.

Sir _Tim_. Agen, that was out of a Play--Hark ye, Witch of _Endor_, hold
your prating Tongue, or I shall most well-favour'dly cudgel ye.