Thou, seeing the lady's serious air on one of those repetitions,
appliedst thyself to her, desiring her notions of wit: a quality, thou
saidst, which every one prized, whether flowing from himself, or found in
another.

Then it was that she took all our attention. It was a quality much
talked of, she said, but, she believed, very little understood. At
least, if she might be so free as to give her judgment of it from what
had passed in the present conversation, she must say, that wit with men
was one thing; with women another.

This startled us all:--How the women looked!--How they pursed their
mouths; a broad smile the moment before upon each, from the verses they
had heard repeated, so well understood, as we saw, by their looks! While
I besought her to let us know, for our instruction, what wit with women:
for such I was sure it ought to be with men.

Cowley, she said, had defined it prettily by negatives. Thou desiredst
her to repeat his definition.

She did; and with so much graceful ease, and beauty, and propriety of
accent, as would have made bad poetry delightful.

A thousand diff'rent shapes it bears;
Comely in thousand shapes appears.
'Tis not a tale, 'tis not a jest,
Admir'd with laughter at a feast,
Nor florid talk, which must this title gain:
The proofs of wit for ever must remain.
Much less can that have any place