_Brain._ I dwell not on your commendations. What say you, sir? [_To_
WOOD.] Is it not admirable? Do you enter into it?

_Wood._ Most delicate cadence!

_Brain._ Gad, I think so, without vanity. Battist and I have but one
soul. But the close, the close! [_Sings it thrice over._] I have words
too upon the air; but I am naturally so bashful!

_Wood._ Will you oblige me, sir?

_Brain._ You might command me, sir; for I sing too _en cavalier:_
but--

_Limb._ But you would be entreated, and say, _Nolo, nolo, nolo,_ three
times, like any bishop, when your mouth waters at the diocese.

_Brain._ I have no voice; but since this gentleman commands me, let
the words commend themselves. [_Sings._
_My Phillis is charming--_

_Limb._ But why, of all names, would you chuse a Phillis? There have
been so many Phillises in songs, I thought there had not been another
left, for love or money.

_Brain._ If a man should listen to a fop! [_Sings._
_My Phillis--_

_Aldo._ Before George, I am on t'other side: I think, as good no song,