e wind blow there?

HEART. It will as soon blow north and by south--marry, quotha! I hope
in heaven I have a greater portion of grace, and I think I have baited
too many of those traps to be caught in one myself.

BELL. Who the devil would have thee? unless 'twere an oysterwoman to
propagate young fry for Billingsgate--thy talent will never recommend
thee to anything of better quality.

HEART. My talent is chiefly that of speaking truth, which I don't expect
should ever recommend me to people of quality. I thank heaven I have
very honestly purchased the hatred of all the great families in town.

SHARP. And you in return of spleen hate them. But could you hope to be
received into the alliance of a noble family--

HEART. No; I hope I shall never merit that affliction, to be punished
with a wife of birth, be a stag of the first head and bear my horns
aloft, like one of the supporters of my wife's coat. S'death I would not
be a Cuckold to e'er an illustrious whore in England.

BELL. What, not to make your family, man and provide for your children?

SHARP. For her children, you mean.

HEART. Ay, there you've nicked it. There's the devil upon devil. Oh,
the pride and joy of heart 'twould be to me to have my son and heir
resemble such a duke; to have a fleering coxcomb scoff and cry, 'Mr. your
son's mighty like his Grace, has just his smile and air of's face.' Then
replies another, 'Methinks he has more of the Marquess of such a place
about his nose and eyes, though he has my Lord what-d'ye-call's mouth to
a tittle.' Then I, to put it off as unconcerned, come chuck the infant
under the chin, force a smile, and cry, 'Ay, the boy takes after his
mother's relations,' when the devil and she knows 'tis a little compound
of the whole body of nobility.

BELL+SHARP. Ha, ha, ha!

BELL. Well, but, George, I have one question to ask you--

HEART. Pshaw, I have prattled away my time. I hope you are in no haste
for an answer, for I shan't stay now. [_Looking on his watch_.]

BELL. Nay, prithee, George--

HEART. No; besides my business, I see a fool coming this way. Adieu.

SCENE V.

SHARPER, BELLMOUR.

BELL. What does he mean? Oh, 'tis Sir Joseph Wittoll with his friend;
but I see he has turned the corner and goes another way.

SHARP. What in the name of wonder is it?

BELL. Why, a fool.

SHARP. 'Tis a tawdry outside.

BELL. And a very beggarly lining--yet he may be worth your acq