them.

LORD FROTH. I confess I did myself some violence at first, but now
I think I have conquered it.

BRISK. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very
particular in the humour; 'tis true it makes against wit, and I'm
sorry for some friends of mine that write; but, i'gad, I love to be
malicious. Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't, too. And wit must
be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond, no other way, i'gad.

LORD FROTH. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found
out the wit.

CARE. Wit! In what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing
when a man has a mind to't?

BRISK. O Lord, why can't you find it out? Why, there 'tis, in the
not laughing. Don't you apprehend me? My lord, Careless is a very
honest fellow, but harkee, you understand me, somewhat heavy, a
little shallow, or so. Why, I'll tell you now, suppose now you come
up to me--nay, prithee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was
saying, you come up to me holding your sides, and laughing as if you
would--well--I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate
mirth. You laugh on still, and are not able to tell me, still I
look grave, not so much as smile.

CARE. Smile, no, what the devil should you smile at, when you
suppose I can't tell you!