LADY FROTH. Oh, I writ, writ abundantly. Do you never write?

CYNT. Write what?

LADY FROTH. Songs, elegies, satires, encomiums, panegyrics,
lampoons, plays, or heroic poems?

CYNT. O Lord, not I, madam; I'm content to be a courteous reader.

LADY FROTH. Oh, inconsistent! In love and not write! If my lord
and I had been both of your temper, we had never come together. Oh,
bless me! What a sad thing would that have been, if my lord and I
should never have met!

CYNT. Then neither my lord nor you would ever have met with your
match, on my conscience.

LADY FROTH. O' my conscience, no more we should; thou say'st right.
For sure my Lord Froth is as fine a gentleman and as much a man of
quality! Ah! nothing at all of the common air. I think I may say
he wants nothing but a blue ribbon and a star to make him shine, the
very phosphorus of our hemisphere. Do you understand those two hard
words? If you don't, I'll explain 'em to you.

CYNT. Yes, yes, madam, I'm not so ignorant.--At least I won't own
it, to be troubled with your instructions. [Aside.]

LADY FROTH. Nay, I beg your pardon; but being derived from the
Greek, I thought you might have escaped the etymology. But I'm the
more amazed to find you a woman of letters and not write! Bless me!