year. [Gives him the letter.]


SCENE IX.


[To them] LORD FROTH, CYNTHIA.

SIR PAUL. How does my girl? Come hither to thy father, poor lamb:
thou'rt melancholic.

LORD FROTH. Heaven, Sir Paul, you amaze me, of all things in the
world. You are never pleased but when we are all upon the broad
grin: all laugh and no company; ah, then 'tis such a sight to see
some teeth. Sure you're a great admirer of my Lady Whifler, Mr.
Sneer, and Sir Laurence Loud, and that gang.

SIR PAUL. I vow and swear she's a very merry woman; but I think she
laughs a little too much.

LORD FROTH. Merry! O Lord, what a character that is of a woman of
quality. You have been at my Lady Whifler's upon her day, madam?

CYNT. Yes, my lord. I must humour this fool. [Aside.]

LORD FROTH. Well, and how? hee! What is your sense of the
conversation?

CYNT. Oh, most ridiculous, a perpetual comfort of laughing without
any harmony; for sure, my lord, to laugh out of time, is as