BLUFF. What says my pretty little knapsack carrier. [To BELINDA.]

BELIN. O monstrous filthy fellow! good slovenly Captain Huffe,
Bluffe (what is your hideous name?) be gone: you stink of brandy
and tobacco, most soldier-like. Foh. [Spits.]

SIR JO. Now am I slap-dash down in the mouth, and have not one
word to say! [Aside.]

ARAM. I hope my fool has not confidence enough to be troublesome.
[Aside.]

SIR JO. Hem! Pray, madam, which way is the wind?

ARAM. A pithy question. Have you sent your wits for a venture,
sir, that you enquire?

SIR JO. Nay, now I'm in, I can prattle like a magpie. [Aside.]


SCENE X.


[To them] SHARPER and VAINLOVE at some distance.

BELIN. Dear Araminta, I'm tired.

ARAM. 'Tis but pulling off our masks, and obliging Vainlove to
know us. I'll be rid of my fool by fair means.--Well, Sir Joseph,