spoiled among 'em, a good hopeful lad, till he learned to be a wit;
and might have risen in the state. But, a pox on't, his wit run him
out of his money, and now his poverty has run him out of his wits.

ANG. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell you you are very much
abused in that matter: he's no more mad than you are.

SIR SAMP. How, madam! Would I could prove it.

ANG. I can tell you how that may be done. But it is a thing that
would make me appear to be too much concerned in your affairs.

SIR SAMP. Odsbud, I believe she likes me. [Aside.] Ah, madam, all
my affairs are scarce worthy to be laid at your feet; and I wish,
madam, they were in a better posture, that I might make a more
becoming offer to a lady of your incomparable beauty and merit. If
I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in t'other, and the Eastern
Empire under my feet, it would make me only a more glorious victim
to be offered at the shrine of your beauty.

ANG. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the matter?

SIR SAMP. Odd, madam, I love you. And if you would take my advice
in a husband -

ANG. Hold, hold, Sir Sampson. I asked your advice for a husband,
and you are giving me your consent. I was indeed thinking to
propose something like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine:
for if a match were seemingly carried on between you and me, it
would oblige him to throw off his disguise of madness, in