CARE. And thou art always spoiling company by coming in o't.
BRISK. Pooh, ha, ha, ha, I know you envy me. Spite, proud spite,
by the gods! and burning envy. I'll be judged by Mellefont here,
who gives and takes raillery better than you or I. Pshaw, man, when
I say you spoil company by leaving it, I mean you leave nobody for
the company to laugh at. I think there I was with you. Ha,
Mellefont?
MEL. O' my word, Brisk, that was a home thrust; you have silenced
him.
BRISK. Oh, my dear Mellefont, let me perish if thou art not the
soul of conversation, the very essence of wit and spirit of wine.
The deuce take me if there were three good things said, or one
understood, since thy amputation from the body of our society. He,
I think that's pretty and metaphorical enough; i'gad I could not
have said it out of thy company. Careless, ha?
CARE. Hum, ay, what is't?
BRISK. O MON COEUR! What is't! Nay, gad, I'll punish you for want
of apprehension. The deuce take me if I tell you.
MEL. No, no, hang him, he has no taste. But, dear Brisk, excuse
me, I have a little business.
CARE. Prithee get thee gone; thou seest we are serious.
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