[To them] LADY FROTH, BRISK.
BRISK. My lord, your humble servant; Sir Paul, yours,--the finest night!
LADY FROTH. My dear, Mr. Brisk and I have been star-gazing, I don't know how long.
SIR PAUL. Does it not tire your ladyship? Are not you weary with looking up?
LADY FROTH. Oh, no, I love it violently. My dear, you're melancholy.
LORD FROTH. No, my dear; I'm but just awake.
LADY FROTH. Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn.
LORD FROTH. I've some of my own, thank you, dear.
LADY FROTH. Well, I swear, Mr. Brisk, you understood astronomy like an old Egyptian.
BRISK. Not comparably to your ladyship; you are the very Cynthia of the skies, and queen of stars.
LADY FROTH. That's because I have no light but what's by reflection from you, who are the sun.
BRISK. Madam, you have eclipsed me quite, let me perish. I can't answer that.
LADY FROTH. No matter. Hark 'ee, shall you and I make an almanac together?
BRISK. With all my soul. Your ladyship has made me the man in't already, I'm so full of the wounds which you have given.
LADY FROTH. O finely taken! I swear now you are even with me. O Parnassus, you have an infinite deal of wit.
SIR PAUL. So he has, gads-bud, and so has your ladyship.
