Chapter 44

[_To them_] WITWOUD _from drinking_.

MRS. FAIN. So, is the fray made up that you have left ’em?

WIT. Left ’em? I could stay no longer. I have laughed like ten Christ’nings. I am tipsy with laughing—if I had stayed any longer I should have burst,—I must have been let out and pieced in the sides like an unsized camlet. Yes, yes, the fray is composed; my lady came in like a _noli prosequi_, and stopt the proceedings.

MILLA. What was the dispute?

WIT. That’s the jest: there was no dispute. They could neither of ’em speak for rage; and so fell a sputt’ring at one another like two roasting apples.