_Wit_. Oh! Luckless, I am overjoyed to meet you; here, take this
paper, and you will be discouraged from writing, I warrant you.
_Luck_. What is it?--Oh! one of my play-bills.
_Wit_. One of thy play-bills!
_Luck_. Even so--I have taken the advice you gave me this
morning.
_Wit_. Explain.
_Luck_. Why, I had some time since given this performance of mine
to be rehearsed, and the actors were all perfect in their parts; but
we happened to differ about some particulars, and I had a design to
have given it over; 'till having my play refused by Marplay, I sent
for the managers of the other house in a passion, joined issue with
them, and this very evening it is to be acted.
_Wit_. Well, I wish you success.
_Luck_. Where are you going?
_Wit_. Anywhere but to hear you damned, which I must, was I to go
to your puppet-show.
_Luck_. Indulge me in this trial; and I assure thee, if it be
successless, it shall be the last.
_Wit_. On that condition I will; but should the torrent run
against you, I shall be a fashionable friend and hiss with the rest.
_Luck_. No, a man who could do so unfashionable and so generous a
thing as Mr Witmore did this morning----
_Wit_. Then I hope you will return it, by never mentioning it to
me more. I will now to the pit.
_Luck_. And I behind the scenes.