To converse with Scandal is to play at Losing Loadum, you must lose a good name to him, before you can win it for yourself.

They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.

They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.

O, she is the antidote to desire.

I am a fool, I know it; and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.

Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools: they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation, and let father Time shake his glass.

O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.