the violence of singularity

LITTLEWIT: …Well, go thy ways, John Littlewit, Proctor John Littlewit—one o’ the pretty wits o’ Paul’s, the Little Wit of London, so thou art called, and something beside. When a quirk or a quiblin does scape thee, and thou dost not watch, and apprehend it, and bring it afore the constable of conceit—there now, I speak quib too—let ’em carry thee out ‘o the Archdeacon’s court into his kitchen, and make a Jack of thee, instead of a John. There I am again, la! LITTLEWIT: … But give me the man can start up a Justice of Wit out of…