Prais. Ay, he will quarrel, I find.—— [Aside. Sir, I was never taught to practice Feats of Arms in a Lady's Anti-Chamber.
Aw'dw. The Fool's afraid: Yet shall I have the Pleasure to see Marsilia prefer this Fop to me before my Face. [Exit.
Enter Marsilia, Calista, and Mrs. Wellfed.
Mars. I must beg your Learned Ladyship's Pardon. Aristotle never said such a Word, upon my Credit.——Patty, What an Air these Pinners have? Pull 'em more behind.——Oh my Stars, she has pull'd my Head-cloaths off!
Calist. I cannot but re-mind you, Madam, you are mistaken; for I read Aristotle in his own Language: The Translation may alter the Expression.
Aw'dw. Oh that I cou'd but Conjure up the Old Philosopher, to hear these Women pull him in pieces!
Mar. Nay, Madam, if you are resolv'd to have the last Word, I ha' done; for I am no lover of Words, upon my Credit.
Prais. I am glad to hear her say sh'as done, for I dare not interrupt her.—Madam, your Ladyship's most humble.——
Mars. Mr. Praiseall, Yours.
Prais. Charming Calista, I kiss those enchanting Fingers.