Mars. Pshaw! You are always a complaining I think. Don't put me out of Humour, now I am just going to the Rehearsal.
Aw'dw. Why are you so ungrateful? Is it from your Lands water'd by Helicon, or my honest dirty Acres, your maintenance proceeds? Yet I must stand like a Foot-boy, unregarded, whilst a noisy Fool takes up your Eyes, your Ears, your every Sense.
Mars. Now, Mr. Aw'dwell, I'll tell you a strange thing: The difference between you and I, shall create a Peace.—As thus: You have a mind to quarrel, I have not; so that there must be a Peace, or only War on your side. Then again, you have a mind to stay here, I have a mind to go, which will be a Truce at least.— [Is going.
Aw'dw. Hold, Madam, do not teaze me thus; tho' you know my Follies and your Power, yet the ill-us'd Slave may break his Chain.
Mars. What wou'd the Man have? If you'll be good humour'd, and go to the Play-house, do; if not, stay here. Ask my Maid Questions, increase your Jealousie, be dogged and be damn'd.
Aw'dw. Obliging? If I shou'd go, I know my Fate; 'twou'd be like standing on the Rack.
Mars. While my Play's Rehearsing! That's an Affront I shall never forgive whilst I breath.
Aw'dw. Tho' I thought not of your Play?
Mars. That's worse.
Aw'dw. Your Carriage, your cruel Carriage, was the thing I meant. If there shou'd be a Man of Quality, as you call 'em, I must not dare to own I know you.