Mr. Pow. O Heav'ns! Let me go! Yours shall be done to day, and yours to morrow; farewell for a Couple of Teazers! Oh the Devil! [Flinging from 'em.
Marsillia Entring, meets him.
Mars. What in a Heat, and a Passion, and all that, Mr. Powell? Lord! I'll tell you, Mr. Powell, I have been in a Heat, and Fret, and all that, Mr. Powell! I met two or three idle People of Quality, who thinking I had no more to do than themselves, stop'd my Chair, and teaz'd me with a Thousand foolish Questions.
Mr. Pow. Ay, Madam, I ha' been plagu'd with Questions too.
Mars. There's nothing gives me greater Fatigue than any one that talks much; Oh! 'Tis the superlative Plague of the Universe. Ump! This foolish Patch won't stick: Oh Lord! Don't go Mr. Powell, I have a World of things to say to you. [Patching at her Glass.
Mr. Pow. The more's my Sorrow.
Enter Mr. Praiseall and Mrs. Knight.
Mar. How do you like my Play, Mr. Powell?
Mr. Pow. Extraordinary, Madam, 'tis like your Ladyship, at Miracle.
Calis. How civilly he treats her.