Blunt. Who the Devil wou’d have look’d for jilting in such Hobgoblins?
Feth. And hast thou deceiv’d me, [thou foul filthy Synagogue]?
Enter Willmore like a Mountebank as before.
Blunt. The Mountebank! oh thou cheating Quack, thou sophisticated adulterated Villain.
Feth. Thou cozening, lying, Fortune-telling, Feetaking Rascal.
Blunt. Thou jugling, conjuring, canting Rogue!
Will. What’s the matter, Gentlemen?
Blunt. Hast thou the Impudence to ask, who took my Money to marry me to this ill-favour’d Baboon?
Feth. And me to this foul filthy o’ergrown Chronicle?
Blunt. And hast suffered Rogues, thy Servants, to marry ’em: Sirrah, I will beat thee past Cure of all thy hard-nam’d Drugs, thy [Guzman Medicines].