Olin. On easy Terms perhaps, but this marrying I do not like; ’tis like going a long Voyage to Sea, where after a while even the Calms are distasteful, and the Storms dangerous: one seldom sees a new Object, ’tis still a deal of Sea, Sea; Husband, Husband, every day,—till one’s quite cloy’d with it.
Car. A mad Girl this, Son.
Hau. Ay, Sir, but I wish she had left out the simile, [it made my Stomach wamble].
Glo. Pray, Sir, let you the Maid alone as an Utensil belonging to my Place and Office, and meddle you with the Mistress.
Hau. Faith now, thou hast the better Bargain of the two; my Mistress looks so scurvily and civil, that I don’t know what to say to her—Lady—hang’t, that look has put me quite out again.
Car. To her, Son, to her—
Hau. Hark ye, Lady—Well, what next now? Oh pox, quite out, quite out; tell me whether the old Man ly’d or no, when he told me you lov’d me.
Euph. I love you!
Hau. Look you there now, how she looks again.
Car. She’s only bashful, Sir, before me; therefore if you please to take a small Collation, that has waited within for you this three Hours—