Mrs. Clack. She begs you’ll come again an Hour hence.
Wild. Delay’d! by Heaven, I will have entrance.
Fop. Ruin’d! undone! for if he do not kill me, he may starve me.
Mrs. Clack. Oh, he will not break in upon us! Hold, Sir, hold a little; Mrs. Charlot is just—just—shifting her self, Sir; you will not be so uncivil as to press in, I hope, at such a Time.
Charl. I have a fine time on’t, between ye, to have him think I am stripping my self before Mr. Foppington—Let go, or I’ll call out and tell him all.
[Wild, breaks open the Door and rushes in: Fop. stands close up at the entrance till he is past him, then venturing to slip out, finds Wild, has made fast the Door: so he is forc’d to return again and stand close up behind Wild. with signs of Fear.
Wild. How now, Charlot, what means this new Unkindness? what, not a Word?
Charl. There is so little Musick in my Voice, you do not care to hear it: you have been better entertain’d, I find, mightily employ’d, no doubt.
Wild. Yes, faith, and so I have, Charlot: damn’d Business, that Enemy to Love, has made me rude.
Charl. Or that other Enemy to Love, damn’d Wenching.