Sir Anth. D’ye hear that, Sirrah?—Ay, so he is, indeed, Madam—To her like a Man, ye Knave. [Aside to him.
Sir Char. Ah, Madam, I am come—
Sir Anth. To shew your self a Coxcomb.
L. Gal. To tire me with Discourses of your Passion—
Fie, how this Curl fits!
[Looking in the Glass.
Sir Char. No, you shall hear no more of that ungrateful Subject.
Sir Anth. Son of a Whore, hear no more of Love, damn’d Rogue! Madam, by George, he lyes; he does come to speak of Love, and make Love, and to do Love, and all for Love—Not come to speak of Love, with a Pox! Owns, Sir, behave your self like a Man; be impudent, be saucy, forward, bold, touzing, and leud, d’ye hear, or I’ll beat thee before her: why, what a Pox! [Aside to him, he minds it not.
Sir Char. Finding my Hopes quite lost in your unequal Favours to young Wilding, I’m quitting of the Town.
L. Gal. You will do well to do so—lay by that Necklace, I’ll wear
Pearl to day. [To Clos.
Sir Anth. Confounded Blockhead!—by George, he lyes again, Madam. A Dog, I’ll disinherit him. [Aside.] He quit the Town, Madam! no, not whilst your Ladyship is in it, to my Knowledge. He’ll live in the Town, nay, in the Street where you live; nay, in the House; nay, in the very Bed, by George; I’ve heard him a thousand times swear it. Swear it now, Sirrah: look, look, how he stands now! Why, dear Charles, good Boy, swear a little, ruffle her, and swear, damn it, she shall have none but thee. [Aside to him.] Why, you little think, Madam, that this Nephew of mine is one of the maddest Fellows in all Devonshire.
L. Gal. Wou’d I cou’d see’t, Sir.