Sir Char. Madam, in short—
Sir Anth. In short to a Widow, in short! quite lost.
Sir Char. I find you treat me ill for my Respect;
And when I court you next,
I will forget how very much I love you.
Sir Anth. Sir, I shall be proud of your farther Acquaintance; for I like, love, and honour you. [To Wild.
Wild. I’ll study to deserve it, Sir.
Sir Anth. Madam, your Servant. A damn’d sneaking Dog, to be civil and modest with a Pox! [Ex. Sir Char, and Sir Anth.
L. Gal. See if my Coach be ready. [Ex. CIos.
Wild. Whether are you janting now?
L. Gal. Where you dare not wait on me, to your Uncle’s to Supper.
Wild. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party;
There they all meet and bargain without Scandal:
Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse,
Whig-land offers not such another Market.