Sir Char. Why, do but hear me, Uncle; Lord, you’re so hasty! Why, look ye, I am as ready, d’ye see, as any Man on these Occasions.
Sir Anth. Are you so, Sir? and I’ll make you willing, or try Toledo with you, Sir—Why, what, I shall have you whining when you are sober again, traversing your Chamber with Arms across, railing on Love and Women, and at last defeated, turn whipping Tom, to revenge your self on the whole Sex.
Sir Char. My dear Uncle, come kiss me and be friends; I will be rul’d.
[Kisses him.
Sir Anth.—A most admirable good-natur’d Boy this! [Aside.
Well then, dear Charles, know, I have brought thee now hither to the
Widow’s House, with a Resolution to have thee order matters so, as before
thou quitst her, she shall be thy own, Boy.
Sir Char. Gad, Uncle, thou’rt a Cherubin! Introduce me, d’ye see, and if I do not so woo the Widow, and so do the Widow, that e’er morning she shall be content to take me for better for worse—Renounce me! Egad, I’ll make her know the Lord God from Tom Bell, before I have done with her. Nay, backt by my noble Uncle, I’ll venture on her, had she all Cupid’s Arrows, genus’s Beauty, and Messalina’s Fire, d’ye see.
Sir Anth. A sweet Boy, a very sweet Boy! Hum, thou art damnable handsome to Night, Charles—Ay, thou wilt do’t; I see a kind of resistless Leudness about thee, a most triumphant Impudence, loose and wanton. [Stands looking on him.
Enter Closet.
Clos. Heavens, Gentlemen, what makes you here at this time of Night?
Sir Char. Where’s your Lady?
Clos. Softly, dear Sir.