Sir Char. Why, is she asleep? Come, come, I’ll wake her. [Offers to force in as to the Bed-chamber.
Clos. Hold, hold, Sir; No, no, she’s a little busy, Sir.
Sir Char. I’ll have no Business done to Night, Sweetheart.
Clos. Hold, hold, I beseech you, Sir, her Mother’s with her; For Heaven’s sake, Sir, be gone.
Sir Char. I’ll not budge.
Sir Anth. No, not a Foot.
Clos. The City you know, Sir, is so censorious—
Sir Char. Damn the City.
Sir Anth. All the Whigs, Charles, all the Whigs.
Sir Char. In short, I am resolv’d, d’ye see, to go to the Widow’s
Chamber.