Fil. A Whore! wou’d I cou’d be convinc’d she were so; ‘twou’d call my Virtue home, and make me Man again.
Gal. Thou ly’st—thou’rt as weak a Brother as the best of us, and believe me, Harry, these sort of Damsels are like Witches, if they once get hold of a Man, he’s their own till the Charm be ended; you guess what that is, Sir?
Fil. Oh, Frank, hadst thou then felt how tenderly she prest my Hand in hers, as if she wou’d have kept it there for ever, it wou’d have made thee mad, stark mad in Love!—and nothing but Marcella cou’d have charm’d me. [Aside.
Gal. Ay, Gad, I’ll warrant thee,—well, thou shalt this Night enjoy her.
Fil. How?
Gal. How! why, faith, Harry, e’en the old way, I know no other. Why, thou shalt lie with her, Man; come, let’s to her.
Fil. Away, let’s follow her instantly. [Going out is stopt by Sir Signal_.
Enter Sir Sig. Tick. Petro.
Sir Sig. Signior, I have brought Mr. Tickletext to beg your Pardon—
Sir.
Fil. I’ve other business, Sir. [Goes out.