Enter Sham, bringing in Sir Timothy.
Sir Tim. Well, Sham, thou hast prepar’d all things, and there needs no Ceremony.
Sham. None, none, Sir; you may fall down-right to the Business. [Exit.
Enter Phillis.
Sir Tim. sings.
Come, my Phillis, let us improve
Both our Joys of equal Love;
Whilst we in yonder shady Grove,
Count Minutes by our Kisses.
Phil. What sort of Courtship’s this? ‘tis very odd!
Sir Tim. Pox on formal Fops; we have high-born and generous Souls, and scorn the common Road—Come, let’s enjoy, whilst Youth and Beauty lasts.
Phil. What means this Rudeness? I’ll tell my Brother.
Sir Tim. Your Brother! by Fortune, he’s so leud, that should I he so unconscionable to leave thee a Virgin but this Night, he wou’d ravish thee himself, and that at cheaper Rates than I design to do it.