Cel. Inhuman Brother! Will you leave me alone with this Sot?
Friend. Yes, and if you would be rid of the trouble of him, be not coy, nor witty; two things he hates.
Bel. ‘Sdeath! Must she be blown upon by that Fool?
Friend. Patience, dear Frank, a little while.
[Exeunt Friend. Bell. Sham and Sharp.
[Sir Timothy walks about the Room, expecting when
Celinda should speak.
Cel. Oh, dear Nurse, what shall I do?
Nur. I that ever help you at a dead Lift, will not fail you now.
Sir Tim. What a Pox, not a Word?
Cel. Sure this Fellow believes I’ll begin.