Guz. Have you a mind to be flead, Sir?
Car. Receive my Handkerchief. [Throws it to her.
Fran. His Handkerchief! bless me, what does he mean?
Guz. To do her the honour to lie with her to night.
Fran. Oh, hold, most mighty Turk. [Kneeling.
Guz. Slave, darest thou interrupt ‘em,—die, Dog.
Fran. Hold, hold, I’m silent.
Car. I love you, fair one, and design to make you—
Fran. A most notorious Strumpet. A Pox of his Courtesy.
Car. What Eyes you have like Heaven blue and charming, a pretty Mouth, Neck round and white as polisht Alabaster, and a Complexion beauteous as an Angel, a Hair fit to make Bonds to insnare the God of Love,—a sprightly Air,—a Hand like Lillies white, and Lips, no Roses opening in a Morning are half so sweet and soft.