Sir Tim. The same, by Fortune, dear Ned: And how, and how, Man, how go Matters?
Friend. Between who, Sir?
Sir Tim. Why, any Body, Man; but, by Fortune, I’m overjoy’d to meet thee: But where dost think I was going?
Friend. Is’t possible one shou’d divine?
Sir Tim. Is’t possible you shou’d not, and meet me so near your Sister’s Lodgings? Faith, I was coming to pay my Respects and Services, and the rest—Thou know’st my meaning—The old Business of the Silver-World, Ned; by Fortune, it’s a mad Age we live in, Ned; and here be so many—wicked Rogues, about this damn’d leud Town, that, ’.aith, I am fain to speak in the vulgar modish Style, in my own Defence, and railly Matrimony and the rest.
Friend. Matrimony!—I hope you are so exactly refin’d a Man of the Town, that you will not offer once to think of so dull a thing: let that alone for such cold Complexions as Bellmour here, and I, that have not attain’d to that most excellent faculty of Keeping yet, as you, Sir Timothy, have done; much to your Glory, I assure you.
Sir Tim. Who, I, Sir? You do me much Honour: I must confess I do not find the softer Sex cruel; I am received as well as another Man of my Parts.
Friend. Of your Money you mean, Sir.
Sir Tim. Why, ‘faith, Ned, thou art i’th’ right; I love to buy my
Pleasure: for, by Fortune, there’s as much pleasure in Vanity and
Variety, as any Sins I know; What think’st thou, Ned?
Friend. I am not of your Mind, I love to love upon the square; and that I may be sure not to be cheated with false Ware, I present ‘em nothing but my Heart.