Sir Tim. Why, he’s gone, Sir; a Pox of all Mistakes and Masqueradings
I say—this was your Plot, Sham.
Char. Coward! Shew then thy Face.
Sir Tim. I’ll be hang’d first, by Fortune; for then ‘twill be plain ’.was I, because I challeng’d Bellmour last Night, and broke my Assignation this Morning. [Aside.
Char. Shew thy Face without delay, or—
Sir Tim. My Face, Sir! I protest, by Fortune, ‘tis not worth seeing.
Char. Then, Sirrah, you are worth a kicking—take that—and that— [Kicks him.
Sir Tim. How, Sir? how?
Char. So, Sir, so. [Kicks him again.
Sir Tim. Have a care, Sir—by Fortune, I shall fight with a little more.
Char. Take that to raise you. [Strikes him.