Enter Sir Timothy, Sham and Sharp, with Fidlers and Boy.
Sir Tim. I believe this is the Bed-chamber Window where the Bride and Bridegroom lies.
Sham. Well, and what do you intend to do, if it be, Sir?
Sir Tim. Why, first sing a Baudy Song, and then break the Windows, in revenge for the Affront was put upon me to night.
Sharp. Faith, Sir, that’s but a poor Revenge, and which every Footman may take of his Lady, who has turn’d him away for filching—You know, Sir, Windows are frail, and will yield to the lusty Brickbats; ‘tis an Act below a Gentleman.
Sir Tim. That’s all one, ‘tis my Recreation; I serv’d a Woman so the other night, to whom my Mistress had a Pique.
Sham. Ay, Sir, ‘tis a Revenge fit only for a Whore to take—And the Affront you receiv’d to Night, was by mistake.
Sir Tim. Mistake! how can that be?
Sham. Why, Sir, did you not mind, that he that drew upon Bellmour, was in the same Dress with you.
Sir Tim. How shou’d his be like mine?