Oh, I cannot speak it; oh, the Bottle— Drinks. she has lost her Fame, her Shame, her Name.—Oh, Drinks. that is not the right Bottle, that with the red Cork Drinks. Exit Maundy.
and is grown a very t’other-end-of-the-Town Creature, a very Apple of Sodom, fair without and filthy within, what shall we do with her? she’s lost, undone; hah!
Enter Maundy.
let me see, Drinks. this is Drinks. not as I take it— Drinks. —no, ’tis not the right,—she’s naught, she’s leud, Drinks. —oh, how you vex me— Drinks. This is not the right Bottle yet,— Drinks. No, no, here. Gives her the Bottle.
Maun. You said that with the red Cork, Sir. Goes out.
Sir Pat. I meant the blue;—I know not what I say.— In fine, my Lady, let’s marry her out of hand, for she is fall’n, fall’n to Perdition; she understands more Wickedness than had she been bred in a profane Nunnery, a Court,
Enter Maundy.
or a Play-house, Drinks. —therefore let’s marry her instantly, out of hand Drinks. Misfortune on Misfortune. Drinks. —But Patience is a wonderful Virtue, Drinks. —Ha—this is very comfortable,—very consoling—I profess if it were not for these Creatures, ravishing Comforts, sometimes, a Man were a very odd sort of an Animal Drinks. But ah—see how all things were ordain’d for the use and comfort of Man. Drinks.
L. Fan. I like this well: Ah, Sir, ’tis very true, therefore receive it plentifully and thankfully.
Sir Pat. Drinks. Ingenuously—it hath made me marvellous lightsome; I profess it hath a very notable Faculty,—very knavish—and as it were, waggish,—but hah, what have we there on the Table? a Sword and Hat? Sees Wittmore’s Sword and Hat on the Table, which he had forgot.