Wit. None, Sir,—Wou’d I had—so you were hang’d. Aside.
L. Fan. Nay, Sir, you may believe, I knew his Capacities and Abilities before I would encourage his Addresses.
Sir Pat. My Lady Fancy, you are a discreet Lady;—Well, I’ll marry her out of hand, to prevent Mr. Lodwick’s hopes: for though the young man may deserve well, that Mother of his I’ll have nothing to do with, since she refused to marry my Nephew. Aside.
Enter Fanny.
Fan. Sir Father, here’s my Lady Knowell, and her Family come to see you.
Sir Pat. How! her whole Family! I am come to keep open House; very fine, her whole Family! she’s Plague enough to mortify any good Christian,—Tell her, my Lady and I am gone forth; tell her any thing to keep her away.
Fan. Shou’d I tell a lye, Sir Father, and to a Lady of her Quality?
Sir Pat. Her Quality and she are a Couple of Impertinent things, which are very troublesome, and not to be indur’d I take it.
Fan. Sir, we shou’d bear with things we do not love sometimes, ’tis a sort of Trial, Sir, a kind of Mortification fit for a good Christian.
Sir Pat. Why, what a notable talking Baggage is this! How came you by this Doctrine?