Let him come in: All go out but Fred, to him Cur.
—Are you the Master of the Ceremony?
Cur. I am.
Fred. Be speedy then, and by my Impatiency
To be with that agreeable Stranger,
Guess at my Approbation of the Ladies, and which I chuse.
Cur. Your mighty Heat, Sir, will be soon allay’d.
Fred. Shall it?
Cur. Yes, Sir, it shall, for you must die.
Fred. Sure thou art mad to tell me so, whoe’er thou be’st,