Whim. Ay, ay, ’tis enough, he drew—let him be fin’d.
Friend. The Gentleman should be heard, he’s Kinsman too to Colonel John Surelove.
Tim. Hum—Colonel Surelove’s Kinsman.
Whiff. Is he so? nay, then all the reason in the World he should be heard, Brothers.
Whim. Come, come, Cornet, you shall be Friends with the Gentleman; this was some drunken bout, I’ll warrant you.
Tim. Ha, ha, ha, so it was, Gads zoors.
Whiff. Come, drink to the Gentleman, and put it up.
Tim. Sir, my service to you, I am heartily sorry for what’s pass’d, but it was in my drink. Drinks.
Whim. You hear his Acknowledgments, Sir, and when he’s sober he never quarrels. Come, Sir, sit down, my Service to you.
Haz. I beg your excuse, Gentlemen—I have earnest business.