Sir Mer. And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv’d to shew our selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.
L. Youth. Your Mistress, Sir Merlin? mistake not your Mark.
Sir Mer. Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look’st as magnificiently as [old Queen Bess in the Westminster-Cupboard].
Sir Morg. Lookye as [de] see, when Adam wore a Beard, she was in her Prime, or so, [de] see. Sings.
L. Youth. Sir, you are a saucy Jack, and your Father shall correct you.
Sir Mer. My Father! my Father’s an old Toast, de see; and I hope to see him hang’d.
Sir Row. Here’s a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang’d!
Sir Mer. Ay, hang’d, and all the old Fathers in Christendom. Why, what a Pox shou’d Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.
Sir Row. A damn’d Rogue, I’ll disinherit him immediately.
L. Blun. Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?