Geo. Ha! at the Basset-Table!
Ter. Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money—but no more—your Time and Place.
L. Youth. What are you prating to him there?
Ter. He doubts your Love, Madam, and I’m confirming it.
L. Youth. Alas, good Gentleman!—anon I’ll convince him—for in the Ev’ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.
Geo. Ah, Madam, I cou’d wish ’twere not so long defer’d, for sure I love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here prepar’d an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion is sincere.
L. Youth. Good-lack-a-day, indeed you’re so obliging: But pray let us have the Dance. Dance.
L. Youth. Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don’t droop, don’t droop; come, hold up your Head—you may be allow’d one kiss beforehand.
Geo. Kisses her. Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there! Aside.
L. Youth. Come, come, Teresia, come with me.