Sir Row. Ounds, they come to mock us!—Hark ye, hark ye, [Tawdrums], if you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks and be gone, d’ye hear.—We are not at leisure for Fooling.
Geo. Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon George kneels.
this one Disobedience of my Life, and all the rest I’ll dedicate to please and humour you. Sir, I am marry’d. Pulls off his Mask.
Sir Row. What the Devil’s that to me, Sir?
Geo. Do not you know me, Sir?
Sir Row. No, Sir, nor don’t care to know any such flaunting Coxcombs.
Geo. Look on me, Sir. Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.
Sir Row. Hum, hum, hum—
Ter. It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav’d your Life from Insolence.
Sir Row. Hum—Teresia!