Dia. Yes, he pawn’d me at the Basset-Table; and, in Revenge, I resolv’d to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.
Sir Row. The Fool had more Wit than I thought he had; for which I’ll give him a Thousand Pound a Year.
Geo. I humbly thank you, Sir.
Mir. Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?
Sir Morg. Alas, Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but rest her Soul, she’s burnt. Weeps.
And I shall never see any thing again like her.
Mir. No! What think you of this Face, Sir?
Sir Morg. As Gad shall sa’ me, as like as if the same.
L. Blun. In troth, and so she is.
Prince. ’Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv’d her from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.