Lady. Have you no manners in you?
Elder Lo. And say my back was melted, when God he knows, I kept it at a charge: Four Flaunders Mares would have been easier to me, and a Fencer.
Lady. You think all this is true now?
Elder Lo. Faith whether it be or no, 'tis too good for you. But so much for our mirth: Now have at you in earnest.
L[a]. There is enough Sir, I desire no more.
El. Lo. Yes faith, wee'l have a cast at your best parts now. And then the Devil take the worst.
Lady. Pray Sir no more, I am not so much affected with your commendations, 'tis almost dinner, I know they stay for you at the Ordinary.
Elder Lo. E'ne a short Grace, and then I am gone; You are a woman, and the proudest that ever lov'd a Coach: the scornfullest, scurviest, and most senceless woman; the greediest to be prais'd, and never mov'd though it be gross and open; the most envious, that at the poor fame of anothers face, would eat your own, and more than is your own, the paint belonging to it: of such a self opinion, that you think none can deserve your glove: and for your malice, you are so excellent, you might have been your Tempters tutor: nay, never cry.
Lady. Your own heart knows you wrong me: I cry for ye?
Elder Lo. You shall before I leave you.