Clinch. jun. Oh, lord! Oh, lord! a whore! Why, are there many in this town?
Dicky. Ha! ha! ha! many! there's a question, indeed!——Harkye, sir; do you see that woman there, in the pink cloak and white feathers.
Clinch. jun. Ay, sir! what then?
Dicky. Why, she shall be at your service in three minutes, as I'm a pimp.
Clinch. jun. Oh, Jupiter Ammon! Why, she's a gentlewoman.
Dicky. A gentlewoman! Why so they are all in town, sir.
Enter Clincher senior.
Clinch. sen. Brother, you're welcome to London.
Clinch. jun. I thought, brother, you owed so much to the memory of my father, as to wear mourning for his death.
Clinch. sen. Why, so I do, fool; I wear this, because I have the estate; and you wear that, because you have not the estate. You have cause to mourn, indeed, brother. Well, brother, I'm glad to see you; fare you well. [Going.