Sav. Thou art a most licentious fellow!
Court. I should hate my own wife, that's certain; but I have a warm heart for those of other people; and so here's to the prettiest Wife in England—Lady Frances Touchwood.
Sav. Lady Frances Touchwood! I rise to drink her. (drinks) How the devil came Lady Frances in your head? I never knew you give a Woman of Chastity before.
Court. That's odd, for you have heard me give half the Women of Fashion in England.—But, pray now, what do you take a Woman of Chastity to be? (sneeringly.)
Sav. Such a woman as Lady Frances Touchwood, Sir.
Court. Oh, you are grave, Sir; I remember you was an Adorer of her's—Why didn't you marry her?
Sav. I had not the arrogance to look so high—Had my fortune been worthy of her, she should not have been ignorant of my admiration.
Court. Precious fellow! What, I suppose you would not dare tell her now that you admire her?
Sav. No, nor you.
Court. By the Lord, I have told her so.