Bea. I fancy then it will be shortly Time for you to think of it, Sir!
Old Lar. Ay, Madam, about some thirty or forty Years hence it may——Odsheart! I am but in the prime of my Years yet: And if it was not for a saucy young Rascal who looks me in the Face and calls me Father, might make a very good Figure among the Beaus. But tho' I am not so young in Years, I am in Constitution as any of them; and I don't question but to live to see a Son and a great Grandson both born on the same Day.
Isa. You will excuse this Lady, Mr. Laroon, who is going to retire so much earlier—
Old Lar. Retire!—Then it is with a young Fellow, I hope.
Isa. Into a Cloister, I assure you.
Old Lar. A Cloister!—Why, Madam, if you have a mind to hang your self at the Year's End; would it not be better to spend your Time in Matrimony than in a Nunnery? Don't let a Set of rascally Priests put strange Notions in your Head. Take my Word for it, and I am a very honest Fellow, there are no Raptures worth a Louse, but those in the Arms of a brisk young Cavalier. Of all the Actions of my Youth, there are none I reflect on with so much Pleasure as having burnt half a Dozen Nunneries, and delivered several hundred Virgins out of Captivity.
Bea. Oh! Villany! unheard of Villany!
Isa. Unheard of till this Moment I dare swear.
Old Lar. Out of which Number there are at present nine Countesses, three Dutchesses, and a Queen, who owe their Liberty and their Promotion to this Arm.
SCENE III.