Old Laroon, Young Laroon, Isabel, Beatrice.
Old Lar. You are a fine Spark truly to let your Father visit your Mistress before you—'Sdeath! I believe you are no Son of mine. Where have you been, Sir? What have you been doing, Sir, hey?
Y. Lar. Sir, I have been at my Devotions.
Old Lar. At your Devotions! nay, then you are no Son of mine, that's certain. Is not this the Shrine you are to offer up at, Sirrah! Is not here the Altar you are to officiate at?—Sirrah! you have no Blood of mine in you. I believe you are the Bastard of some travelling English Alderman, and must have come into the World with a Custard in your Mouth.
Y. Lar. I hope, Madam, you will allow my Excuse, tho' the old Gentleman here will not.
Old Lar. Old Gentleman! very fine! Sirrah! I'll convince you I am a young Gentleman; I'll marry to-night, and make you a Brother before you are a Father; I'll teach you to thrust him out of the World that thrust you into it——Madam, have no more to say to the ungracious Dog.
Y. Lar. That will be a sure way to quit all Obligations between us; for the Happiness I propose in this Lady, is the chief Reason why I should thank you for bringing me into the World.
Old Lar. What's that you say, Sir; say that again, Sir.
Y. Lar. I was only thanking you, Sir, for desiring this Lady to take from me all I esteem on Earth.
Old Lar. Well enough that! I begin to think him my own again. I have made that very Speech to half the Women in Paris.