Coup. Wou'd the Pox had the Doctor——I'm quite out of Wind [To Lo.] Set me a Chair, Sirrah. Ah——[Sits down.] [To Young Fash.] Why the Plague can'st not thou lodge upon the Ground-Floor?
Young Fash. Because I love to lie as near Heaven as I can.
Coup. Pr'ythee let Heaven alone; ne'er affect tending that way: Thy Center's downwards.
Young Fash. That's impossible. I have too much ill Luck in this World, to be damn'd in the next.
Coup. Thou art out in thy Logick. Thy Major is true, but thy Minor is false; for thou art the luckiest Fellow in the Universe.
Young Fash. Make out that.
Coup. I'll do't: Last Night the Devil ran away with the Parson of Fat-goose Living.
Young Fash. If he had run away with the Parish too, what's that to me?
Coup. I'll tell thee what it's to thee. This Living is worth five hundred Pound a-year, and the Presentation of it is thine, if thou can'st prove thyself a lawful Husband to Miss Hoyden.
Young Fash. Say'st thou so, my Protector! then I'gad I shall have a Brace of Evidences here presently.