The Mask ended, enter Young Fash, Coupler, and Bull.
Sir Tun. So, very fine, very fine, i'faith; this is something like a Wedding; now if Supper were but ready, I'd say a short Grace; and if I had such a Bedfellow as Hoyden to night——I'd say as short Prayers.
Seeing Young Fash. How now——what have we got here? A Ghost? Nay, it must be so; for his Flesh and Blood cou'd never have dar'd to appear before me. [To him.] Ah, Rogue——
Lord Fop. Stap my Vitals, Tam again?
Sir Tun. My Lord, will you cut his Throat? Or shall I?
Lord Fop. Leave him to me, Sir, if you please. Pr'ythee, Tam, be so ingenuous now, as to tell me what thy Business is here?
Young Fash. 'Tis with your Bride.
Lord Fop. Thau art the impudent'st Fellow that Nature has yet spawn'd into the Warld, strike me speechless.
Young Fash. Why you know my Modesty wou'd have starv'd me; I sent it a-begging to you, and you wou'd not give it a Groat.
Lord Fop. And dost thau expect by an excess of Assurance to extart a Maintenance fram me?