Sir John. I'll cuckold you, with a Pox.
Const. Heav'n! Sir John, what's the matter?
Sir John. Sure, if Women had been ready created, the Devil, instead of being kick'd down into Hell, had been marry'd.
Heart. Why, what new Plague have you found now?
Sir John. Why, these two Gentlewomen did but hear me say, I expected you here this Afternoon; upon which they presently resolv'd to take up the Room, o' purpose to plague me and my Friends.
Const. Was that all? Why, we shou'd have been glad of their Company.
Sir John. Then I should have been weary of yours; for I can't relish both together. They found fault with my smoaking Tobacco, too; and said Men stunk. But I have a good mind—to say something.
Const. No, nothing against the Ladies, pray.
Sir John. Split the Ladies! Come, will you sit down? Give us some Wine, Fellow: You won't smoak?
Const.. No; nor drink, neither, at this time—I must ask your Pardon.