Lord Fop. Sir, you'll find the House will compound for my Appearance.
Lov. But your Friends will take it ill if you don't attend their particular Causes.
Lord Fop. Not, Sir, if I come time enough to give 'em my particular Vote.
Ber. But pray, my Lord, how do you dispose of yourself on Sundays? for that, methinks, shou'd hang wretchedly on your hands.
Lord Fop. Why, faith, Madam——Sunday——is a vile day, I must confess; I intend to move for leave to bring in a Bill, That Players may work upon it, as well as the Hackney Coaches. Tho' this I must say for the Government, it leaves us the Churches to entertain us——But then again, they begin so abominable early, a Man must rise by Candle-light to get dress'd by the Psalm.
Ber. Pray which Church does your Lordship most oblige with your Presence?
Lord Fop. Oh, St. James's, Madam——There's much the best Company.
Aman. Is there good Preaching too?
Lord Fop. Why, faith, Madam——I can't tell. A Man must have very little to do there, that can give an Account of the Sermon.
Ber. You can give us an Account of the Ladies, at least.