Lord Fop. Thou art a generous Fellow, strike me dumb. [Aside.] But thou hast an impertinent Wife, stap my Vitals.
Syr. So, carry him off, carry him off, we shall have him prate himself into a Fever by and by; carry him off.
[Ex. Serv. with L. Fop.
Aman. Now on my Knees, my Dear, let me ask your pardon for my Indiscretion, my own I never shall obtain.
Lov. Oh, there's no harm done: You serv'd him well.
Aman. He did indeed deserve it. But I tremble to think how dear my indiscreet Resentment might have cost you.
Lov. O, no matter; never trouble yourself about that.
Ber. For Heaven's sake, what was't he did to you?
Aman. O nothing; he only squeez'd me kindly by the Hand, and frankly offer'd me a Coxcomb's Heart. I know I was to blame to resent it as I did, since nothing but a Quarrel could ensue. But the Fool so surpriz'd me with his Insolence, I was not Mistress of my Fingers.
Ber. Now I dare swear, he thinks you had 'em at great Command, they obey'd you so readily.