[Aside.
Lop. Feel how I burn with hot desire, Ah! pity me, and quench my Fire. Deaf, my fair Tyrant, deaf to my Woes! Nay, then, Barbarian, in it goes.
[Drawing a Knife.
Jac. Why, how now, Jack Sauce? why, how now, Presumption? What Encouragement have I given you, Jack-a-lent, to attack me with your Tenders? I cou'd tear your Eyes out, Sirrah, for thinking I'm such a one. What Indecency have you seen in my Behaviour, Impudence, that you shou'd think me for your beastly Turn, you Goat, you?
Lop. Patience, my much offended Goddess, 'tis honourably I wou'd share your Bed.
Jac. Peace, I say—Mr. Liquorish. I, for whom the most successful Cavaliers employ their Sighs in vain, shall I look down upon a crawling Worm? Pha—See that Crop Ear there, that Vermin that wants to eat at a Table, would set his Master's Mouth a-watering.
Lop. May I presume to make an humble Meal upon what savoury Remnants he may leave?
Jac. No.
Lop. 'Tis hard! 'tis wondrous hard!
Jac. Leave me.