Lord Fop. Sir——I am praud of being at the Head of so prevailing a Party.
Young Fash. Will nothing then provoke thee?—Draw, Coward.
Lord Fop. Look you, Tam, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull Fellow, and here is one of the foolishest Plats broke out, that I have seen a long time. Your Paverty makes your Life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a Quarrel, in hopes either to slip thro' my Lungs into my Estate, or to get yourself run thro' the Guts, to put an end to your Pain. But I will disappoint you in both your Designs; far with the Temper of a Philasapher, and the Discretion of a Statesman—I will go to the Play with my Sword in my Scabbard.
[Exit Lord Fop.
Young Fash. So! Farewel, Snuff-Box. And now, Conscience, I defy thee. Lory!
Enter Lory.
Lo. Sir.
Young Fash. Here's rare News, Lory; his Lordship has given me a Pill has purg'd off all my Scruples.
Lo. Then my Heart's at ease again: For I have been in a lamentable Fright, Sir, ever since your Conscience had the Impudence to intrude into your Company.