Enter Justice Merryman and Summerfield.
Mer. Sir, do you take me for your Friend?
Sum. Why d’ you ask me such a Question, Sir? ’twere base Ingratitude to entertain any other Thought.
Mer. Why then d’ ye see, Sir; as you are my Friend, you must not fight my Son Bonvile.
Sum. Not fight him Sir! you amaze me.
Mer. Aye, aye, aye; that’s all one: I understand your dumb Signs and your low Whispers, the French Mode all over, to smile and grin a Man in the Face, and at the same time privately cut his Throat. Therefore prithe be ruled by me, and don’t fight him, for shou’d you kill him, my poor Girl wou’d break her Heart, quite break her Heart. [Sobs and cries.] I grant that you are wrong’d, and so I dare swear is my dear Child: but he’s her Husband, and must be born with, ods bobs he must.
Sum. Heaven be my Witness, I ne’re entertain’d a Thought like it!
Mer. That’s well, that’s well, I am heartily glad on’t, ods bobs I am heartily glad.
[Enter Friendly.
But here comes one that has made all this Mischief; and him I’ll fight my self for all I’m a Justice of the Peace. Come, come, Sir, Draw, draw; you’ll belie my Daughter again wil you? Come, draw, I say, Draw.
[Draws.
Fri. Sir, as I am a Gentleman, I scorn to deny my Words, but there’s my Author, whether good or ill.
Mer. Who, he? He, do ye mean him?