LORD FOPPINGTON.
Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose myself to the ladies.
LA VAROLE.
I wish your lordship would please to keep house a little longer; I’m afraid your honour does not well consider your wound.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
My wound!—I would not be in eclipse another day, though I had as many wounds in my body as I have had in my heart. So mind, Varole, let these cards be left as directed; for this evening I shall wait on my future father-in-law, Sir Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the lady, by giving an entertainment at her father’s expense; and hark thee, tell Mr. Loveless I request he and his company will honour me with their presence, or I shall think we are not friends.
LA VAROLE.
I will be sure, milor. [Exit.]
Enter TOM FASHION.
TOM FASHION.
Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself today?
LORD FOPPINGTON.
So well that I have ardered my coach to the door—so there’s no danger of death this baut, Tam.
TOM FASHION.
I’m very glad of it.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
[Aside.] That I believe a lie.—[Aloud.] Pr’ythee, Tam, tell me one thing—did not your heart cut a caper up to your mauth, when you heard I was run through the bady?
TOM FASHION.
Why do you think it should?