LORD FOPPINGTON.
I do, stap my vitals!
TOM FASHION.
Now, by all that’s great and powerful, thou art the prince of coxcombs!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Sir, I am proud at being at the head of so prevailing a party.
TOM FASHION.
Will nothing provoke thee?—Draw, coward!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
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 lang time. Your poverty makes life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a quarrel, in hopes either to slip through my lungs into my estate, or to get yourself run through 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 shall leave the room with my sword in the scabbard. [Exit.]
TOM FASHION.
So! farewell, brother; and now, conscience, I defy thee. Lory!
Enter LORY.
LORY.
Sir!
TOM FASHION.
Here’s rare news, Lory; his lordship has given me a pill has purged off all my scruples.
LORY.
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.