SIR OLIVER. Well come give us a bottle of good wine—and we'll drink the Lads' Healths and tell you our scheme.
SIR PETER. Alons [Allons], then——
SIR OLIVER. But don't Sir Peter be so severe against your old Friend's son.
SIR PETER. 'Tis his Vices and Follies have made me his Enemy.—
ROWLEY. Come—come—Sir Peter consider how early He was left to his own guidance.
SIR OLIVER. Odds my Life—I am not sorry that He has run out of the course a little—for my Part, I hate to see dry Prudence clinging to the green juices of youth—'tis like ivy round a sapling and spoils the growth of the Tree.
END OF THE SECOND ACT