Mir. Pray, ladies, what makes you
So angry? Methinks the gentleman is
Your friend, and has holpt you nearer heaven
Than perhaps e'er a one of you would ever
Have been.
2d Lady. What's that you say, little piss-a-bed?
Mir. Sweet angels, will never a one of you
Please to descend?
3d Lady. Thou little devil,
If we had thee here, we'd throw thee down again
With such a swing, we'd knock that rascal's brains
Out with thy fall.
Mir. Then, angry ladies, I
Shall stay here—see, has not that lady
A very fair nose at this distance?
Phil. Has
Not t'other there a mouth, that when she opens it
To scold, looks like a giant's cave?
4th Lady. S'life, we'll
Not be abus'd thus; here's a Hercules' statue,
Let's throw it down upon their heads.
[Mirida runs away, and meets Pinguister and stops.
Enter Pinguister and Doctor.
Mir. Hold, Philidor, we shall have some new sport
Of my making now; here comes my fat lover,
Let us stand close and hear a little.