Thomas. What, do you dare to do such a thing before me, you country brute?
Humphry. Aye, no sooner said than done; that's my way.
Thomas. But you sha'n't say nor do your lascivious tricks before me, I warrant you.
Dolly. Oh, the filthy beast! he has frightened me out of my seventy-seven senses; he has given me a fever.
Humphry. I don't care if you'll give me a favour, or not; for I don't value it an old horse-shoe, not I; I can get favours enough in New-York, if I go to the expense.—I know what—I suppose you forget when Jack Wrestle, the country mack-marony—
Dolly. Oh, oh!
Humphry. Why, in the country you us'd for to kiss me without axing.
Dolly. I scorn your words, you worthless blackguard; so I do.
[Cries.
Thomas. Sir, I'd have you to know, sir, that I won't suffer you, sir, to abuse this young lady, sir, in this manner, sir; and, sir—in short, sir, you're a dirty fellow, for your pains, sir.