O. Book. But I don't observe you affected much with the alterations. Where have you been?
Y. Book. No, faith, the New Exchange[60] has taken up all my curiosity.
O. Book. Oh! but, son, you must not go to places to stare at women! Did you buy anything?
Y. Book. Some baubles. But my choice was so distracted among the pretty merchants and their dealers, I knew not where to run first. One little, lisping rogue—"Ribbandths, gloveths, tippeths"—"Sir," cries another, "will you buy a fine sword-knot?" Then a third pretty voice and curtsey—"Does not your lady want hoods, scarfs, fine green silk stockings?"[61] I went by as if I had been in a seraglio, a living gallery of beauties, staring from side to side—I bowing, they laughing—so made my escape, and brought your son and heir safe to you, through all these darts and glances, to which indeed my breast is not impregnable. But I wonder whence I had this amorous inclination?
O. Book. Whoever you had it from, sirrah, 'tis your business to correct it, by fixing it upon a proper object—But, Tom, you know I am always glad to hear you talk with the gaiety before me that you do elsewhere. But I have now something of consequence (that sudden, serious look was so like me). [Aside.]—What I am going to say now, I tell you is extraordinary.
Y. Book. I could not indeed help some seeming extravagancies I have been forced to. But——
O. Book. I do not grudge you your expenses, I was not going to speak on it. For I decay, and so do my desires, while yours grow still upon you. Therefore, what may be spared from mine, I heartily give you to supply yours; 'tis but the just order of things. I scorn to hoard what I only now can gaze at, while your youth and person want those entertainments you may become and taste. All your just pleasures are mine also; in you my youth and gayer years methinks I feel repeated.
Y. Book Then what can give you, sir, uneasiness?
O. Book. Your affectation of a soldier's dress; makes me think you bent upon a dangerous though noble course; that you'll expose a life, that's dearer to your father than yourself, to daily hazards. I, therefore, have resolved to settle thee,[62] and chosen a young lady, witty, prudent, rich, and fair——
Y. Book. Oh, Victoria! [Aside.]—You cannot move too slowly in such a business.