Myrt. 'Tis prudently and generously resolved—Is this the young thing?
Cimb. Yes, sir.
Phil. Good madam, don't be out of humour, but let them run to the utmost of their extravagance.—Hear them out. [To Luc.
Myrt. Can't I see her nearer? My eyes are but weak.
Phil. Beside, I am sure the uncle has something worth your notice. I'll take care to get off the young one, and leave you to observe what may be wrought out of the old one for your good. [To Luc. Exit.
Cimb. Madam, this old gentleman, your great uncle, desires to be introduced to you, and to see you nearer!—Approach, sir.
Myrt. By your leave, young lady. [Puts on spectacles.]—Cousin Cimberton! She has exactly that sort of neck and bosom for which my sister Gertrude was so much admired in the year sixty-one, before the French dresses first discovered anything in women below the chin.
Luc. [Aside.] What a very odd situation am I in! though I cannot but be diverted at the extravagance of their humours, equally unsuitable to their age—Chin, quotha—I don't believe my passionate lover there knows whether I have one or not. Ha! ha!
Myrt. Madam, I would not willingly offend, but I have a better glass. [Pulls out a large one.
Enter Phillis.