Nick. Mrs. Lovejoy, and I, Madam, a very good Jest i'faith.
L. Rod. But you must believe, you're really marry'd, or how shall I discover the true Air of it?
Nick. But, Madam, is not believing what one knows to be false, somewhat like a Tradegy Actress; who while she's playing a Queen or Empress, is full as haughty, and thinks her self as great.
L. Rod. Oh! a strong faith often deprives People of their Senses.
Nick. Nay, Madam, I have frequently told monstrous Stories, 'till I ha' believ'd 'em my self.
L. Rod. We'll step into the next Room, I have a Fellow too that has the best Puritanical Face you ever saw; but the Society o'the Livery has secur'd him from ever being a Saint. [Exeunt
SCENE, Lady Tossup's.
Enter Lady Tossup, and Mrs. Flimsy.
Flim. Madam, the Major desires the Honour of kissing your Ladyship's Hands.
L. Toss. The Major, Flimsy! What Major? Major Bramble; What business can the Major have with me?