Sir Dav. Now, sir, with your permission I'll take my leave.
Beau. Sir, if you were gone to the devil I should think you very well disposed of.
Sir Dav. If you have any letter, or other commendation to the lady that was so charmed with your resemblance there, it shall be very faithfully conveyed by—
Beau. Fool!
Sir Dav. Your humble servant. Sir, I'm gone; I shall disturb you no further; your most humble servant, sir. [Exit.
Beau. Now poverty, plague, pox, and prison fall thick upon the head of thee!—Fourbin!
Four. Sir!
Beau. Thou hast been an extraordinary rogue in thy time.
Four. I hope I have lost nothing in your honour's service, sir.
Beau. Find out some way to revenge me on this old rascal, and if I do not make thee a gentleman—