CARE. Then I shall be disappointed indeed.
MEL. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obstinately bent not to be instructed.
BRISK. I’m sorry for him, the deuce take me.
MEL. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord?
LORD FROTH. With all my heart; methinks we are a solitude without ’em.
MEL. Or what say you to another bottle of champagne?
LORD FROTH. Oh, for the universe not a drop more, I beseech you. Oh, intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already. [Takes out a pocket-glass and looks in it.]
BRISK. Let me see, let me see, my lord, I broke my glass that was in the lid of my snuff-box. Hum! Deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple here too. [Takes the glass and looks.]
LORD FROTH. Then you must mortify him with a patch; my wife shall supply you. Come, gentlemen, allons, here is company coming.