Sir Sim. Then you shall see when I am Sir Simon Addleplot and myself I'll look like myself; now I am Jonas, I look like an ass. You never thought Sir Simon Addleplot could have looked so like an ass by his ingenuity.
Mrs. Joyn. Pardon me, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim. Nay, do not flatter, faith and troth.
Mrs. Joyn. Come let us go, 'tis time.
Sir Sim. I will carry the widow to the French house.
Mrs. Joyn. If she will go.
Sir Sim. If she will go! why, did you ever know a widow refuse a treat? no more than a lawyer a fee, faith and troth: yet I know too—
No treat, sweet words, good mien, but sly intrigue
That must at length the jilting widow fegue.[28] [Exeunt.