L. Flip. What unmannerly rascals are those that bring light into the Park? 'twill not be taken well from 'em by the women, certainly.—[Aside.] Still disappointed!
Sir Sim. Oh, the fiddles, the fiddles! I sent for them hither to oblige the women, not to offend 'em; for I intend to serenade the whole Park to-night. But my frolic is not without an intrigue, faith and troth: for I know the fiddles will call the whole herd of vizard masks together; and then shall I discover if a strayed mistress of mine be not amongst 'em, whom I treated to-night at the French-house; but as soon as the jilt had eat up my meat and drunk her two bottles, she ran away from me, and left me alone.
L. Flip. How! is it he? Addleplot!—that I could not know him by his faith and troth! [Aside.
Sir Sim. Now I would understand her tricks; because I intend to marry her, and should be glad to know what I must trust to.
L. Flip. So thou shalt;—but not yet. [Aside.
Sir Sim. Though I can give a great guess already; for if I have any intrigue or sense in me, she is as arrant a jilt as ever pulled pillow from under husband's head, faith and troth. Moreover she is bow-legged, hopper-hipped, and, betwixt pomatum and Spanish red, has a complexion like a Holland cheese, and no more teeth left than such as give a haut goût to her breath; but she is rich, faith and troth.
L. Flip. [Aside.] Oh rascal! he has heard somebody else say all this of me. But I must not discover myself, lest I should be disappointed of my revenge; for I will marry him. [The Musicians approaching, exit Flippant.
Sir Sim. What, gone!—come then, strike up, my lads.
Enter Men and Women in vizards—a Dance, during which Sir Simon Addleplot, for the most part, stands still in a cloak and vizard; but sometimes goes about peeping, and examining the Women's clothes—the Dance ended, all exeunt.