Scene I.—Lord Foppington’s Lodgings.

Enter Lord Foppington, and La Varole.

Lord Fop. Hey, fellow, let my vis-à-vis come to the door.

La Var. Will your lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the weather?

Lord Fop. Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose myself to the ladies.

La Var. I wish your lordship would please to keep house a little longer; I’m afraid your honour does not well consider your wound.

Lord Fop. My wound!—I would not be in eclipse another day, though I had as many wounds in my body as I have had in my heart. So mind, Varole, let these cards be left as directed; for this evening I shall wait on my future father-in-law, Sir Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the lady, by giving an entertainment at her father’s expense; and hark thee, tell Mr. Loveless I request he and his company will honour me with their presence, or I shall think we are not friends.

La Var. I will be sure, milor.


Enter Tom Fashion.

Fash. Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself to-day?

Lord Fop. So well that I have ardered my coach to the door—so there’s no danger of death this baut, Tam.

Fash. I’m very glad of it.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] That I believe a lie.—[Aloud.] Pr’ythee, Tam, tell me one thing—did not your heart cut a caper up to your mauth, when you heard I was run through the bady?

Fash. Why do you think it should?

Lord Fop. Because I remember mine did so when I heard my uncle was shot through the head.

Fash. It, then, did very ill.

Lord Fop. Pr’ythee, why so?

Fash. Because he used you very well.

Lord Fop. Well!—Naw, strike me dumb! he starved me; he has let me want a thausand women for want of a thausand paund.

Fash. Then he hindered you from making a great many ill bargains; for I think no woman worth money that will take money.

Lord Fop. If I was a younger brother I should think so too.

Fash. Then you are seldom much in love?

Lord Fop. Never, stap my vitals!

  By PanEris using Melati.

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