Will.
Prithee what Humor is he of, that you wish him so well? Belv. Why, of
an English Elder Brother's Humour, educated in a Nursery, with a Maid
to tend him till Fifteen, and lies with his Grand-mother till he's of
Age; one that knows no Pleasure beyond riding to the next Fair, or
going up to London with his right Worshipful Father in
Parliament-time; wearing gay Clothes, or making honourable Love to his
Lady Mother's Landry-Maid; gets drunk at a Hunting-Match, and ten to
one then gives some Proofs of his Prowess- A pox upon him, he's our
Banker, and has all our Cash about him, and if he fail we are all
broke. Fred. Oh let him alone for that matter, he's of a damn'd stingy
Quality, that will secure our Stock. I know not in what Danger it were
indeed, if the Jilt should pretend she's in love with him, for 'tis a
kind believing Coxcomb; otherwise if he part with more than a Piece of
Eight- geld him: for which offer he may chance to be beaten, if she be
a Whore of the first Rank. Belv. Nay the Rogue will not be easily
beaten, he's stout enough; perhaps if they talk beyond his Capacity,
he may chance to exercise his Courage upon some of them; else I'm sure
they'll find it as difficult to beat as to please him. Will. 'Tis a
lucky Devil to light upon so kind a Wench! Fred. Thou hadst a great
deal of talk with thy little Gipsy, coud'st thou do no good upon her?
for mine was hard-hearted.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34