Blunt. What a Pox, art thou
afraid of a Woman- Feth. Not of a Woman, Ned, but of a She Gargantua,
I am of a Hercules in Petticoats. Blunt. The less Resemblance the
better. 'Shartlikins, I'd rather mine were a Centaur than a Woman: No,
since my Naples Adventure, I am clearly for your Monster. Feth.
Prithee, Ned, there's Reason in all things- Blunt. But villainous
Woman- 'Dshartlikins, stand your Ground, or I'll nail you to't: Why,
what a Pox are you so quezy stomach'd, a Monster won't down with you,
with a hundred thousand Pound to boot. [Pulling him. Feth. Nay, Ned,
that mollifies something; and I scorn it should be said of Nich.
Fetherfool that he left his Friend in danger, or did an ill thing:
therefore, as thou say'st, Ned, tho she were a Centaur, I'll not budg
an Inch. Blunt. Why God a Mercy. Enter the Giant and Dwarf, with them
Shift as an Operator, and Harlequin attending. Feth. Oh- they come-
Prithee, Ned, advance- [Puts him forward. Shift. Most beautiful
Ladies. Feth. Why, what a flattering Son of a Whore's this? Shift.
These are the illustrious Persons your Uncle designs your humble
Servants, and who have so extraordinary a Passion for your
Seignioraships. Feth. Oh yes, a most damnable one: Wou'd I were
cleanlily off the Lay, and had my Money again. Blunt. Think of a
Million, Rogue, and do not hang an Arse thus.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174