TOM FASHION. Ouns! if you can’t live upon ten thousand a year, how do you think I should do’t upon two hundred? LORD FOPPINGTON. Don’t be in a passion, Tam, for passion is the most unbecoming thing in the waurld—to the face. Look you, I don’t love to say anything to you to make you melancholy, but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind that a running horse does require more attendance than a coach-horse. Nature has made some difference twixt you and me. TOM FASHION. Yes—she has made you older.—[_Aside_.] Plague take her. LORD FOPPINGTON. That is not all, Tam. TOM FASHION. Why, what is there else? LORD FOPPINGTON. [_Looks first on himself and then on his brother_.] Ask the ladies. TOM FASHION. Why, thou essence-bottle, thou musk-cat! dost thou then think thou hast any advantage over me but what Fortune has given thee? LORD FOPPINGTON. I do, stap my vitals! TOM FASHION. Now, by all that’s great and powerful, thou art the prince of coxcombs! LORD FOPPINGTON. Sir, I am proud at being at the head of so prevailing a party. TOM FASHION. Will nothing provoke thee?—Draw, coward! LORD FOPPINGTON. Look you, Tam, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull fellow, and here is one of the foolishest plats broke out that I have seen a lang time. Your poverty makes life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a quarrel, in hopes either to slip through my lungs into my estate, or to get yourself run through the guts, to put an end to your pain. But I will disappoint you in both your designs; far, with the temper of a philasapher, and the discretion of a statesman—I shall leave the room with my sword in the scabbard. [_Exit_.] TOM FASHION. So! farewell, brother; and now, conscience, I defy thee. Lory! _Enter_ LORY. LORY. Sir! TOM FASHION. Here’s rare news, Lory; his lordship has given me a pill has purged off all my scruples. LORY. Then my heart’s at ease again: for I have been in a lamentable fright, sir, ever since your conscience had the impudence to intrude into your company. TOM FASHION. Be at peace; it will come there no more: my brother has given it a wring by the nose, and I have kicked it downstairs. So run away to the inn, get the chaise ready quickly, and bring it to Dame Coupler’s without a moment’s delay. LORY. Then, sir, you are going straight about the fortune? TOM FASHION. I am.—Away—fly, Lory! LORY. The happiest day I ever saw. I’m upon the wing already. Now then I shall get my wages. [_Exeunt_.] SCENE II.—_A Garden behind_ LOVELESS’S _Lodgings. Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ SERVANT. LOVELESS. Is my wife within? SERVANT. No, sir, she has gone out this half-hour. LOVELESS. Well, leave me.—[_Exit_ SERVANT.] How strangely does my mind run on this widow!—Never was my heart so suddenly seized on before. That my wife should pick out her, of all womankind, to be her playfellow! But what fate does, let fate answer for: I sought it not. So! by Heavens! here she comes. _Enter_ BERINTHIA.