_Lord Fop._ Dear _Loveless_----Adieu. If I die----I forgive thee; and if I live----I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am very sorry you and I shou'd quarrel; but I hope here's an end on't, for if you are satisfy'd----I am. _Lov._ I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any farther, so you may be at rest, Sir. _Lord Fop._ Thou art a generous Fellow, strike me dumb. [_Aside._] But thou hast an impertinent Wife, stap my Vitals. _Syr._ So, carry him off, carry him off, we shall have him prate himself into a Fever by and by; carry him off. [_Ex. ~Serv.~ with ~L. Fop~._ _Aman._ Now on my Knees, my Dear, let me ask your pardon for my Indiscretion, my own I never shall obtain. _Lov._ Oh, there's no harm done: You serv'd him well. _Aman._ He did indeed deserve it. But I tremble to think how dear my indiscreet Resentment might have cost you. _Lov._ O, no matter; never trouble yourself about that. _Ber._ For Heaven's sake, what was't he did to you? _Aman._ O nothing; he only squeez'd me kindly by the Hand, and frankly offer'd me a Coxcomb's Heart. I know I was to blame to resent it as I did, since nothing but a Quarrel could ensue. But the Fool so surpriz'd me with his Insolence, I was not Mistress of my Fingers. _Ber._ Now I dare swear, he thinks you had 'em at great Command, they obey'd you so readily. _Enter ~Worthy~._ _Wor._ Save you, save you, good People; I'm glad to find you all alive; I met a wounded Peer carrying off. For Heav'ns sake, what was the matter? _Lov._ O, a Trifle: He would have lain with my Wife before my Face, so she oblig'd him with a Box o'the Ear, and I run him thro' the Body: That was all. _Wor._ _Bagatelle_ on all sides. But, pray, Madam, how long has this noble Lord been an humble Servant of yours? _Aman._ This is the first I have heard on't. So I suppose 'tis his Quality, more than his Love, has brought him into this Adventure. He thinks his Title an authentick Passport to every Woman's Heart, below the Degree of a Peeress. _Wor._ He's Coxcomb enough to think any thing. But I wou'd not have you brought into Trouble for him: I hope there's no Danger of his Life? _Lov._ None at all: He's fallen into the Hands of a roguish Surgeon, who I perceive designs to frighten a little Money out of him. But I saw his Wound, 'tis nothing; he may go to the Play to-night, if he pleases. _Wor._ I'm glad you have corrected him without farther Mischief. And now, Sir, if these Ladies have no farther Service for you, you'll oblige me if you can go to the Place I spoke to you of t'other Day. _Lov._ With all my Heart. [_Aside._] Tho' I cou'd wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that Creature. Good God! How beautiful she is!--But what have I to do with Beauty? I have already had my Portion, and must not covet more. Come, Sir, when you please. [_To_ Wor.