Sir _Tun._ Is it then possible that this shou'd be the true Lord _Foppington_ at last? _Lord Fop._ Why what do you see in his Face to make you doubt of it? Sir, without presuming to have any extraordinary Opinion of my Figure, give me leave to tell you, if you had seen as many Lords as I have done, you would not think it impossible a Person of a worse _Taille_ than mine, might be a modern Man of Quality. Sir _Tun._ Unbind him, Slaves: my Lord, I'm struck dumb, I can only beg Pardon by Signs; but if a Sacrifice will appease you, you shall have it. Here, pursue this _Tartar_, bring him back----Away, I say, a Dog, Oons----I'll cut off his Ears and his Tail, I'll draw out all his Teeth, pull his skin over his Head----and----what shall I do more? Sir _John._ He does indeed deserve to be made an Example of. _Lord Fop._ He does deserve to be _chartrè_, stap my Vitals. Sir _Tun._ May I then hope I have your Honour's Pardon? _Lord Fop._ Sir, we Courtiers do nothing without a Bribe; that fair young Lady might do Miracles. Sir _Tun._ _Hoyden_, come hither, _Hoyden_. _Lord Fop._ _Hoyden_ is her Name, Sir? Sir _Tun._ Yes, my Lord. _Lord Fop._ The prettiest Name for a Song I ever heard. Sir _Tun._ My Lord----here's my Girl, she's yours, she has a wholesome Body, and virtuous Mind; she's a Woman complete, both in Flesh and in Spirit; she has a Bag of mill'd Crowns, as scarce as they are, and fifteen hundred a-year flitch'd fast to her Tail: so go thy ways, _Hoyden_. _Lord Fop._ Sir, I do receive her like a Gentleman. Sir _Tun._ Then I'm a happy Man, I bless Heaven, and if your Lordship will give me leave, I will, like a good Christian at _Christmas_, be very drunk by way of Thanksgiving. Come, my noble Peer, I believe Dinner's ready; if your Honour pleases to follow me, I'll lead you on to the Attack of a Venison Pasty. [_Exit Sir ~Tun.~_ _Lord Fop._ Sir, I wait upon you: Will your Ladyship do me the favour of your little Finger, Madam? _Miss._ My Lord, I'll follow you presently. I have a little Business with my Nurse. _Lord Fop._ Your Ladyship's most humble Servant; come, Sir _John_, the Ladies have _des Affaires_. [_Exeunt ~Lord Fop~. and Sir ~John~._ _Miss._ So, Nurse, we are finely brought to bed! What shall we do now? _Nurse._ Ah, dear Miss, we are all undone! Mr. _Bull_, you were us'd to help a Woman to a Remedy. [_Crying._ _Bull._ A lack a-day, but it's past my Skill now, I can do nothing. _Nurse._ Who wou'd have thought that ever your Invention shou'd have been drain'd so dry? _Miss._ Well, I have often thought old Folks Fools, and now I'm sure they are so; I have found a way myself to secure us all. _Nurse._ Dear Lady, what's that? _Miss._ Why, if you two will be sure to hold your Tongues, and not say a word of what's past, I'll e'en marry this Lord too.