Sir _Pat._ Sir, you have no Place, Office, Dependance or Attendance at Court, I hope? _Wit._ None, Sir,--Wou’d I had--so you were hang’d. [Aside. L. _Fan._ Nay, Sir, you may believe, I knew his Capacities and Abilities before I would encourage his Addresses. Sir _Pat._ My Lady _Fancy_, you are a discreet Lady;--Well, I’ll marry her out of hand, to prevent Mr. _Lodwick’s_ hopes: for though the young man may deserve well, that Mother of his I’ll have nothing to do with, since she refused to marry my Nephew. [Aside. Enter _Fanny_. _Fan._ Sir Father, here’s my Lady _Knowell_, and her Family come to see you. Sir _Pat._ How! her whole Family! I am come to keep open House; very fine, her whole Family! she’s Plague enough to mortify any good Christian,--Tell her, my Lady and I am gone forth; tell her any thing to keep her away. _Fan._ Shou’d I tell a lye, Sir Father, and to a Lady of her Quality? Sir _Pat._ Her Quality and she are a Couple of Impertinent things, which are very troublesome, and not to be indur’d I take it. _Fan._ Sir, we shou’d bear with things we do not love sometimes, ‘tis a sort of Trial, Sir, a kind of Mortification fit for a good Christian. Sir _Pat._ Why, what a notable talking Baggage is this! How came you by this Doctrine? _Fan._ I remember, Sir, you preach’d it once to my Sister, when the old Alderman was the Text, whom you exhorted her to marry, but the wicked Creature made ill use on’t. Sir _Pat._ Go your way for a prating Huswife, go, and call your Sister hither. [Exit _Fanny_.] --Well, I’m resolv’d to leave this Town, nay, and the World too, rather than be tormented thus. L. _Fan._ What’s the matter, Dear, thou dost so fret thy self? Sir _Pat._ The matter! my House, my House is besieged with Impertinence; the intolerable Lady, Madam _Romance_, that walking Library of profane Books is come to visit me. L. _Fan._ My Lady _Knowell_? Sir _Pat._ Yes, that Lady of eternal Noise and hard Words. L. _Fan._ Indeed ‘tis with pain I am oblig’d to be civil to her, but I consider her Quality, her Husband was too an Alderman, your Friend, and a great Ay and No Man i’ th’ City, and a painful Promoter of the good Cause. Sir _Pat._ But she’s a Fop, my Lady _Fancy_, and ever was so, an idle conceited she Fop; and has Vanity and Tongue enough to debauch any Nation under civil Government: but, Patience, thou art a Virtue, and Affliction will come.--Ah, I’m very sick, alas, I have not long to dwell amongst the Wicked, Oh, oh.--_Roger_, is the Doctor come? Enter _Roger_. _Rog._ No, Sir, but he has sent you a small draught of a Pint, which you are to take, and move upon’t. Sir _Pat._ Ah,--Well, I’ll in and take it;--Ah--Sir, I crave your Patience for a moment, for I design you shall see my Daughter, I’ll not make long work on’t, Sir: alas, I would dispose of her before I die: Ah,--I’ll bring her to you, Sir, Ah, Ah.-- [Goes out with _Roger_.