Sir _Pat._ Marry _Lucretia_! is there no Woman in the City fit for you, but the Daughter of the most notorious fantastical Lady within the Walls? _Lean._ Yet that fantastical Lady you thought fit for a Wife for me, Sir. Sir _Pat._ Yes, Sir, Foppery with Money had been something; but a poor Fop, hang’t, ‘tis abominable. _Lean._ Pray hear me, Sir. Sir _Pat._ Sirrah, Sirrah, you’re a Jackanapes, ingenuously you are, Sir: marry _Lucretia_, quoth he? _Lean._ If it were so, Sir, where’s her fault? Sir _Pat._ Why, Mr. Coxcomb, all over. Did I with so much care endeavour to marry thee to the Mother, only to give thee opportunity with _Lucretia_? Enter Lady _Knowell_. _Lean._ This Anger shews your great Concern for me. Sir _Pat._ For my Name I am, but ‘twere no matter if thou wert hang’d, and thou deservest it for thy leud cavaliering Opinion.--They say thou art a Papist too, or at least a Church-of-_England_ Man, and I profess there’s not a Pin to chuse.--Marry _Lucretia_! L. _Kno._ Were I querimonious, I shou’d resent the Affront this _Balatroon_ has offer’d me. _Isab._ Dear Madam, for my sake do not anger him now. [Aside to her. L. _Kno._ Upon my Honour, you are very free with my Daughter, Sir. Sir _Pat._ How! she here! now for a Peal from her eternal Clapper; I had rather be confin’d to an Iron-mill. L. _Kno._ Sure _Lucretia_ merits a Husband of as much worth as your Nephew, Sir. Sir _Pat._ A better, Madam, for he’s the leudest Hector in the Town; he has all the Vices of Youth, Whoring, Swearing, Drinking, Damning, Fighting,--and a thousand more, numberless and nameless. L. _Kno._ Time, Sir, may make him more abstemious. Sir _Pat._ Oh, never, Madam! ‘tis in’s Nature, he was born with it, he’s given over to Reprobation, ‘tis bred i’th’ bone,--he’s lost. _Lean._ This is the first good Office that ever he did me. L. _Kno._ What think you, Sir, if in defiance of your Inurbanity, I take him with all these Faults my self? Sir _Pat._ How, Madam! L. _Kno._ Without more Ambages, Sir, I have consider’d your former Desires, and have consented to marry him, notwithstanding your Exprobrations. Sir _Pat._ May I believe this, Madam? and has your Ladyship that Goodness?--and hast thou, my Boy, so much Wit? Why, this is something now.--Well, he was ever the best and sweetest-natur’d Youth.--Why, what a notable Wag’s this? and is it true, my Boy, hah? _Lean._ Yes, Sir, I had told you so before, had you permitted me to speak.