Did not old Mrs. Mumblecake tell me the other day, how you ran nine times to the apothecary's to fetch green salve to rub her monkey's tail.
Sir Loft. She told you a damn'd lie then! (Biting his lip, and, walking up and down with hasty strides.) Damn it! this is beyond all bearing! I run nine times to the apothecary's to fetch green salve for her monkey's tail! If the cursed hag says so again I'll bury her alive!
Mar. Nay, dont be angry about it. I'm sure I thought it very good in you, and I said so to every body.
Sir Loft. You have been so obliging as tell all the world too?
Mar. And why should not I have the pleasure of praising you?
Sir Loft. Hell and the devil! (Turning on his heel, and striding up and down, and muttering as he goes, whilst she sits carelessly with her arms crossed.)
Mar. My good Sir Loftus, you will tire yourself. Had you not better be seated?
Sir Loft. (Endeavouring to compose himself.) The influence you have over me, ma'am, gets the better of every thing. I would not have you mistake my character, however; if love engages me in your service you ought to receive it so. I have been less profuse of these attentions to women of the very first rank and fashion; I might therefore have hoped that you would lend a more favourable ear to my passion.
Mar. Indeed you wrong me. You dont know