The Inconstant. George Farquhar

dog, d'ye banter me? – Come, sir, take your choice. – Duretete, you shall have your choice too, but Robin shall chuse first. – Come, sir, begin. Well! which d'ye like?

      Y. Mir. Both.

      Old Mir. But which will you marry?

      Y. Mir. Neither.

      Old Mir. Neither! Don't make me angry now, Bob – pray, don't make me angry. – Lookye, sirrah, if I don't dance at your wedding to-morrow, I shall be very glad to cry at your grave.

      Y. Mir. That's a bull, father.

      Old Mir. A bull! Why, how now, ungrateful sir, did I make thee a man, that thou shouldst make me a beast?

      Y. Mir. Your pardon, sir; I only meant your expression.

      Old Mir. Harkye, Bob, learn better manners to your father before strangers! I won't be angry this time: But oons, if ever you do't again, you rascal! – remember what I say.[Exit.

      Y. Mir. Pshaw! what does the old fellow mean by mewing me up here with a couple of green girls? – Come, Duretete, will you go?

      Oriana. I hope, Mr. Mirabel, you han't forgot —

      Y. Mir. No, no, madam, I han't forgot, I have brought you a thousand little Italian curiosities; I'll assure you, madam, as far as a hundred pistoles would reach, I han't forgot the least circumstance.

      Oriana. Sir, you misunderstand me.

      Y. Mir. Odso! the relics, madam, from Rome. I do remember, now, you made a vow of chastity before my departure; a vow of chastity, or something like it – was it not, madam?

      Oriana. O sir, I'm answered at present.[Exit.

      Y. Mir. She was coming full mouth upon me with her contract – 'Would I might despatch t'other!

      Dur. Mirabel, that lady there, observe her, she's wondrous pretty, 'faith! and seems to have but few words; I like her mainly – speak to her, man, pr'ythee speak to her.

      Y. Mir. Madam, here's a gentleman, who declares —

      Dur. Madam, don't believe him, I declare nothing – What, the devil, do you mean, man?

      Y. Mir. He says, madam, that you are as beautiful as an angel.

      Dur. He tells a damned lie, madam! I say no such thing – Are you mad, Mirabel? Why, I shall drop down with shame.