) why, there comes a Challenge upon it,
and ten to one some body or other is run through the Gills; why, a Pox
on't, I say, this is very damnable, give me Poet's Licence.--

L. _Fan._ Take him off in pity. [To _Leander_.

_Lod._ Indeed Railing is a Coin only current among the Poets, Sir
_Credulous_.

Sir _Pat._ Oh blest Deliverance!--what a profane Wretch is here, and
what a leud World we live in--Oh _London_, _London_, how thou aboundest
in Iniquity! thy young Men are debauch'd, thy Virgins defloured, and thy
Matrons all turn'd Bauds! My Lady _Fancy_, this is not Company for you,
I take it, let us fly from this vexation of Spirit, on the never-failing
Wings of Discretion.--
[Going to lead Lady _Fancy_ off,--the Lady _Knowell_ speaking to
_Isabella_ all this while.

L. _Kno._ How! marry thee to such a Fop, say'st thou? Oh egregious!--as
thou lovest _Lodwick_, let him not know his Name, it will be dangerous,
let me alone to evade it.

_Isab._ I know his fiery Temper too well to trust him with the secret.

L. _Kno._ Hark ye, Sir, and do you intend to do this horrible thing?--

Sir _Pat._ What thing, my Lady _Knowell_?

L. _Kno._ Why, to marry your Daughter, Sir.

Sir _Pat._ Yes, Madam.

L. _Kno._ To a beastly Town Fool? _Monstrum horrendum!_

Sir _Pat._ To any Fool, except a Fool of your Race, of your
Generation.--

L. _Kno._ How! a Fool of my Race, my Generation! I know thou meanest my
Son, thou contumelious Knight, who, let me tell thee, shall marry thy
Daughter _invito te_, that is, (to inform thy obtuse Understanding) in
spite of thee; yes, shall marry her, though she inherits nothing but thy
dull Enthusiasms, which had she been legitimate she had been possest
with.

Sir _Pat._ Oh abominable! you had best say she is none of my Daughter,
and that I was a Cuckold.--

L. _Kno._ If I should, Sir, it would not amount to _Scandalum Magnatum_:
I'll tell thee more, thy whole Pedigree,--and yet for all this,
_Lodwick_ shall marry your Daughter, and yet I'll have none of your
Nephew.

Sir _Pat._ Shall he so, my Lady _Knowell_? I shall go near to out-trick
your Ladyship, for all your politick Learning. 'Tis past the Canonical
Hour, as they call it, or I wou'd marry my Daughter instantly; I profess
we ne'er had good days since these Canonical Fopperies came up again,
mere Popish Tricks to give our Children time for Disobedience,--the next
Justice wou'd ha' serv'd turn, and have done the Business at