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Sir Toby. The Orange Women swear they'll pull you to pieces, since a Note in a Tea-Pot is found more secure, than at the bottom of a Basket of Fruit.
Ind. Women. That's your Worship's quarrel to us: you'd have no body seduc'd but by your self—Pray, Madam, bid Mrs. Plackett pay us.
Lad. Dor. Give them their money—But hark' ye, Mrs. Jannoway, for the future, be sure you bring me right Indian, I abominate your Dutch Trumpery.
Ind. Women. God bless your Honour, we will Madam.
Lady Dor. Bring Sir Toby a Chair—and wait within call.[Sir Toby sits, then speaks.
Sir Toby. Your Piquette Friend will be here instantly, Madam, according to your direction: He is already so charm'd with your Ladyship, that if you are not merciful in time, his heart will break, quite break; poor thing, he is just at the point of death.
Lad. Dor. 'Tis much for a Lady's Honour to have a Lover die.
Sir Toby. True, Madam; but then let those die you don't care for: Tho' it may be for your Glory to triumph over some, yet for your Pleasure you shou'd be kind to others—And this is the prettiest loving little Rogue—Adzooks 'twere a thousand Pities to let him come to any harm.
Lad. Dor. But suppose he shou'd be one of those modest Fools, (for he is very young, Sir Toby) who tho they are never so much in Love, yet have not the courage to speak out their minds.
Sir Toby. Why suppose he shou'd, why then you must take some opportunity to squeeze him by the hand; or by some sly Insinuation with your eyes, inform him that he need fear nothing. Or what if you shou'd speak first, is any thing more common? Besides, when Women through Decency, as they call it, are silent; and Men through fear, how the Devil shall they ever come together? If you observe your Spark to be bold and undertaking, then indeed you may seem shy; but if he is timorous, and under any awe, you must do something to give
