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Dance.
Sir Toby. Very fine, extreamly fine—Mr. Bellamour and I, Madam, met at the Door, having both the same Design of waiting on your Ladyship. Sir Toby says he, be pleased to go before, I wait on you: Mr. Bellamour, says I, after you is Manners. Pray, Sir, says he, give me leave; by no means, Sir, said I again: And then said he, and then said I, till at last, begad, we both came in together, and Adzookers, I have almost Squeez'd off the bottom of my Belly—Pox of Complements and strait Doors.
Ang. aside. Now aid me all the Arts of Woman-kind, Revenge and Jealousie, till I have vext the Traytor's Heart, as he has abus'd mine.
I wonder, Sir Toby, you shou'd be so Ceremonious, with one to whom you ought to be a sworn Enemy. I cannot with Patience suffer my Friend to be wrong'd, and therefore think my self oblig'd to acquaint you, that this Gentleman has injur'd you.
Bel. softly to him. Hark ye, Sir———
Ang. No, no, all shall out, unless you ingage before all this Company, to make Reparation for the future,
Sir-Toby. Hey Day! Why he never did me any injury. Adzooks, my little Ganimea's in the Clouds.
Ang. I'll tell you then in short———
Bell. softly. Hold, or by Heaven———
Ang. Nay, no threats nor no Whispering. This Gentleman, Sir Toby, some time since, made pretensions to your Daughter, as now Madam, he does to your Neice; but not Pretensions that were dishonourable, but confirm'd by Vows and Oaths, till she yielded, at last, to be privately Contracted.
L. Dor. How! Contracted!
Luc. Base Man.
Bell. Pray harken not to what he says; this is the strangest Extravagance.
Bel. No, no, pray let's hear all.
Bell. to Ang. Damme, Sir, this Fooling shan't pass—a word with you.
