Abs. Hark’ee, Sir Lucius; if I had not before known you to be a gentleman, upon my soul, I should not have discovered it at this interview: for what you can drive at, unless you mean to quarrel with me, I cannot conceive!

Sir Luc. I humbly thank you, sir, for the quickness of your apprehension.—[Bowing.] You have named the very thing I would be at.

Abs. Very well, sir; I shall certainly not balk your inclinations. —But I should be glad you would be pleased to explain your motives.

Sir Luc. Pray, sir, be easy; the quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands; we should only spoil it by trying to explain it. However, your memory is very short, or you could not have forgot an affront you passed on me within this week. So, no more, but name your time and place.

Abs. Well, sir, since you are so bent on it, the sooner the better; let it be this evening—here, by the Spring Gardens. We shall scarcely be interrupted.

Sir Luc. Faith! that same interruption in affairs of this nature shows very great ill-breeding. I don’t know what’s the reason, but in England if a thing of this kind gets wind, people make such a pother, that a gentleman can never fight in peace and quietness. However, if it’s the same to you, I should take it as a particular kindness if you’d let us meet in King’s-Mead-Fields, as a little business will call me there about six o’clock, and I may despatch both matters at once.

Abs. ’Tis the same to me exactly. A little after six, then, we will discuss this matter more seriously.

Sir Luc. If you please, sir; there will be very pretty small-sword light, though it won’t do for a long shot. So that matter’s settled, and my mind’s at ease!

[Exit.

Enter Faulkland.

Abs. Well met! I was going to look for you. O Faulkland! all the demons of spite and disappointment have conspired against me! I’m so vex’d, that if I had not the prospect of a resource in being knocked o’ the head by-and-by, I should scarce have spirits to tell you the cause.

Faulk. What can you mean?—Has Lydia changed her mind? —I should have thought her duty and inclination would now have pointed to the same object.

Abs. Ay, just as the eyes do of a person who squints: when her love-eye was fixed on me, t’other, her eye of duty, was finely obliqued: but when duty bid her point that the same way, off t’other turned on a swivel, and secured its retreat with a frown!

Faulk. But what’s the resource you—

Abs. Oh, to wind up the whole, a good-natured Irishman here has—[Mimicking Sir Lucius] begged leave to have the pleasure of cutting my throat; and I mean to indulge him—that’s all.

Faulk. Prithee, be serious!

Abs. ’Tis fact, upon my soul! Sir Lucius O’Trigger—you know him by sight—for some affront, which I am sure I never intended, has obliged me to meet him this evening at six o’clock: ’tis on that account I wished to see you; you must go with me.

Faulk. Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. Sir Lucius shall explain himself, and I dare say matters may be accommodated. But this evening did you say? I wish it had been any other time.