Har. He’s a man made up of forms and common places sucked out of the remaining lees of the last age.

Lady Wood. He’s so good a man, that were you not engaged—

Lady Town You’ll have but little night to sleep in.

Lady Wood. Lord! ’tis perfect day—

Dor. [aside]. The hour is almost come I appointed Belinda, and I am not so foppishly in love here to forget: I am flesh and blood yet.

Lady Town. I am very sensible, madam.

Lady Wood. Lord, madam!

Har. Look, in what struggle is my poor mother yonder?

Y. Bell. She has much ado to bring out the compliment.

Dor. She strains hard for it.

Har. See, see! her head tottering, her eyes staring, and her under lip trembling

Dor. [aside] Now, now she’s in the very convulsions of her civility. ’Sdeath, I shall lose Belinda. I must fright her hence; she’ll be an hour in this fit of good manners else. [To Lady WOODVIL.] Do you not know Sir Fopling, madam?

Lady Wood. I have seen that face Oh, heaven! ’tis the same we met in the Mall; how came he here?

Dor. A fiddle in this town is a kind of fop-call; no sooner it strikes up but the house is besieged with an army of masquerades straight.

Lady Wood. Lord! I tremble, Mr. Courtage; for certain Dorimant is in the company.

Dor. I cannot confidently say he is not; you had best begone. I will wait upon you; your daughter is in the hands of Mr. Bellair.

Lady Wood. I’ll see her before me. Harriet, come away

Y. Bell. Lights! lights!

Lady Town. Light down there.

O. Bell. Adod, it needs not

Dor. Call my Lady Woodvil’s coach to the door quickly.

[Exeunt DORIMANT and YOUNG BELLAIR, with the Ladies.

O. Bell. Stay, Mr. Medley, let the young fellows do that duty; we will drink a glass of wine together. ’Tis good after dancing; what mumming spark is that?

Med. He is not to be comprehended in few words.

Sir Fop. Hey! La Tour.