Volume I Part 87 (2/2)

_Serv._ Your servant, Sir, you come indeed like a Bridegroom all beset with Dance and Fiddle.

_Hau._ Bridegroom! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, _Gload_? 'tis true faith. But how the Devil came he to know it, man, hah?

_Serv._ My Master, Sir, was just asking for you, he longs to speak with you.

_Hau._ Ha, ha, with me, Sir? why, ha, ha, who the pox am I?

_Serv._ You, Sir, why, who should you be?

_Hau._ Who should I be? why, who should I be?

_Serv._ _Myn heer Haunce van Ezel_, Sir.

_Hau._ Ha, ha, ha, well guest, i'faith now.

_Glo._ Why how should they guess otherwise, coming so attended with Musick, as prepar'd for a Wedding?

_Hau._ Ha, ha, ha, say'st thou so? faith, 'tis a good Device to save the Charges of the first Compliments, hah: but hark ye, hark ye, Friend, are you sure this is the House of Don _Carlo_?

_Serv._ Why, Sir, have you forgot it?

_Hau._ Forgot it! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, _Gload_? forgot it! why how the Devil should I remember it?

_Glo._ Sir, I believe this is some new-fas.h.i.+on'd Civility in Spain, to know every Man before he sees him.

_Hau._ No, no, you fool, they never change their Fas.h.i.+on in Spain, Man.

_Glo._ I mean their manner of Address, Sir.

_Hau._ It may be so, I'll see farther. Friend, is Don _Carlo_ within?

_Serv._ He has not been out since, Sir.

_Hau._ Since, ha, ha, ha, since when? hah.

_Serv._ Since you saw him, Sir.

_Hau._ _Salerimente_, will you make me mad? why you d.a.m.nable Rascal, when did I see him? hah.

_Serv._ Here comes my Master himself, Sir, [Enter _Carlo_.] let him inform you, if you grow so hot upon the Question.

_Car._ How now, Son, what, angry? You have e'en tir'd your self with walking, and are out of Humour.

_Hau._ Look there again-- the old Man's mad too; why how the pox should he know I have been walking? Indeed, Sir, I have, as you say, been walking [Playing with his Hat.] --and am-- as you say, out of Humour-- But under favour, Sir, who are you? Sure 'tis the old Conjurer, and those were his little Imps I met.

[Surlily to him.

_Car._ Sure, Son, you should be a Wit, by the shortness of your Memory.

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