A gallery in the Lord Touchwood's home, with chambers adjoining.
Enter CARELESS, crossing the stage, with his hat, gloves, and sword in his hands; as just risen from table: MELLEFONT following him.
MEL. Ned, Ned, whither so fast? What, turned flincher! Why, you wo' not leave us?
CARE. Where are the women? I'm weary of guzzling, and begin to think them the better company.
MEL. Then thy reason staggers, and thou'rt almost drunk.
CARE. No, faith, but your fools grow noisy; and if a man must endure the noise of words without sense, I think the women have more musical voices, and become nonsense better.
MEL. Why, they are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom, after dinner. But I made a pretence to follow you, because I had something to say to you in private, and I am not like to have many opportunities this evening.
CARE. And here's this coxcomb most critically come to interrupt you.
