The Old Debauchees. A Comedy. Henry Fielding
Sir! I am merry, Sir. Would you have your Father sad, you Rascal? Have you a mind to bury him in his Youth?
Yo. Lar. Pardon me, Sir, I rather wished to know the happy Occasion of your Mirth.
Old Lar. The Occasion of my Mirth, Sir, is the saddest Sight that ever Mortal beheld.
Yo. Lar. A very odd Occasion indeed.
Old Lar. Very odd truly. It is the Sight of an old honest Whoremaster in a Fit of Despair, and a damned Rogue of a Priest riding him to the Devil.
Yo. Lar. Ay, Sir, but I have seen a more melancholy Sight.
Old Lar. Ha! what can that be?
Yo. Lar. A fine young Lady in a Fit of Love, and a Priest keeping her from her Lover.
Old Lar. How?
Yo. Lar. The Explanation of which is, that Father Martin hath put off our Match for a Week.
Old. Lar. Put off your Match with Isabel!
Yo. Lar. Even so, Sir.
Old Lar. Well I never have made a Hole in a Gown yet, I never have tapped a Priest: but if I don't let out some reverend Blood before the Sun sets, may I never See him rise again. I'll carbonade the Villain, I'll make a Ragout for the Devil's Supper of him.
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