MUSICIANS.
GORG. Ah! you hussies, you have put us in a nice pickle, by what I can
see; I have heard about your fine goings on from those two gentlemen who
just left.
MAD. Ah, father! they have played us a cruel trick.
GORG. Yes, it is a cruel trick, but you may thank your own impertinence
for it, you jades. They have revenged themselves for the way you treated
them; and yet, unhappy man that I am, I must put up with the affront.
MAD. Ah! I swear we will be revenged, or I shall die in the attempt. And
you, rascals, dare you remain here after your insolence?
MASC. Do you treat a marquis in this manner? This is the way of the
world; the least misfortune causes us to be slighted by those who before
caressed us. Come along, brother, let us go and seek our fortune
somewhere else; I perceive they love nothing here but outward show, and
have no regard for worth unadorned. (_They both leave_).