The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

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L. _Gal_. I'll die first--Hah, he's going! Yet now I think on't I have a
Toy of his, which to express my scorn, I'll give him back now--this Ring.

_Clos_. Shall I carry it, Madam?

L. _Gal_. You'll not express Disdain enough in the Delivery; and you may
call him back.

[Clos. _goes to_ Wild.

Sir _Char_. By Heaven, she's fond of him. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. Oh, Mrs. Closet! is it you?--Madam, your Servant: By this
Disdain, I fear your Woman, Madam, has mistaken her Man. Wou'd your
Ladyship speak with me?

L. _Gal_. Yes.--But what? the God of Love instruct me. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. Command me quickly, Madam; for I have business.

L. _Gal_. Nay, then I cannot be discreet in Love. [_Aside_.
--Your business once was Love, nor had no idle hours
To throw away on any other thought;
You lov'd, as if you had no other Faculties,
As if you'd meant to gain eternal Bliss,
By that Devotion only: And see how now you're chang'd.

_Wild_. Not I, by Heaven; 'tis you are only chang'd.
I thought you'd lov'd me too, curse on the dull mistake!
But when I beg'd to reap the mighty Joy
That mutual Love affords,
You turn'd me off from Honour,
That Nothing, fram'd by some old sullen Maid,
That wanted Charms to kindle Flames when young.

Sir _Anth_. By George, he's i'th' right. [_Aside_.

Sir _Char_. Death! can she hear this Language? [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. How dare you name this to me any more?
Have you forgot my Fortune, and my Youth,
My Quality, and Fame?

_Wild_. No, by Heaven, all these increase my Flame.

L. _Gal_. Perhaps they might, but yet I wonder where
You got the boldness to approach me with it.

_Wild_. Faith, Madam, from your own encouragement.

L. _Gal_. From mine! Heavens, what Contempt is this?

_Wild_. When first I paid my Vows, (good Heaven forgive me)
They were for Honour all;
But wiser you, thanks to your Mother's care too,
Knowing my Fortune an uncertain hope,
My Life of Scandal, and my leud Opinion,
Forbad me wish that way; 'twas kindly urg'd;
You cou'd not then forbid my Passion too,
Nor did I ever from your Lips or Eyes
Receive the cruel Sentence of my Death.

Sir _Anth_. Gad, a fine Fellow this!

L. _Gal_. To save my Life, I wou'd not marry thee.

_Wild_. That's kindly said.
But to save mine, thou't do a kinder thing;
--I know thou wo't.

L. _Gal_. What, yield my Honour up!
And after find it sacrific'd anew,
And made the scorn of a triumphing Wife!

Sir _Anth_. Gad, she's i'th' right too! a noble Girl I'll warrant her.

L. _Gal_. But you disdain to satisfy these fears;
And like a proud and haughty Conqueror,
Demand the Town, without the least Conditions.

Sir _Char_. By Heaven, she yields apace. [_Aside_.

_Sir. Anth_. Pox on't, wou'd I had ne'er seen her; now
I have Legions of small Cupids at Hot-cockles in my Heart.

_Wild_. Now I am pausing on that word Conditions.
Thou say'st thou wou't not have me marry thee;
That is, as if I lov'd thee for thy Eyes
And put 'em out to hate thee;
Or like our Stage-smitten Youth, who fall in Love with a
Woman for acting finely, and by taking her off the Stage,
deprive her of the only Charm she had,
Then leave her to ill Luck.

Sir _Anth_. Gad, he's i'th' right again too! a rare Fellow!

_Wild_. For, Widow, know, hadst thou more Beauty, yet not all of 'em were
half so great a Charm as they not being mine.

Sir _Anth_. Hum! how will he make that out now?

_Wild_. The stealths of Love, the midnight kind Admittance,
The gloomy Bed, the soft breath'd murmuring Passion;
Ah, who can guess at Joys thus snatch'd by parcels?
The difficulty makes us always wishing,
Whilst on thy part, Fear makes still some resistance;
And every Blessing seems a kind of Rape.

Sir _Anth_. H'as don't!--A Divine Fellow that; just of my Religion. I am
studying now whether I was never acquainted with his Mother.
[L. Gal. _walks away_. Wild. _follows_.

L. _Gal_. Tempt me no more! what dull unwary Flame
Possest me all this while! Confusion on thee, [_In Rage_.
And all the Charms that dwell upon thy Tongue.
Diseases ruin that bewitching Form,
That with the soft feign'd Vows debaucht my Heart.

Sir _Char_. Heavens! can I yet endure! [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. By all that's good, I'll marry instantly;
Marry, and save my last Stake, Honour, yet,
Or thou wilt rook me out of all at last.

_Wild_. Marry! thou canst not do a better thing;
There are a thousand Matrimonial Fops,
Fine Fools of Fortune,
Good-natur'd Blockheads too, and that's a wonder.

L. _Gal_. That will be manag'd by a Man of Wit.

_Wild_. Right.

L. _Gal_. I have an eye upon a Friend of yours.

_Wild_. A Friend of mine! then he must be my Cuckold.

Sir _Char_. Very fine! can I endure yet more? [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. Perhaps it is your Uncle.

_Wild_. Hah, my Uncle!
[_Sir_ Charles _makes up to 'em_.

Sir _Anth_. Hah, my _Charles_! why, well said, _Charles_, he bore up
briskly to her.

Sir _Char_. Ah, Madam, may I presume to tell you--

Sir _Anth_. Ah, Pox, that was stark naught! he begins like a Fore-man
o'th' Shop, to his Master's Daughter.

_Wild_. How, _Charles Meriwill_ acquainted with my Widow!

Sir _Char_. Why do you wear that scorn upon your Face?
I've nought but honest meaning in my Passion,
Whilst him you favour so profanes your Beauties,
In scorn of Marriage and Religious Rites,
Attempts the ruin of your sacred Honour.

L. _Gal_. Hah, _Wilding_ boast my Love! [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. The Devil take him, my Nephew's quite spoil'd!
Why, what a Pox has he to do with Honour now?

L. _Gal_. Pray leave me, Sir.--

_Wild_. Damn it, since he knows all, I'll boldly own my flame.
You take a liberty I never gave you, Sir.

Sir _Char_. How, this from thee! nay, then I must take more.
And ask you where you borrow'd that Brutality,
T' approach that Lady with your saucy Passion.

Sir _Anth_. Gad, well done, _Charles_! here must be sport anon.

_Wild_. I will not answer every idle Question.

Sir _Char_. Death, you dare not.

_Wild_. How, dare not!

Sir _Char_. No, dare not; for if you did--

_Wild_. What durst you, if I did?

Sir _Char_. Death, cut your Throat, Sir.
[_Taking hold on him roughly_.

Sir _Anth_. Hold, hold, let him have fair play, and then curse him that
parts ye. [_Taking 'em asunder, they draw_.

L. _Gal_. Hold, I command ye, hold!

Sir _Char_. There rest my Sword to all Eternity.
[_Lays his Sword at her Feet_.

L. _Gal_. Now I conjure ye both, by all your Honour,
If you were e'er acquainted with that Virtue,
To see my Face no more,
Who durst dispute your Interest in me thus,
As for a common Mistress, in your Drink.

[_She goes out, and all but_ Wild. _Sir_ Anth. _and_
_Sir Char, who stands sadly looking after her_.

Sir _Anth_. A Heavenly Girl!--Well, now she's gone, by George, I am for
disputing your Title to her by dint of Sword.

Sir _Char_. I wo'not fight.

_Wild_. Another time will decide it, Sir.
[Wild, _goes out_.

Sir _Anth_. After your whining Prologue, Sir, who the Devil would have
expected such a Farce?--Come, _Charles_, take up thy sword, _Charles_;
and d'ye hear forget me this Woman.--

Sir _Char_. Forget her, Sir! there never was a thing so excellent!

Sir _Anth_. You lye, Sirrah, you lye, there's a thousand
As fair, as young, and kinder by this day.
We'll into th' Country, _Charles_, where every Grove
Affords us rustick Beauties,
That know no Pride nor Painting,
And that will take it and be thankful, _Charles_;
Fine wholesom Girls that fall like ruddy Fruit,
Fit for the gathering, _Charles_.

Sir _Char_. Oh, Sir, I cannot relish the coarse Fare.
But what's all this, Sir, to my present Passion?

Sir _Anth_. Passion, Sir! you shall have no Passion, Sir.

Sir _Char_. No Passion, Sir! shall I have Life and Breath?

Sir _Anth_. It may be not, Sirrah, if it be my will and pleasure.
--Why how now! saucy Boys be their own Carvers?

_Sir Char_. Sir, I am all Obedience. [Bowing and sighing.

Sir _Anth_. Obedience! Was ever such a Blockhead! Why then, if I command
it, you will not love this Woman?

Sir _Char_. No, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. No, Sir! But I say, Yes, Sir, love her me; and love her me
like a Man too, or I'll renounce ye, Sir.

Sir _Char_. I've try'd all ways to win upon her Heart,
Presented, writ, watcht, fought, pray'd, kneel'd, and wept.

Sir _Anth_. Why, there's it now; I thought so: kneel'd
and wept! a Pox upon thee--I took thee for a prettier Fellow--
You shou'd have huft and bluster'd at her door,
Been very impudent and saucy, Sir,
Leud, ruffling, mad; courted at all hours and seasons;
Let her not rest, nor eat, nor sleep, nor visit.
Believe me, _Charles_, Women love Importunity.
Watch her close, watch her like a Witch, Boy,
Till she confess the Devil in her,--Love.

Sir _Char_. I cannot, Sir,
Her Eyes strike such an awe into my Soul--

Sir _Anth_. Strike such a Fiddle-stick.--Sirrah, I say, do't; what, you
can towse a Wench as handsomely--You can be leud enough upon occasion. I
know not the Lady, nor her Fortune; but I'm resolv'd thou shalt have her,
with practising a little Courtship of my Mode.--Come--Come, my Boy
_Charles_, since thou must needs be doing, I'll shew thee how to go a
Widow-wooing.

ACT II.

SCENE I. _A Room_.

_Enter_ Charlot, Foppington, _and_ Clacket.

_Charl_. Enough, I've heard enough of _Wilding's_ Vices, to know I am
undone.
[_Weeps_.
--_Galliard_ his Mistress too? I never saw her, but I have heard her
fam'd for Beauty, Wit, and Fortune: That Rival may be dangerous.

_Fop_. Yes, Madam, the fair, the young, the witty Lady _Galliard_, even
in the height of his Love to you; nay, even whilst his Uncle courts her
for a Wife, he designs himself for a Gallant.

_Charl_. Wondrous Inconstancy and Impudence!

Mrs. _Clack_. Nay, Madam, you may rely upon Mr. _Foppington's_
Information; therefore if you respect your Reputation, retreat in time.

_Charl_. Reputation! that I forfeited when I ran away with your Friend,
Mr. _Wilding_.

Mrs. _Clack_. Ah, that ever I shou'd live to see
[_Weeps_]
the sole Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, ran away with one
of the leudest Heathens about Town!

_Charl_. How, your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, a Heathen; and with you too,
Mrs. _Clacket_! that Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, who thought none so worthy as
Mrs. _Clacket_, to trust with so great a Secret as his flight with me; he
a Heathen!

Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, and a poor Heathen too, Madam. 'Slife, if you must
marry a Man to buy him Breeches, marry an honest Man, a Religious Man, a
Man that bears a Conscience, and will do a Woman some Reason--Why, here's
Mr. _Foppington_, Madam; here's a Shape, here's a Face, a Back as strait
as an Arrow, I'll warrant.

_Charl_. How! buy him Breeches! Has _Wilding_ then no Fortune?

_Fop_. Yes, Faith, Madam, pretty well; so, so, as the Dice run; and now
and then he lights upon a Squire, or so, and between fair and foul Play,
he makes a shift to pick a pretty Livelihood up.

_Charl_. How! does his Uncle allow him no present Maintenance?

_Fop_. No, nor future Hopes neither: Therefore, Madam, I hope you will
see the Difference between him and a Man of Parts, that adores you.
[Smiling and bowing.

_Charl_. If I find all this true you tell me, I shall know how to value
my self and those that love me.--This may be yet a Rascal.

_Enter Maid_.

_Maid_. Mistress, Mr. _Wilding's_ below.
[_Exit_.

_Fop_. Below! Oh, Heaven, Madam, do not expose me to his Fury, for being
too zealous in your Service.
[_In great Disorder_.

_Charl_. I will not let him know you told any thing, Sir.

_Fop_. Death! to be seen here, would expose my Life.
[_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. Here, here, step out upon the Stair-case, and slip
into my Chamber.
[_Going out, returns in fright_.

_Fop_. Owns, he's here; lock the Door fast; let him not enter.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, Heavens, I have not the Key! hold it, hold it fast,
sweet, sweet Mr. _Foppington_. Oh, should there be Murder done, what a
Scandal wou'd that be to the House of a true Protestant!
[_Knocks_.

_Charl_. Heavens! what will he say or think, to see me shut in with a
Man?

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, I'll say you're sick, asleep, or out of Humour.

_Charl_. I'd give the World to see him. [_Knocks_.

_Wild_. [_Without_,] _Charlot, Charlot_! am I deny'd an entrance? By
Heaven, I'll break the Door.
[_Knocks again_; Fop. _still holding it_.

_Fop_. Oh, I'm a dead Man, dear Clacket! [_Knocking still_.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, hold, Sir, Mrs. _Charlot_ is very sick.

_Wild_. How, sick, and I kept from her!

Mrs. _Clack_. She begs you'll come again an Hour hence.

_Wild_. Delay'd! by Heaven, I will have entrance.

_Fop_. Ruin'd! undone! for if he do not kill me, he may starve me.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, he will not break in upon us! Hold, Sir, hold a little;
Mrs. _Charlot_ is just--just--shifting her self, Sir; you will not be so
uncivil as to press in, I hope, at such a Time.

_Charl_. I have a fine time on't, between ye, to have him think I am
stripping my self before Mr. _Foppington_--Let go, or I'll call out and
tell him all.

[Wild, _breaks open the Door and rushes in_: Fop. _stands
close up at the entrance till he is past him, then venturing
to slip out, finds_ Wild, _has made fast the Door: so he is
forc'd to return again and stand close up behind_ Wild.
_with signs of Fear_.

_Wild_. How now, _Charlot_, what means this new Unkindness? what, not a
Word?

_Charl_. There is so little Musick in my Voice, you do not care to hear
it: you have been better entertain'd, I find, mightily employ'd, no
doubt.

_Wild_. Yes, faith, and so I have, _Charlot_: damn'd Business, that Enemy
to Love, has made me rude.

_Charl_. Or that other Enemy to Love, damn'd Wenching.

_Wild_. Wenching! how ill hast thou tim'd thy Jealousy! What Banker, that
to morrow is to pay a mighty Sum, wou'd venture out his Stock to day in
little Parcels, and lose his Credit by it?

_Charl_. You wou'd, perfidious as you are, though all your Fortune, all
your future Health, depended on that Credit.
[_Angry_.

_Wild_. So, hark ye, Mrs. Clacket, you have been prating I find in my
Absence, giving me a handsom Character to _Charlot_--You hate any good
thing shou'd go by your own Nose. [_Aside to_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. By my Nose, Mr. _Wilding_! I defy you: I'd have you to
know, I scorn any good thing shou'd go by my Nose in an uncivil way.

_Wild_. I believe so.

Mrs. _Clack_. Have I been the Confident to all your Secrets this three
years, in Sickness and in Health, for richer, for poorer; conceal'd the
Nature of your wicked Diseases, under the honest Name of Surfeits; call'd
your filthy Surgeons, Mr. Doctor, to keep up your Reputation; civilly
receiv'd your t'other end of the Town young Relations at all Hours--

_Wild_. High!

Mrs. _Clack_. Been up with you, and down with you early and late, by
Night and by Day; let you in at all Hours, drunk and sober, single and
double; and civilly withdrawn, and modestly shut the Door after me?

_Wild_. What! The Storm's up, and the Devil cannot lay it.

Mrs. _Clack_. And I am thus rewarded for my Pains!
[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. So Tempests are allay'd by Showers of Rain.

Mrs. _Clack_. That I shou'd be charg'd with speaking ill of you, so
honest, so civil a Gentleman--

_Charl_. No, I have better Witness of your Falshood.

_Fop_. Hah, 'Sdeath, she'll name me!

_Wild_. What mean you, my _Charlot_? Do you not think I love you?

_Charl_. Go ask my Lady _Galliard_, she keeps the best Account of all
your Sighs and Vows, And robs me of my dearest softer Hours.
[_Kindly to him_.

Mrs. _Clack_. You cannot hold from being kind to him. [_Aside_.

_Wild. _Galliard_! How came she by that Secret of my Life? [_Aside_.]
Why, ay, 'tis true, I am there sometimes about an Arbitration, about a
Suit in Law, about my Uncle.

_Charl_. Ay, that Uncle too--
You swore to me you were your Uncle's Heir;
But you perhaps may chance to get him one,
If the Lady prove not cruel.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, what Rascal has been prating to her!
[_Aside_.

_Charl_. Whilst I am reserv'd for a dead Lift, if Fortune prove unkind,
or wicked Uncles refractory: Yet I cou'd love you though you were a
Slave,
[_In a soft Tone to him_.
And I were Queen of all the Universe.

Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, there you spoil'd all again--you forgot your self.

_Charl_. And all the World when he looks kindly on me. But I'll take
Courage and be very angry. [_Aside_. Nor do your Perjuries rest here;
you're equally as false to _Galliard_, as to me; false for a little
Mistress of the Town, whom you've set up in spite to Quality.
[_Angry_.

Mrs. _Clack_. So, that was home and handsom.

_Wild_. What damn'd Informer does she keep in pension?

_Charl_. And can you think my Fortune and my Youth
Merits no better Treatment? [_Angry_.
How cou'd you have the Heart to use me so? [_Soft to him_.
I fall insensibly to Love and Fondness. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. Ah, my dear _Charlot_! you who know my Heart, can you believe me
false?

_Charl_. In every Syllable, in every Look;
Your Vows, your Sighs, and Eyes, all counterfeit.
You said you lov'd me, where was then your Truth?
You swore you were to be your Uncle's Heir;
Where was your Confidence of me the while.
To think my Generosity so scanted,
To love you for your Fortune?
--How every Look betrays my yielding Heart! [_Aside_.
No, since Men are grown so cunning in their
Trade of Love, the necessary Vice I'll practise too,
And chaffer with Love-Merchants for my Heart.
Make it appear you are your Uncle's Heir,
I'll marry ye to morrow.
Of all thy Cheats, that was the most unkind,
Because you thought to conquer by that Lye.
To night I'll be resolv'd.

_Wild_. Hum! to night!

_Charl_. To night, or I will think you love me for my Fortune;
Which if you find elsewhere to more advantage,
I may unpitied die--and I shou'd die
If you should prove untrue. [Tenderly to him.

Mrs. _Clack_. There you've dasht all again.

_Wild_. I'm resolv'd to keep my Credit with her--
Here's my Hand;
This Night, _Charlot_, I'll let you see the Writings.
--But how? a Pox on him that knows for _Thomas_. [_Aside_.

_Charl_. Hah! that Hand without the Ring!
Nay, never study for a handsom Lye.

_Wild_. Ring? Oh, ay, I left it in my Dressing-room this Morning.

_Charl_. See how thou hast inur'd thy Tongue to falshood!
Did you not send it to a certain Creature
They call _Diana_,
From off that Hand that plighted Faith to me?

_Wild_. By Heaven, 'tis Witchcraft all;
Unless this Villain _Foppington_ betray me.
Those sort of Rascals would do any thing
For ready Meat and Wine--I'll kill the Fool--hah, here!
[_Turns quick, and sees him behind him_.

_Fop_. Here, Lord! Lord!
Where were thy Eyes, dear _Wilding_?

_Wild_. Where they have spy'd a Rascal.
Where was this Property conceal'd?

_Fop_. Conceal'd! What dost thou mean, dear _Tom_?
Why, I stood as plain as the Nose on thy Face, mun.

_Wild_. But 'tis the ungrateful Quality of all your sort to make such
base returns.
How got this Rogue Admittance, and when in,
The Impudence to tell his treacherous Lyes?

_Fop_. Admittance! why thou art stark mad: Did not I come in with you,
that is, follow'd you?

_Wild_. Whither?

_Fop_. Why, into the House, up stairs, stood behind you when you swore
you wou'd come in, and follow'd you in!

_Wild_. All this, and I not see!

_Fop_. Oh, Love's blind; but this Lady saw me, Mrs. _Clacket_ saw me--
Admittance quotha!

_Wild_. Why did you not speak?

_Fop_. Speak! I was so amaz'd at what I heard, the villanous Scandals
laid on you by some pick-thank Rogue or other, I had no Power.

_Wild_. Ay, thou know'st how I am wrong'd.

_Fop_. Oh, most damnably, Sir!

_Wild_. Abuse me to my Mistress too!

_Fop_. Oh, Villains! Dogs!

_Charl_. Do you think they have wrong'd him, Sir? For I'll believe you.

_Fop_. Do I think, Madam? Ay, I think him a Son of a Whore that said it;
and I'll cut his Throat.

Mrs. _Clack_. Well, this Impudence is a heavenly Virtue.

_Wild_. You see now, Madam, how Innocence may suffer.

_Charl_. In spite of all thy villanous dissembling, I must believe, and
love thee for my quiet.

_Wild_. That's kind; and if before to morrow I do not shew you I deserve
your Heart, kill me at once by quitting me--Farewel--I know where both my
Uncle's Will and other Writings lie, by which he made me Heir to his
whole Estate. My Craft will be in catching; which if past, Her Love
secures me the kind Wench at last. [_Aside_.
[_Goes out with_ Fop.

Mrs. _Clack_. What if he should not chance to keep his Word now?

_Charl_. How, if he shou'd not! by all that's good, if he shou'd not, I
am resolv'd to marry him however. We two may make a pretty Shift with
three thousand Pound a year; yet I wou'd fain be resolv'd how Affairs
stand between the old Gentleman and him. I wou'd give the World to see
that Widow too, that Lady _Galliard_.

Mrs. _Clack_. If you're bent upon't, I'll tell you what we'll do, Madam;
There's every Day mighty Feasting here at his Uncle's hard by, and you
shall disguise your self as well as you can, and so go for a Niece of
mine I have coming out of Scotland; there you will not fail of seeing my
Lady _Galliard_, though, I doubt, not Mr. _Wilding_, who is of late
discarded.

_Charl_. Enough; I am resolv'd upon this Design; let's in and practise
the northern Dialect.

[_Ex. both_.

SCENE II. _The Street_.

_Enter_ Wilding _and_ Foppington.

_Wild_. But then _Diana_ took the Ring at last?

_Fop_. Greedily, but rail'd, and swore, and ranted at your
late Unkindness, and wou'd not be appeas'd.

_Enter_ Dresswell.

_Wild. Dresswell_, I was just going to see for thee.

_Dres_. I'm glad, dear _Tom_, I'm here to serve thee.

_Wild_. And now I've found thee, thou must along with me.

_Dres_. Whither? but I'll not ask, but obey.

_Wild_. To a kind Sinner, _Frank_.

_Dres_. Pox on 'em all; prithee turn out those petty Tyrants of thy
Heart, and fit it for a Monarch, Love, dear _Wilding_, of which them
never knew'st the Pleasure yet or not above a day.

_Wild_. Not knew the Pleasure! Death, the very Essence the first Draughts
of Love. Ah, how pleasant 'tis to drink when a Man's a dry! The rest is
all but dully sipping on.

_Dres_. And yet this _Diana_, for thither thou art going, thou hast been
constant to this three or four Years.

_Wild_. A constant Keeper thou mean'st; which is indeed enough to get the
Scandal of a Coxcomb: But I know not, those sort of Baggages have a kind
of Fascination so inticing--and faith, after the Fatigues of formal
Visits to a Man's dull Relations, or what's as bad, to Women of Quality;
after the busy Afflictions of the Day, and the Debauches of the tedious
Night, I tell thee, _Frank_, a Man's best Retirement is with a soft kind
Wench. But to say Truth, I have a farther Design in my Visit now. Thou
know'st how I stand past hope of Grace, excommunicated the Kindness of my
Uncle.

_Dres_. True.

_Wild_. My leud Debauches, and being o'th' wrong Party, as he calls it,
is now become an _irreconcilable_ Quarrel, so that I having many and
hopeful Intrigues now depending, especially those of my charming Widow,
and my City-Heiress, which can by no means be carried on without that
damn'd necessary call'd ready Mony; I have stretcht my Credit, as all
young Heirs do, till 'tis quite broke. New Liveries, Coaches, and Clothes
must be had, they must, my Friend.

_Dres_. Why do'st thou not in this Extremity clap up a Match with my Lady
_Galliard_? or this young Heiress you speak of?

_Wild_. But Marriage, _Frank_, is such a Bugbear! And this old Uncle of
mine may one day be gathered together, and sleep with his Fathers, and
then I shall have six thousand Pound a Year, and the wide World before
me; and who the Devil cou'd relish these Blessings with the clog of a
Wife behind him?--But till then, Money must be had, I say.

_Fop_. Ay, but how, Sir?

_Wild_. Why, from the old Fountain, _Jack_, my Uncle; he has himself
decreed it: He tells me I must live upon my Wits, and will, _Frank_.

_Fop_. Gad, I'm impatient to know how.

_Wild_. I believe thee, for thou art out at Elbows; and when I thrive,
you show it i'th' Pit, behind the Scenes, and at Coffee-houses. Thy
Breeches give a better account of my Fortune, than Lilly with all his
Schemes and Stars.

_Fop_. I own I thrive by your influence, Sir.

_Dres_. Well, but to your Project, Friend, to which I'll set a helping
Hand, a Heart, a Sword, and Fortune.

_Wild_. You make good what my Soul conceives of you. Let's to _Diana_
then, and there I'll tell thee all.
[_Going out, they meet_ Diana, _who enters with her
Maid_ Betty, _and Boy, looks angrily_.
--_Diana_, I was just going to thy Lodgings!

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