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

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L. _Gal_. No, hear my Vows.

_Wild_. Hold, see me die; if you resolve 'em fatal to my Love, by Heaven
I'll do't.
[_Lays his Hand on his Sword_.

L. _Gal_. Ah, what--

_Wild_. Revoke that fatal Never then.

L. _Gal_. I dare not.

_Wild_. Oh, say you will.

L. _Gal_. Alas, I dare not utter it.

_Wild_. Let's in, and thou shalt whisper it into my Bosom;
Or sighing, look it to me with thy Eyes.

L. _Gal_. Ah, _Wilding_-- [_Sighs_.

_Wild_. It toucht my Soul! Repeat that Sigh again.

L. _Gal_. Ah, I confess I am but feeble Woman.
[_Leans on him_.

Sir _Char_. Good Mistress Keep-door, stand by: for I must enter.
[_Sir_ Char. _without_.

L. _Gal_. Hah, young Meriwill's Voice!

_Clos_. Pray, Sir _Charles_, let me go and give my Lady notice.
[_She enters and goes to_ Wild.
--For Heaven's sake, Sir, withdraw, or my Lady's Honour's lost.

_Wild_. What will you have me do? [_To_ Galliard.

L. _Gal_. Be gone, or you will ruin me for ever.
[_In disorder_.

_Wild_. Nay, then I will obey.

L. _Gal_. Here, down the back-stairs--
As you have Honour, go and cherish mine.
[_Pulling him. He goes out_.
--He's gone, and now nethinks the shivering Fit of
Honour is return'd.

_Enter Sir_ Charles, _rudely pushing_ Closet _aside with Sir_
Anthony.

_Sir. Char_. Deny'd an entrance! nay, then there is a
Rival in the Case, or so; and I'm resolv'd to discover the
Hellish Plot, d'ye see.

[_Just as he enters drunk at one Door_,
Wild. _returns at the other_.

L. _Gal_. Ha, _Wilding_ return'd! Shield me, ye Shades of Night.
[_Puts out the Candles, and goes to_ Wild.

_Wild_. The Back-Stairs Door is lockt.

L. _Gal_. Oh, I am lost! curse on this fatal Night!
Art thou resolv'd on my undoing every way.

_Clos_. Nay, now we're by dark, let me alone to guide you. Sir.
[_To_ Wild.

Sir _Char_. What, what, all in darkness? Do you make
Love like Cats, by Star-light? [_Reeling about_.

L. _Gal_. Ah, he knows he's here!--Oh, what a pain is Guilt!
[_Aside_.

_Wild_. I wou'd not be surpriz'd.

[_As_ Closet _takes him to lead him out, he takes out his
Sword, and by dark pushes by Sir_ Charles, _and almost
overthrows Sir_ Anth. _at which they both draw, whilst
he goes out with_ Closet.

Sir _Char_. Hah, Gad, 'twas a Spark!--What, vanisht! hah--

Sir _Anth_. Nay, nay, Sir, I am for ye.

Sir _Char_. Are you so, Sir? and I am for the Widow, Sir, and--

[_Just as they are passing at each other_, Closet _enters
with a Candle_.

Hah, why, what have we here?--my nown Flesh and Blood?
[_Embracing his Uncle_.

Sir _Anth_. Cry mercy, Sir! Pray, how fell we out?

Sir _Char_. Out, Sir! Prithee where's my Rival? where's the Spark, the--
Gad, I took thee for an errant Rival: Where is he?
[_Searching about_.

L. _Gal_. Whom seek ye, Sir, a Man, and in my Lodgings?
[_Angrily_.

_Clos_. A Man! Merciful, what will this scandalous lying World come to?
Here's no Man.

Sir _Char_. Away, I say, thou damn'd Domestick Intelligence, that comest
out every half hour with some fresh Sham--No Man!--What, 'twas an
Appointment only, hum,--which I shall now make bold to unappoint, render
null, void, and of none effect. And if I find him here, [_Searches
about_.] I shall very civilly and accidentally, as it were, being in
perfect friendship with him--pray, mark that--run him through the Lungs.

L. _Gal_. Oh, whata Coward's Guilt! what mean you, Sir?

Sir _Char_. Mean? why I am obstinately bent to ravish thee, thou
hypocritical Widow, make thee mine by force, that so I have no obligation
to thee, and consequently use thee scurvily with a good Conscience.

Sir _Anth_. A most delicate Boy! I'll warrant him as lend as the best
of'em, God grant him Life and Health. [Aside.

L. _Gal_. 'Tis late, and I entreat your absence, Sir: These are my Hours
of Prayer, which this unseasonable Visit has disturb'd.

Sir _Char_. Prayer! No more of that, Sweetheart; for let me tell you,
your Prayers are heard. A Widow of your Youth and Complexion can be
praying for nothing so late, but a good Husband; and see, Heaven has sent
him just in the crit--critical minute, to supply your Occasions.

Sir _Anth_. A Wag, an arch Wag; he'll learn to make Lampoons presently.
I'll not give Sixpence from him, though to the poor of the Parish.

Sir _Char_. Come, Widow, let's to Bed.
[Pulls her, she is angry.

L. _Gal_. Hold, Sir, you drive the Jest too far;
And I am in no humour now for Mirth.

Sir _Char_. Jest: Gad, ye lye, I was never in more earnest in all my
Life.

Sir _Anth_. He's in a heavenly humour, thanks to good Wine, good Counsel,
and good Company.
[_Getting nearer the Door still_.

L. _Gal_. What mean you, Sir? what can my Woman think to see me treated
thus?

Sir _Char_. Well thought on! Nay, we'll do things decently, d'ye see--
Therefore, thou sometimes necessary Utensil, withdraw.
[_Gives her to Sir_ Anth.

Sir _Anth_. Ay, ay, let me alone to teach her her Duty.
[_Pushes her out, and goes out_.

L. _Gal_. Stay, Closet, I command ye.
--What have you seen in me shou'd move you to this rudeness?
[_To Sir_ Char.

Sir _Char_. No frowning; for by this dear Night, 'tis Charity, care of
your Reputation, Widow; and therefore I am resolv'd no body shall lie
with you but my self. You have dangerous Wasps buzzing about your Hive,
Widow--mark that--[_She flings from him_.] Nay, no parting but upon
terms, which, in short, d'ye see, are these: Down on your Knees, and
swear me heartily, as Gad shall judge your Soul, d'ye see, to marry me to
morrow.

L. _Gal_. To morrow! Oh, I have urgent business then.

Sir _Char_. So have I. Nay, Gad, an you be for the nearest way to the
Wood, the sober discreet way of loving, I am sorry for ye, look ye.
[_He begins to undress_.

L. _Gal_. Hold, Sir, what mean you?

Sir _Char_. Only to go to Bed, that's all.
[_Still undressing_.

L. _Gal_. Hold, hold, or I'll call out.

Sir _Char_. Ay, do, call up a Jury of your Female Neighbours, they'll be
for me, d'ye see, bring in the Bill Ignoramus, though I am no very true
blue Protestant neither; therefore dispatch, or--

L. _Gal_. Hold, are you mad? I cannot promise you to night.

Sir _Char_. Well, well, I'll be content with Performance then to night,
and trust you for your Promise till to morrow.

Sir _Anth_. [_peeping_.] Ah, Rogue! by George, he out-does my
Expectations of him.

L. _Gal_. What Imposition's this! I'll call for help.

_Sir. Char_. You need not, you'll do my business better alone.
[_Pulls her_.

L. _Gal_. What shall I do? how shall I send him hence? [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. He shall ne'er drink small Beer more, that's positive; I'll
burn all's Books too, they have help'd to spoil him; and sick or well,
sound or unsound, Drinking shall be his Diet, and Whoring his Study.
[_Aside, peeping unseen_.

Sir _Char_. Come, come, no pausing; your Promise, or I'll to Bed.

[_Offers to pull off his Breeches, having pulled
off almost all the rest of his Clothes_.

L. _Gal_. What shall I do? here is no Witness near: And to be rid of him
I'll promise him; he'll have forgot it in his sober Passion. [_Aside_.
Hold, I do swear I will--
[_He fumbling to undo his Breeches_.

Sir _Char_. What?

L. _Gal_. Marry you.

Sir _Char_. When?

L. _Gal_. Nay, that's too much--Hold, hold, I will to morrow--Now you are
satisfy'd, you will withdraw?

_Enter Sir_ Anth. _and_ Closet.

Sir _Anth. Charles_, Joy, _Charles_, give you Joy, here's two substantial
Witnesses.

_Clos_. I deny it, Sir; I heard no such thing.

Sir _Anth_. What, what, Mrs. Closet, a Waiting-woman of Honour, and
flinch from her Evidence! Gad, I'll damn thy Soul if thou dar'st swear
what thou say'st.

L. _Gal_. How, upon the Catch, Sir! am I betray'd?
Base and unkind, is this your humble Love?
Is all your whining come to this, false Man?
By Heaven, I'll be reveng'd.
[_She goes out in a Rage with_ Closet.

Sir _Char_. Nay, Gad, you're caught, struggle and flounder as you please,
Sweetheart, you'll but intangle more; let me alone to tickle your Gills,
i'faith. [_Looking after her_.--Uncle, get ye home about your Business;
I hope you'll give me the good morrow, as becomes me--I say no more, a
Word to the Wise--

Sir _Anth_. By George, thou'rt a brave Fellow; why, I did not think it
had been in thee, Man. Well, adieu; I'll give thee such a good morrow,
_Charles_--the Devil's in him!--'Bye, Charles--a plaguy Rogue!--'night,
Boy--a divine Youth!

[_Going and returning, as not able to leave him. Exit_.

Sir _Char_. Gad, I'll not leave her now, till she is mine;
Then keep her so by constant Consummation.
Let Man o' God do his, I'll do my Part,
In spite of all her Fickleness and Art;
There's one sure way to fix a Widow's Heart.

[_Exit_.

ACT V.

SCENE I. _Sir_ Timothy's _House_.

_Enter_ Dresswell, Foppington, Laboir, _and five or six more
disguised with Wizards and dark Lanthorns_.

_Fop_. Not yet! a plague of this damn'd Widow: The Devil ow'd him an
unlucky Cast, and has thrown it him to night.

_Enter_ Wild, _in Rapture and Joy_.

--Hah, dear _Tom_, art thou come?

_Wild_. I saw how at her length she lay! I saw her rising Bosom bare!

_Fop_. A Pox of her rising Bosom! My dear, let's dress and about our
Business.

_Wild_. Her loose thin Robes, through which appear A Shape design'd for
Love and Play!

_Dres_. Sheart, Sir, is this a time for Rapture? 'tis almost day.

_Wild_. Ah, _Frank_, such a dear Night!

_Dress_. A Pox of Nights, Sir, think of this and the Day to come: which I
perceive you were too well employ'd to remember.

_Wild_. The Day to come! Death, who cou'd be so dull in such dear Joys,
To think of Time to come, or ought beyond 'em! And had I not been
interrupted by _Charles Meriwill_, who, getting drunk, had Courage enough
to venture on an untimely Visit, I'd had no more power of returning, than
committing Treason: But that conjugal Lover, who will needs be my
Cuckold, made me then give him way, that he might give it me another
time, and so unseen I got off. But come--my Disguise.
[_Dresses_.

_Dres_. All's still and hush, as if Nature meant to favour our Design.

_Wild_. 'Tis well: and hark ye, my Friends, I'll prescribe ye no Bounds,
nor Moderation; for I have consider'd, if we modestly take nothing but
the Writings,'twill be easy to suspect the Thief.

_Fop_. Right; and since 'tis for the securing our Necks, 'tis lawful
Prize--Sirrah, leave the Portmantle here.
[_Exeunt as into the House_.

_After a small time, Enter_ Jervice _undres'd, crying out,
pursued by some of the Thieves_.

_Jer_. Murder, Murder! Thieves, Murder!

_Enter_ Wilding _with his Sword drawn_.

_Wild_. A plague upon his Throat; set a Gag in's Mouth
and bind him, though he be my Uncle's chief Pimp--so--

[_They bind and gag him_.
_Enter_ Dresswell, _and_ Laboir.

_Dres_. Well, we have bound all within hearing in their Beds, e'er they
cou'd alarm their Fellows by crying out.

_Wild_. 'Tis well; come, follow me, like a kind Midnight-Ghost, I will
conduct ye to the rich buried Heaps--this Door leads to my Uncle's
Apartment; I know each secret Nook conscious of Treasure.

[_All go in, leaving_ Jervice _bound on the Stage_.

_Enter_ Sensure _running half undressed, as from Sir_ Timothy's
_Chamber, with his Velvet-Coat on her Shoulders_.

_Sen_. Help, help! Murder! Murder!
[Dres. Lab. _and others pursue her_.

_Dres_. What have we here, a Female bolted from Mr. Alderman's Bed?
[Holding a Lanthorn to his Face.

_Sen_. Ah, mercy, Sir, alas, I am a Virgin.

_Dres_. A Virgin! Gad and that may be, for any great Miracles the old
Gentleman can do.

_Sen_. Do! alas, Sir, I am none of the Wicked.

_Dres_. That's well--The sanctify'd Jilt professes Innocence, yet has the
Badge of her Occupation about her Neck.
[_Pulls off the Coat_.

_Sen_. Ah, Misfortune, I have mistook his Worship's Coat for my Gown.
[_A little Book drops out of her Bosom_.

_Dres_. What have we here? A Sermon preacht by Richard Baxter, Divine.
Gad a mercy, Sweetheart, thou art a hopeful Member of the true Protestant
Cause.

_Sen_. Alack, how the Saints may be scandaliz'd! I went but to tuck his
Worship up.

_Dres_. And comment upon the Text a little, which I suppose may be,
increase and multiply--Here, gag, and bind her.
[_Exit_ Dres.

_Sen_. Hold, hold, I am with Child!

_Lab_. Then you'll go near to miscarry of a Babe of Grace.

_Enter_ Wild. Fop. _and others, leading in Sir_ Timothy _in
his Night-gown and Night-Gap_.

Sir _Tim_. Gentlemen, why, Gentlemen, I beseech you use a Conscience in
what you do, and have a feeling in what you go about--Pity my Age.

_Wild_. Damn'd beggarly Conscience, and needless Pity--

Sir _Tim_. Oh, fearful--But, Gentlemen, what is't you design? is it a
general Massacre, pray? or am I the only Person aim'd at as a Sacrifice
for the Nation? I know, and all the World knows, how many Plots have been
laid against my self, both by Men, Women, and Children, the diabolical
Emissaries of the Pope.

_Wild_. How, Sirrah! [_Fiercely, he starts_.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, Gentlemen, not but I love and honour his Holiness with
all my Soul; and if his Grace did but know what I've done for him, d'ye
see--

_Fop_. You done for the Pope, Sirrah! Why, what have you done for the
Pope?

Sir _Tim_. Why, Sir, an't like ye, I have done you very great Service,
very great Service; for I have been, d'ye see, in a small Tryal I had,
the cause and occasion of invalidating the Evidence to that degree, that
I suppose no Jury in Christendom will ever have the Impudence to believe
'em hereafter, shou'd they swear against his Holiness and all the
Conclave of Cardinals.

_Wild_. And yet you plot on still, cabal, treat, and keep open Debauch,
for all the Renegado-Tories and old Commonwealthsmen to carry on the good
Cause.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, what signifies that! You know, Gentlemen, that I have
such a strange and natural Agility in turning--I shall whip about yet,
and leave 'em all in the Lurch.

_Wild_. 'Tis very likely; but at this time we shall not take your Word
for that.

Sir _Tim_. Bloody-minded Men, are you resolv'd to assassinate me then?

_Wild_. You trifle, Sir, and know our Business better, than to think we
come to take your Life, which wou'd not advantage a Dog, much less any
Party or Person--Come, come, your Keys, your Keys.

_Fop_. Ay, ay, discover, discover your Money, Sir, your ready--

Sir _Tim_. Money, Sir, good lack, is that all? [_Smiling on 'em_.]
Why, what a Beast was I, not knowing of your coming, to put out all my
Money last Week to Alderman Draw-tooth? Alack, alack, what shift shall I
make now to accommodate you?--But if you please to come again to morrow--

_Fop_. A shamming Rogue; the right Sneer and Grin of a dissembling Whig.
Come, come, deliver, Sir; we are for no Rhetorick but ready Money.
[_Aloud and threatning_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, I beseech you, Gentlemen, not so loud; for there is a
Lord, a most considerable Person, and a Stranger, honours my House to
night; I wou'd not for the world his Lordship shou'd be disturb'd.

_Wild_. Take no care for him, he's fast bound and all his Retinue.

Sir _Tim_. How, bound! my Lord bound, and all his People! Undone, undone,
disgrac'd! What will the Polanders say, that I shou'd expose their
Embassador to this Disrespect and Affront?

_Wild_. Bind him, and take away his Keys.

[_They bind him hand and foot, and take his
Keys out of his Bosom. Ex. all_.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, ay, what you please, Gentlemen, since my Lord's bound--Oh,
what Recompence can I make for so unhospitable Usage? I am a most
unfortunate Magistrate: hah, who's there, _Jervice_? Alas, art thou here
too? What, canst not speak? but 'tis no matter and I were dumb too; for
what Speech or Harangue will serve to beg my Pardon of my Lord?--And then
my Heiress, _Jervice_, ay, my rich Heiress, why, she'll be ravisht: Oh
Heavens, ravisht! The young Rogues will have no Mercy, _Jervice_; nay,
perhaps as thou say'st, they'll carry her away.--Oh, that thought! Gad, I
rather the City-Charter were lost.
[_Enter some with Bags of Money_.
--Why, Gentlemen, rob like Christians, Gentlemen.

_Fop_. What, do you mutter, Dog?

Sir _Tim_. Not in the least, Sir, not in the least; only a Conscience,
Sir, in all things does well--Barbarous Rogues.
[_They go out all again_.]
Here's your arbitrary Power, _Jervice_; here's the Rule of the Sword now
for you: These are your Tory Rogues, your tantivy Roysters; but we shall
cry quits with you, Rascals, ere long; and if we do come to our old Trade
of Plunder and Sequestration, we shall so handle ye--we'll spare neither
Prince, Peer, nor Prelate. Oh, I long to have a slice at your fat
Church-men, your Crape-Gownorums.

_Enter_ Wild. Dresswell, Laboir, _and the rest, with more Bags_.

_Wild_. A Prize, a Prize, my Lads, in ready Guineas; Contribution, my
beloved.

_Dres_. Nay, then 'tis lawful Prize, in spite of Ignoramus and all his
Tribe--What hast thou here?
[_To_ Fop. _who enters with a Bag full of Papers_.

_Fop_. A whole Bag of Knavery, damn'd Sedition, Libels, Treason,
Successions, Rights and Privileges, with a new-fashion'd Oath of
Abjuration, call'd the Association.--Ah, Rogue, what will you say when
these shall be made publick?

Sir _Tim_. Say, Sir? why, I'll deny it, Sir; for what Jury will believe
so wise a Magistrate as I cou'd communicate such Secrets to such as you?
I'll say you forg'd 'em, and put 'em in--or print every one of 'em, and
own 'em, as long as they were writ and publisht in London, Sir. Come,
come, the World is not so bad yet, but a Man may speak Treason within the
Walls of London, thanks be to God, and honest conscientious Jury-Men. And
as for the Money, Gentlemen, take notice you rob the Party.

_Wild_. Come, come, carry off the Booty, and prithee remove that Rubbish
of the Nation out of the way--Your servant, Sir.--So, away with it to
_Dresswell's_ Lodgings, his Coach is at the Door ready to receive it.

[_They carry off Sir_ Timothy, _and others take up
the Bags, and go out with 'em_.

_Dres_. Well, you are sure you have all you came for?

_Wild_. All's safe, my Lads, the Writings all--

_Fop_. Come, let's away then.

_Wild_. Away? what meanest thou? is there not a Lord to be found bound in
his Bed, and all his People? Come, come, dispatch, and each Man bind his
Fellow.

_Fop_. We had better follow the Baggage, Captain.

_Wild_. No, we have not done so ill, but we dare shew our Faces. Come,
come, to binding.

_Fop_. And who shall bind the last Man?

_Wild_. Honest Laboir, d'ye hear, Sirrah? you get drunk and lay in your
Clothes under the Hall-Table; d'ye hear me? Look to't, ye Rascal, and
carry things discreetly, or you'll be hang'd, that's certain.
[_Ex_. Wild, _and_ Dres.

_Fop_. So, now will I i'th' Morning to _Charlot_, and give her such a
Character of her Love, as if she have Resentment, makes her mine.
[_Exit_ Fop.

Sir _Tim_. [_calls within_.] Ho, Jenkins, Roger, Simon! Where are these
Rogues? none left alive to come to my Assistance? So ho, ho, ho, ho!
Rascals, Sluggards, Drones! so ho, ho, ho!

_Lab_. So, now's my Cue--and stay, I am not yet sober.
[_Puts himself into a drunken Posture_.

Sir _Tim_. Dogs, Rogues, none hear me? Fire, fire, fire!

_Lab_. Water, water, I say; for I am damnable dry.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, who's there?

_Lab_. What doleful Voice is that?

Sir _Tim_. What art thou, Friend or Foe? [_In a doleful Tone_.

_Lab_. Very direful--why, what the Devil art thou?

Sir _Tim_. If thou'rt a Friend, approach, approach the wretched.

_Lab_. Wretched! What art thou, Ghost, Hobgoblin, or walking Spirit?
[_Reeling in with a Lanthorn in's Hand_.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, neither, neither, but mere Mortal, Sir _Timothy
Treat-all_, robb'd and bound.
[_Coming out led by_ Laboir.

_Lab_. How, our generous Host!

Sir _Tim_. How, one of my Lord's Servants! Alas, alas, how cam'st thou to
escape?

_Lab_. E'en by miracle, Sir; by being drunk, and falling asleep under
the Hall-Table with your Worship's Dog Tory, till just now a Dream of
Small-beer wak'd me: and crawling from my Kennel to secure the black
Jack, I stumbled upon this Lanthorn, which I took for one, till I found a
Candle in't, which helps me to serve your Worship.
[_Goes to unbind his Hands_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, hold, I say; for I scorn to be so uncivil to be unbound
before his Lordship: therefore run, Friend, to his Honour's Chamber, for
he, alas, is confined too.

_Lab_. What, and leave his worthy Friend in distress? by no means, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Well then, come, let's to my Lord, whom if I be not asham'd to
look in the Face, I am an errant Sarazen.

[_Exit Sir_ Tim. _and_ Lab.

SCENE II. _Changes to_ Wilding's _Chamber_.

_He is discovered sitting in a Chair bound, his Valet
bound by him; to them Sir_ Timothy _and_ Laboir.

_Wild_. Peace, Sirrah, for sure I hear some coming--Villains, Rogues! I
care not for my self, but for the good pious Alderman.
[_Sir_ Tim. _as listening_.

Sir _Tim_. Wonderful Goodness, for me! Alas, my Lord, this sight
will break my Heart.
[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Sir _Timothy_ safe! nay, then I do forgive 'em.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, my Lord, I've heard of your rigid Fate.

_Wild_. It is my Custom, Sir, to pray an Hour or two in my Chamber,
before I go to Bed; and having pray'd that drousy Slave asleep, the
Thieves broke in upon us unawares, I having laid my Sword aside.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, Heavens, at his Prayers! damn'd Ruffians, and wou'd they
not stay till you had said your Prayers?

_Wild_. By no Persuasion--Can you not guess who they shou'd be, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Oh, some damn'd Tory-rory Rogues, you may be sure, to rob a
Man at his Prayers! why, what will this World come to?

_Wild_. Let us not talk, Sir, but pursue 'em.
[_Offering to go_.

Sir _Tim_. Pursue 'em! alas, they're past our reach by this time.

_Wild_. Oh, Sir, they are nearer than you imagine: some that know each
Corner of your House, I'll warrant.

Sir _Tim_. Think ye so, my Lord? ay, this comes of keeping open House;
which makes so many shut up their Doors at Dinner-time.

_Enter_ Dresswell.

_Dres_. Good Morrow, Gentlemen! what, was the Devil broke loose to night?

Sir _Tim_. Only some of his Imps, Sir, saucy Varlets, insupportable
Rascals--But well, my Lord, now I have seen your Lordship at liberty,
I'll leave you to your rest, and go see what Harm this night's Work has
done.

_Wild_. I have a little Business, Sir, and will take this time to
dispatch it in; my Servants shall to Bed, though 'tis already day--I'll
wait on you at Dinner.

Sir _Tim_. Your time; my House and all I have is yours; and so I take
my Leave of your Lordship.
[_Ex. Sir_ Tim.

_Wild_. Now for my angry Maid, the young _Charlot_;
'Twill be a Task to soften her to Peace;
She is all new and gay, young as the Morn,
Blushing as tender Rose-Buds on their Stalks,
Pregnant with Sweets, for the next Sun to ravish.
--Come, thou shalt along with me, I'll trust thy Friendship.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _Changes to_ Diana's _Chamber_.

_She is discovered dressing, with_ Betty.

_Dia_. Methinks I'm up as early as if I had a mind to what I'm going to
do, marry this rich old Coxcomb.

_Bet_. And you do well to lose no time.

_Dia_. Ah, Betty, and cou'd thy Prudence prefer an old Husband, because
rich, before so young, so handsom, and so soft a Lover as _Wilding_?

_Bet_. I know not that, Madam; but I verily believe the way to keep your
young Lover, is to marry this old one: for what Youth and Beauty cannot
purchase, oney and Quality may.

_Dia_. Ay, but to be oblig'd to lie with such a Beast; ay, there's the
Devil,
_Betty_. Ah, when I find the difference of their Embraces,
The soft dear Arms of _Wilding_ round my Neck.
From those cold feeble ones of this old Dotard;
When I shall meet, instead of _Tom's_ warm kisses,
A hollow Pair of thin blue wither'd Lips,
Trembling with Palsy, stinking with Disease,
By Age and Nature barricado'd up
With a kind Nose and Chin;
What Fancy or what Thought can make my Hours supportable?

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