Will. —Even thou—who seest me dying unregarded, wou’d then be fond and kind, and flatter me. [Soft tone.
By Heaven, I’ll hate thee then; nay, I will marry to be rich to hate thee: the worst of that, is but to suffer nine Days Wonderment. Is not that [better than an Age of Scorn from a proud faithless Beauty?]
La Nu. Oh, there’s Resentment left—why, yes faith, such a Wedding would give the Town diversion: we should have a lamentable Ditty made on it, entitled, The Captain’s Wedding, with the doleful Relation of his being over-laid by an o’er-grown Monster.
Will. I’ll warrant ye I escape that as sure as cuckolding; for I would fain see that hardy Wight that dares attempt my Lady Bright, either by Force or Flattery.
La Nu. So, then you intend to bed her?
Will. Yes faith, and beget a Race of Heroes, the Mother’s Form with all the Father’s Qualities.
La Nu. Faith, such a Brood may prove a pretty Livelihood for a poor decay’d Officer; you may chance to get a Patent to shew ’em in England, that Nation of Change and Novelty.
Will. A provision old Carlo cannot make for you against the abandon’d day.
La Nu. He can supply the want of Issue a better way; and tho he be not so fine a fellow as your self, he’s a better Friend, he can keep a Mistress: give me a Man can feed and clothe me, as well as hug [and all to bekiss me], and tho his Sword be not so good as yours, his Bond’s worth a thousand Captains. This will not do, I’ll try what Jealousy will do. [Aside.] Your Servant, Captain—your Hand, Sir. [Takes Ariadne by the Hand.
Will. Hah, what new Coxcomb’s that—hold, Sir— [Takes her from him.