Alon. Faith, Euphemia, you might have believ’d, and taken me upon better Terms, if you had so pleas’d: To marry you is but an ill-favour’d Proof to give you of my Passion.
Euph. Do you repent it?
Alon. Would to God ’twere come but to that, I was just upon the Point of it when you enter’d. But I know not what the Devil there is in that Face of yours, but it has debauch’d every sober Thought about me: Faith, do not let us marry yet.
Euph. If we had not proceeded too far to retreat, I should be content.
Alon. What shall I come to? all on the sudden to leave delicious whoring, drinking and fighting, and be condemn’d to a dull honest Wife. Well, if it be my ill Fortune, may this Curse light on thee that has brought me to’t: may I love thee even after we are married to that troublesome Degree, that I may grow most damnable jealous of thee, and keep thee from the Sight of all Mankind, but thy own natural Husband, that so thou may’st be depriv’d of the greatest Pleasure of this Life, the Blessing of Change.
Euph. I am sorry to find so much ill Nature in you; would you have the Conscience to tie me to harder Conditions than I would you?
Alon. Nay, I do not think I shall be so wickedly loving; but I am resolv’d to marry thee and try.
Euph. My Father, Sir, on with your Disguise. [To them Carlo.
Car. Well, Sir, how do you like my Daughter?
Alon. So, so, she’ll serve for a Wife.