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.