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.