SCENE I. A Room.
Enter Charlot, Foppington, and Clacket.
Charl. Enough, I’ve heard enough of Wilding’s Vices, to know I am undone. [Weeps. —Galliard his Mistress too? I never saw her, but I have heard her fam’d for Beauty, Wit, and Fortune: That Rival may be dangerous.
Fop. Yes, Madam, the fair, the young, the witty Lady Galliard, even in the height of his Love to you; nay, even whilst his Uncle courts her for a Wife, he designs himself for a Gallant.
Charl. Wondrous Inconstancy and Impudence!
Mrs. Clack. Nay, Madam, you may rely upon Mr. Foppington’s
Information; therefore if you respect your Reputation, retreat in time.
Charl. Reputation! that I forfeited when I ran away with your Friend, Mr. Wilding.
Mrs. Clack. Ah, that ever I shou’d live to see [Weeps] the sole Daughter and Heir of Sir Nicholas Gett-all, ran away with one of the leudest Heathens about Town!
Charl. How, your Friend, Mr. Wilding, a Heathen; and with you too, Mrs. Clacket! that Friend, Mr. Wilding, who thought none so worthy as Mrs. Clacket, to trust with so great a Secret as his flight with me; he a Heathen!
Mrs. Clack. Ay, and a poor Heathen too, Madam. ‘Slife, if you must marry a Man to buy him Breeches, marry an honest Man, a Religious Man, a Man that bears a Conscience, and will do a Woman some Reason—Why, here’s Mr. Foppington, Madam; here’s a Shape, here’s a Face, a Back as strait as an Arrow, I’ll warrant.