Wild. Go, get ye home, and trick and betauder your self up like a right City-Lady, rich, but ill-fashion’d; on with all your Jewels, but not a Patch, ye Gypsy, nor no Spanish Paint d’ye hear.
Dia. I’ll warrant you for my part.
Wild. Then before the old Gentleman, you must behave your self very soberly, simple, and demure, and look as prew as at a Conventicle; and take heed you drink not off your Glass at Table, nor rant, nor swear: one Oath confounds our Plot, and betrays thee to be an arrant Drab.
Dia. Doubt not my Art of Dissimulation.
Wild. Go, haste and dress— [Ex. Dian. Bet. and Boy.
Enter Lady Gall, and Closet, above in the Balcony;
Wild. going out, sees them, stops, and reads a Paper.
Wild. Hah, who’s yonder? the Widow! a Pox upon’t, now have I not power to stir; she has a damn’d hank upon my Heart, and nothing but right down lying with her will dissolve the Charm. She has forbid me seeing her, and therefore I am sure will the sooner take notice of me. [Reads.
Clos. What will you put on to night, Madam? You know you are to sup at Sir Timothy Treat-all’s.
L. Gal. Time enough for that; prithee let’s take a turn in this
Balcony, this City-Garden, where we walk to take the fresh Air of the
Sea-coal Smoak. Did the Footman go back, as I ordered him, to see how
Wilding and Sir Charles parted?
CIos. He did, Madam, and nothing cou’d provoke Sir Charles to fight after your Ladyship’s strict Commands. Well, I’ll swear he’s the sweetest natur’d Gentleman—has all the advantages of Nature and Fortune: I wonder what Exception your Ladyship has to him.