L. Gal. Some small Exception to his whining Humour; but I think my chiefest dislike is, because my Relations wish it a Match between us. It is not hate to him, but natural contradiction. Hah, is not that Wilding yonder? he’s reading of a Letter sure.
Wild. So, she sees me. Now for an Art to make her lure me up: for though I have a greater mind than she, it shall be all her own; the Match she told me of this Morning with my Uncle, sticks plaguily upon my Stomach; I must break the Neck on’t, or break the Widow’s Heart, that’s certain. If I advance towards the Door now, she frowningly retires; if I pass on, ‘tis likely she may call me. [Advances.
L. Gal. I think he’s passing on,
Without so much as looking towards the Window.
Clos. He’s glad of the excuse of being forbidden.
L. Gal. But, Closet, know’st thou not he has abus’d my Fame,
And does he think to pass thus unupbraided?
Is there no Art to make him look this way?
No Trick—Prithee feign to laugh. [Clos. laughs.
Wild. So, I shall not answer to that Call.
L. Gal. He’s going! Ah, Closet, my Fan!—
[Lets fall her Fan just as he passes by; he
takes it up, and looks up.
Cry mercy, Sir, I am sorry I must trouble you to bring it.
Wild. Faith, so am I; and you may spare my Pains, and send your Woman for’t, I’m in haste.
L. Gal. Then the quickest way will be to bring it.
[Goes out of the Balcony with Closet.
Wild. I knew I should be drawn in one way or other.