Sir Char. Come, Widow, let’s to Bed.
[Pulls her, she is angry.
L. Gal. Hold, Sir, you drive the Jest too far;
And I am in no humour now for Mirth.
Sir Char. Jest: Gad, ye lye, I was never in more earnest in all my
Life.
Sir Anth. He’s in a heavenly humour, thanks to good Wine, good Counsel, and good Company. [Getting nearer the Door still.
L. Gal. What mean you, Sir? what can my Woman think to see me treated thus?
Sir Char. Well thought on! Nay, we’ll do things decently, d’ye see— Therefore, thou sometimes necessary Utensil, withdraw. [Gives her to Sir Anth.
Sir Anth. Ay, ay, let me alone to teach her her Duty. [Pushes her out, and goes out.
L. Gal. Stay, Closet, I command ye. —What have you seen in me shou’d move you to this rudeness? [To Sir Char.
Sir Char. No frowning; for by this dear Night, ‘tis Charity, care of your Reputation, Widow; and therefore I am resolv’d no body shall lie with you but my self. You have dangerous Wasps buzzing about your Hive, Widow—mark that—[She flings from him.] Nay, no parting but upon terms, which, in short, d’ye see, are these: Down on your Knees, and swear me heartily, as Gad shall judge your Soul, d’ye see, to marry me to morrow.
L. Gal. To morrow! Oh, I have urgent business then.