Mrs. Clack. Marry, Heaven forbid! But who that knows you have been a single Hour in Wilding’s Hands, wou’d not swear you have lost your Maidenhead? And back again I’m sure you dare not go unmarried; that wou’d be a fine History to be sung to your eternal Fame in a Ballad.
Fop. Right; and you see Wilding has left you for the Widow, to whom perhaps you’ll shortly hear he’s married.
Char. Oh, you trifle, Sir; lead on.
[They going out, meet Sir Anthony with Musick: they return.
Sir Anth. Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the House, and this the Window belonging to my Lady’s Bed-chamber: Come, come, let’s have some neat, soft, brisk, languishing, sprightly Air now.
Fop. Old Meriwill—how shall I pass by him! [Stand by.
Sir Anth. So, here’s Company too; ‘tis very well—Not have the Boy?
I’ll warrant this does the Business—Come, come, screw up your
Chitterling.
[They play.
—Hold, hold a little—Good morrow, my Lady Galliard.
—Give your Ladyship Joy.
Char. What do I hear, my Lady Galliard joy’d?
Fop. How, married her already?
Char. Oh, yes, he has. Lovely and false, hast thou deceiv’d my Faith?