L. Gal. Hah, Wilding! Oh, my eternal Shame! Now thou hast done thy worst.
Sir Char. Now for a Struggle ‘twixt your Love and Honour!
—Yes, here’s the Bar to all my Happiness,
You wou’d be left to the wide World and Love,
To Infamy, to Scandal, and to Wilding;
But I have too much Honour in my Passion,
To let you loose to ruin: Consider and be wise.
L. Gal. Oh, he has toucht my Heart too sensibly. [Aside.
Sir Anth. [within.] As far as good Manners goes I’m yours;
But when you press indecently to Ladies Chambers, civil
Questions ought to askt, I take it, Sir.
L. Gal. To find him here, will make him mad with Jealousy, and in the
Fit he’ll utter all he knows: Oh, Guilt, what art thou! [Aside.
Enter Sir Anth. Wild, and Dres.
Dres. Prithee, dear Wilding, moderate thy Passion.
Wild. By Heaven, I will; she shall not have the Pleasure to see I am concern’d—Morrow, Widow; you are early up, you mean to thrive, I see, you’re like a Mill that grinds with every Wind.
Sir Char. Hah, Wilding, this that past last Night at Sir Timothy’s for a Man of Quality? Oh, give him way, Wilding’s my Friend, my Dear, and now I’m sure I have the Advantage of him in my Love. I can forgive a hasty Word or two.
Wild. I thank thee, Charles—what, you are married then?