Phil. It is past your Politicks at this time, Sir.
Sir Tim. I’ll try all ways, and the Devil’s in it, if I don’t hit upon the right at last. [Aside. All the soft things I’ve said—
Phil. That a Knight of your Parts ought to say.
Sir Tim. Then I have kneel’d—and cry’d, and swore—and—
Phil. And damn’d your self five hundred times.
Sir Tim. Yet still y’are impregnable—I’ll make another Proposition to you, which is both reasonable and modish—if it prove a Boy—I’ll marry you—the Devil’s in’t, if that be not fair.
Phil. You get no earnest of me, Sir, and so farewel to you. [Ex. Phillis.
Enter Sham.
Sir Tim. Oh, Sham, I am all over fire, mad to enjoy. I have done what Man can do (without doing what I wou’d do) and still she’s Flint; nothing will down with her but Matrimony—what shall I do? for thou know’st I cannot marry a Wife without a Fortune.
Sham. Sir, you know the old Cheat; hire a Lay Rascal in a Canonical Habit, and put a false Marriage upon her.