Guil. Time enough, time enough.
Isa. You love me not, that can deny me this.
Guil. Love—no, we are married now, and People of our Quality never Love after Marriage; ‘tis not great.
Isa. Nay, let’s retire, and compleat my Quality, and you will find me a Wife of the Mode, I’ll warrant you.
Guil. For once you have prevail’d.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. Whither away?
Isa. Only to consummate a little, pray keep your distance. [She pulls off his hat.
Fran. Consummate!
Isa. Ay, Sir, that is to make me an absolute Viscountess—we cannot stay—farewel. [Guiliom leads her out.