L. Kno. Leander, raise your Soul above that little trifle Lucretia;—cannot you guess what better Fate attends you? fy, how dull you are! must I instruct you in plain right-down Terms? and tell you, that I propose you Master of my Fortune.—Now possibly you understand me.
Enter Lucretia, and peeps.
Lean. I wish I did not, Madam,
Unless I’d Virtue to deserve the Bounty;
I have Dissimulation hides,
Inconstant, wild, debauch’d as Youth can make me.
Lucr. All that will not do your Business. Aside.
L. Kno. Yet you wou’d have my Daughter take you with all these Faults; they’re Virtues there, but to the name of Mother, they all turn retrograde: I can endure a Man
As wild and as inconstant as she can;
I have a Fortune too that can support that Humour,