Wit. I will, provided that our Friendship’s safe; I am this day to marry her, and if you can find a means to do’t in my room, I shall resign my Interest to my Friend; for ’tis the lovely Mother I adore.
Lod. And was it you I fought with in the Garden?
Wit. Yes, and thereby hangs a tale of a mistake almost equal to thine, which I’ll at leisure tell you. Talks to Lod. and Lean.
Sir Cred. I’m glad they’re Friends; Zoz, here was like to have been a pretty Business; what damnable work this same Womankind makes in a Nation of Fools that are Lovers?
Wit. Look ye, I am a damn’d dull Fellow at Invention, I’ll therefore leave you to contrive matters by your selves, whilst I’ll go try how kind Fortune will be to me this Morning, and see in what readiness my Bride is. What you do must be thought on suddenly; I’ll wait on you anon, and let you know how matters go.—I’m as impatient to know the truth of this, as for an opportunity to enjoy Lucia. Goes out.
Lod. Leander, what shall I do?
Lean. You were best consult your Mother and Sister; Women are best at Intrigues of this kind: But what becomes of me?
Lod. Let me alone to dispatch this Fool, I long to have him out of the way, he begins to grow troublesome:—but now my Mother expects you.
Lean. Prithee be careful of me.— Exit Lean.
Sir Cred. What was this long Whisper, something about me?