Wor. Nobody doubts your good will, noble captain, in serving your country; witness our friend Molly at the Castle; there have been tears in town about that business, captain.
Plume. I hope Sylvia has not heard of it.
Wor. Oh, sir, have you thought of her? I began to fancy you had forgot poor Sylvia.
Plume. Your affairs had quite put mine out of my head. 'Tis true, Sylvia and I had once agreed to go to bed together, could we have adjusted preliminaries; but she would have the wedding before consummation, and I was for consummation before the wedding: we could not agree.
Wor. But do you intend to marry upon no other conditions?
Plume. Your pardon, sir, I'll marry upon no condition at all—If I should, I am resolved never to bind myself down to a woman for my whole life, till I know whether I shall like her company for half an hour. Suppose I married a woman without a leg—such a thing might be, unless I examined the goods before-hand.—If people would but try one another's constitutions before they engaged, it would prevent all these elopements, divorces, and the devil knows what.
Wor. Nay, for that matter, the town did not stick to say that——
Plume. I hate country towns for that reason.—If your town has a dishonourable thought of Sylvia, it deserves to be burnt to the ground—I love Sylvia, I admire her frank, generous disposition—there's something in that girl more than woman—In short, were I once a general, I would marry her.
Wor. 'Faith, you have reason—for were you but a corporal, she would marry you—but my Melinda coquets it with every fellow she sees—I'll lay fifty pounds she makes love to you.
Plume. I'll lay you a hundred, that I return it if she does—Look ye, Worthy, I'll win her, and give her to you afterwards.