W. Green. Do you say so? Well,
I’ll never guess a man’s age by his looks
Again.—Poor Master Waller! He must writhe
To hear I think Sir William is so young.
I’ll turn his visit yet to more account.—[Aside.]
A handsome ring, Sir William, that you wear!
Sir Wil. Pray look at it.
W. Green. The mention of a ring
Will take away his breath.
Wal. She must be mine
Whate’er her terms! [Aside.]
W. Green. I’ll steal a look at him!
Wal. What! though it be the ring?—the marriage ring?
If that she sticks at, she deserves to wear it!
Oh, the debate which love and prudence hold! [Aside.]
W. Green. How highly he is wrought upon! His hands
Are clenched!—I warrant me his frame doth shake!
Poor Master Waller! I have filled his heart
Brimful with passion for me. The delight
Of proving thus my power!
Sir Wil. Dear Widow Green!—
She hears not! How the ring hath set her thinking!
I’ll try and make her jealous. [Aside.]—Widow Green!
W. Green. Sir William Fondlove!
Sir Wil. Would you think that ring
Could tell a story?