Sir Wil. She is over head and ears in love with me!
She’s mad with love! There’s love and all its signs!
She’s jealous of me unto very death!
Poor Widow Green! I warrant she is now
In tears! I think I hear her sob! Poor thing!
Sir William! Oh, Sir William! You have raised
A furious tempest! Set your wits to work
To turn it to a calm. No question that
She loves me! None then that she’ll take me! So
I’ll have the marriage settlements made out
To-morrow, and a special licence got,
And marry her the next day! I will make
Quick work of it, and take her by surprise!
Who but a widower a widow’s match?
What could she see with else but partial eyes
To guess me only forty? I’m a wonder!
What shall I pass for in my wedding suit?
I vow I am a puzzle to myself,
As well as all the world besides. Odd’s life!
To win the heart of buxom Widow Green!
[Goes out.]
[Widow Green re-enters with Lydia.]
W. Green. At last the dotard’s gone! Fly, Lydia, fly,
This letter bear to Master Waller straight;
Quick, quick, or I’m undone! He is abused,
And I must undeceive him—own my love,
And heart and hand at his disposal lay.
Answer me not, my girl—obey me! Fly.
[Goes out.]
Lydia. Untowardly it falls!—I had resolved
This hour to tell her I must quit her service!
Go to his house! I will not disobey
Her last commands!—I’ll leave it at the door,
And as it closes on me think I take
One more adieu of him! Hard destiny!
[Goes out.]
SCENE II.—A Room in Sir William’s.
[Enter Constance.]
Con. The booby! He must fall in love, indeed!
And now he’s naught but sentimental looks
And sentences, pronounced ’twixt breath and voice!
And attitudes of tender languishment!
Nor can I get from him the name of her
Hath turned him from a stock into a fool.
He hems and haws, now titters, now looks grave!
Begins to speak and halts! takes off his eyes
To fall in contemplation on a chair,
A table, or the ceiling, wall, or floor!
I’ll plague him worse and worse! O, here he comes!