W. Green. ’Twas planned by letter. Notes, you know,
Have often come to her—But I forgive her,
Since this advice she chanced to leave behind
Of gentle Master Waller’s wishes, which
I bless myself in blessing!—Gods, a knock!
’Tis he! Show in those ladies are so kind
To act my bridemaids for me on this brief
And agitating notice.
[Amelia goes out.]
Yes, I look
A bride sufficiently! And this the hand
That gives away my liberty again.
Upon my life it is a pretty hand,
A delicate and sentimental hand!
No lotion equals gloves; no woman knows
The use of them that does not sleep in them!
My neck hath kept its colour wondrously!
Well; after all it is no miracle
That I should win the heart of a young man.
My bridemaids come!—Oh dear!
[Enter two Ladies.]
First Lady. How do you, love? A good morning to you—Poor dear,
How much you are affected! Why we thought
You ne’er would summon us.
W. Green. One takes, you know,
When one is flurried, twice the time to dress.
My dears, has either of you salts? I thank you!
They are excellent; the virtue’s gone from mine,
Nor thought I of renewing them—Indeed,
I’m unprovided, quite, for this affair.
First Lady. I think the bridegroom’s come!
W. Green. Don’t say so! How
You’ve made my heart jump!
First Lady. As you sent for us,
A new-launched carriage drove up to the door;
The servants all in favours.
W. Green. ’Pon my life,
I never shall get through it; lend me your hand.