Miss Coy. There is no necessity for explanation; you are free to rove where you will, and may the next confiding creature that accepts your proposal be more fortunate than I have been. (Going.)
Nig. Nay, nay, don’t go, dear, don’t go. Damper, I must be married: think of the delights of a domestic temple of repose—a cheerful wife.
Miss Coy. Ah, sir, strike the balance between celibacy and matrimony, I will assist you. Go on, sir,—a cheerful wife——
Nig. Angelic!
Dam. Sometimes cross as the devil.
Nig. Ah, true!
Miss Coy. Dear, rosy children welcoming your return home.
Nig. Ah, delightful!
Dam. To plague and torment you with their noise, and their screaming and fighting all the time you are there.
Nig. Ah, true!