Sir John. I will not be the only man that must sleep without a bed-fellow to-night, if this lady will once again receive me.
L. Dupe. She's yours, sir.
Lord. And the same parson, that did the former execution, is still in the next chamber; what with candles, wine, and quidding, which he has taken in abundance, I think he will be able to wheedle two more of you into matrimony.
Mill. Poor Sir Martin looks melancholy! I am half afraid he is in love.
Warn. Not with the lady that took him for a wit, I hope.
Rose. At least, Sir Martin can do more than you, Mr Warner; for he can make me a lady, which you cannot my mistress.
Sir Mart. I have lost nothing but my man, and, in fine, I shall get another.
Mill. You'll do very well, Sir Martin, for you'll never be your own man, I assure you.
Warn. For my part, I had loved you before, if I had followed my inclination.
Mill. But now I am afraid you begin of the latest, except your love can grow up, like a mushroom, at a night's warning.