Isa. I have but one condition more to add; for I will be as reasonable as you; and that is a very poor request—to have all the money in my disposing.
Tim. How, all the money?
Isa. Ay, for I am sure I can huswife it better for your honour; not but that I shall be willing to encourage you with pocket-money, or so, sometimes.
Tim. This is somewhat hard.
Isa. Nay, if a woman cannot do that, I shall think you have an ill opinion of my virtue: Not trust your own flesh and blood, Sir Timorous?
Tim. Well, is there any thing more behind?
Isa. Nothing more, only the choice of my own company, my own hours, and my own actions: These trifles granted me, in all things of moment, I am your most obedient wife and servant, Isabella.
Tim. Is't a match, then?
Isa. For once I am content it shall; but 'tis to redeem you from those rascals, Burr and Failer—that way, Sir Timorous, for fear of spies; I'll meet you at the garden door.—[Exit TIMOROUS.] I have led all women the way, if they dare but follow me. And now march off, if I can scape but spying, With my drums beating, and my colours flying.
[Exit.