Sir John. Pox of her Virtue! If I cou'd but catch her Adulterating, I might be divorc'd from her by Law.
Heart. And so pay her a yearly Pension, to be a distinguish'd Cuckold.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, there's my Lord Rake, Colonel Bully, and some other Gentlemen at the Blue-Posts, desire your Company.
Sir John. Cod's so, we are to consult about playing the Devil to-night.
Heart. Well, we won't hinder Business.
Sir John. Methinks I don't know how to leave you, tho': But for once I must make bold. Or look you; may be the Conference mayn't last long: So, if you'll wait here half an hour, or an hour; if I don't come then—why, then—I won't come at all.
Heart. [To Const.] A good modest Proposition, truly!
[Aside.