Rasor. [Licking his Lips.] Not be a Rogue?——Amor vincit Omnia.
[Exit Rasor.
Enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.
Lady Fan. Marry, say ye? Will the two Things marry?
Madam. On le va faire, Madame.
Lady Fan. Look you, Madamoiselle—In short, I can't bear it——No; I find I can't—If once I see 'em a-bed together, I shall have ten thousand Thoughts in my Head will make me run distracted. Therefore run and call Rasor back immediately; for something must be done to stop this impertinent Wedding. If I can but defer it four-and-twenty Hours, I'll make such Work about Town, with that little pert Slut's Reputation, he shall as soon marry a Witch.
Madam. [Aside.] La voilà bien intentionnée.
[Exeunt.
SCENE, Constant's Lodgings.
Enter Constant and Heartfree.