Tim. Why, is your heart a stone or flint?
Aur. Be plain, sir, I understand you not.
Tim. Not understand me?
Y'are the [first] lady that e'er put a man
To speak plain English: some would understand
Riddles and signs. Say, I should love you, lady!
Aur. There should be no love lost, sir.
Tim. Say you so?
Then, by this air, my teeth e'en water at you:
I long to have some offspring by you. We
Shall have an excellent breed of wits:
I mean my youngest son shall be a poet; and
My daughters, like their mother, every one
A wench o' th' game. And for my eldest son,
He shall be like me, and inherit. Therefore
Let's not defer our joys, but go to bed
And multiply.
Aur. Soft, sir, the priest must first
Discharge his office. I do not[247] mean to marry,
Enter Dorcas out of her Puritan dress.
Like ladies in New England, where they couple
With no more ceremony than birds choose their mate
Upon St Valentine's day.
Dor. Madam, the preacher
Is sent for to a churching, and doth ask
If you be ready: he shall lose, he says,
His chrysome[248] else.
Aur. O miracle! out of
Your little ruff, Dorcas, and in the fashion!
Dost thou hope to be saved?