MILLA. Well, an illiterate man’s my aversion; I wonder at the impudence of any illiterate man to offer to make love.
WIT. That I confess I wonder at, too.
MILLA. Ah, to marry an ignorant that can hardly read or write!
PET. Why should a man be any further from being married, though he can’t read, than he is from being hanged? The ordinary’s paid for setting the psalm, and the parish priest for reading the ceremony. And for the rest which is to follow in both cases, a man may do it without book. So all’s one for that.
MILLA. D’ye hear the creature? Lord, here’s company; I’ll begone.
SCENE XIV.
Sir Wilfull Witwoud in a riding dress, Mrs. Marwood, Petulant, Witwoud, Footman.
WIT. In the name of Bartlemew and his Fair, what have we here?
MRS. MAR. ’Tis your brother, I fancy. Don’t you know him?
WIT. Not I:—yes, I think it is he. I’ve almost forgot him; I have not seen him since the revolution.