Lure. Pshaw! I knew her very well; the woman was well enough. But you don’t answer my question, Sir.
Wild. So, Madam, as I told you before, she was young and beautiful, I was rich and vigorous; my estate gave a lustre to my love, and a swing to our enjoyment; round, like the ring that made us one, our golden pleasures circled without end.
Lure. Golden pleasures! Golden fiddlesticks. What d’ye tell me of your canting stuff? Was she virtuous, I say?
Wild. Ready to burst with envy; but I will torment thee a little. [Aside.] So, Madam, I powder’d to please her, she dress’d to engage me; we toy’d away the morning in amorous nonsense, loll’d away the evening in the Park or the playhouse, and all the night—hem!
Lure. Look ye, Sir, answer my question, or I shall take it ill.
Wild. Then, Madam, there was never such a pattern of unity. Her wants were still prevented by my supplies; my own heart whisper’d me her desires, ‘cause she herself was there; no contention ever rose, but the dear strife of who should most oblige: no noise about authority; for neither would stoop to command, ‘cause both thought it glory to obey.
Lure. Stuff! stuff! stuff! I won’t believe a word on’t.
Wild. Ha, ha, ha. Then, Madam, we never felt the yoke of matrimony, because our inclinations made us one; a power superior to the forms of wedlock. The marriage torch had lost its weaker light in the bright flame of mutual love that join’d our hearts before; then—
Lure. Hold, hold, Sir; I cannot bear it; Sir Harry, I’m affronted.
Wild. Ha, ha, ha. Affronted!