Man. Not one word; no insinuating argument more, or soothing persuasion; you'll have need of all your rhetoric with her; go strive to alter her, not me; begone. [Retires to the end of the stage, and exit.
Fid.
Should I discover to him now my sex,
And lay before him his strange cruelty,
'Twould but incense it more.—No, 'tis not time.
For his love must I then betray my own?
Were ever love or chance till now severe?
Or shifting woman posed with such a task?
Forced to beg that which kills her, if obtained,
And give away her lover not to lose him! [Exit.
Enter Widow Blackacre, in the middle of half-a-dozen Lawyers, whispered to by a fellow in black, Jerry Blackacre following the crowd.
Wid. Offer me a reference, you saucy companion you! d'ye know who you speak to? Art thou a solicitor in chancery, and offer a reference? A pretty fellow! Mr. Serjeant Ploddon, here's a fellow has the impudence to offer me a reference!
Serj. Plod. Who's that has the impudence to offer a reference within these walls?
Wid. Nay, for a splitter of causes to do't!
Serj. Plod. No, madam; to a lady learned in the law, as you are, the offer of a reference were to impose upon you.
Wid. No, no, never fear me for a reference, Mr. Serjeant. But come, have you not forgot your brief? Are you sure you shan't make the mistake of—hark you—[Whispers.] Go then, go to your court of Common-pleas, and say one thing over and over again: you do it so naturally, you'll never be suspected for protracting time.