Wid. Won't you speak? Where were you, I say, you son of a—an unfortunate woman?—O, major, I'm undone! They are all that concern my estate, my jointure, my husband's deed of gift, my evidences for all my suits now depending! What will become of them?
Free. [Aside.] I'm glad to hear this.—[Aloud.] They'll be all safe, I warrant you, madam.
Wid. O where? where? Come, you villain, along with me, and show me where. [Exeunt Widow Blackacre, Jerry, and Oldfox.
Man. Thou hast taken the right way to get a widow, by making her great boy rebel; for when nothing will make a widow marry, she'll do it to cross her children. But canst thou in earnest marry this harpy, this volume of shrivelled blurred parchments and law, this attorney's desk?
Free. Ay, ay; I'll marry and live honestly, that is, give my creditors, not her, due benevolence,—pay my debts.
Man. Thy creditors, you see, are not so barbarous as to put thee in prison; and wilt thou commit thyself to a noisome dungeon for thy life? which is the only satisfaction thou canst give thy creditors by this match.
Free. Why, is not she rich?
Man. Ay; but he that marries a widow for her money, will find himself as much mistaken as the widow that marries a young fellow for due benevolence, as you call it.
Free. Why, d'ye think I shan't deserve wages? I'll drudge faithfully.
Man. I tell thee again, he that is the slave in the mine has the least propriety in the ore. You may dig, and dig; but if thou wouldst have her money, rather get to be her trustee than her husband; for a true widow will make over her estate to anybody, and cheat herself rather than be cheated by her children or a second husband.