_She is discovered dressing, with_ Betty.
_Dia_. Methinks I'm up as early as if I had a mind to what I'm going to do, marry this rich old Coxcomb.
_Bet_. And you do well to lose no time.
_Dia_. Ah, Betty, and cou'd thy Prudence prefer an old Husband, because rich, before so young, so handsom, and so soft a Lover as _Wilding_?
_Bet_. I know not that, Madam; but I verily believe the way to keep your young Lover, is to marry this old one: for what Youth and Beauty cannot purchase, oney and Quality may.
_Dia_. Ay, but to be oblig'd to lie with such a Beast; ay, there's the Devil, _Betty_. Ah, when I find the difference of their Embraces, The soft dear Arms of _Wilding_ round my Neck.
From those cold feeble ones of this old Dotard; When I shall meet, instead of _Tom's_ warm kisses, A hollow Pair of thin blue wither'd Lips, Trembling with Palsy, stinking with Disease, By Age and Nature barricado'd up With a kind Nose and Chin; What Fancy or what Thought can make my Hours supportable?
_Bet_. What? why six thousand Pounds a Year, Mistress. He'll quickly die, and leave you rich, and then do what you please.
_Dia_. Die! no, he's too temperate--Sure these Whigs, _Betty_, believe there's no Heaven, they take such care to live so long in this World--No, he'll out-live me.
[_Sighs_.
_Bet_. In Grace a God he may be hang'd first, Mistress--Ha, one knocks, and I believe 'tis he.
[_She goes to open the Door_.
_Dia_. I cannot bring my Heart to like this Business; One sight of my dear _Tom_ wou'd turn the Scale.
_Bet_. Who's there?
_Enter Sir_ Tim. _joyful_; Dian. _walks away_.
Sir _Tim_. 'Tis I, impatient I, who with the Sun have welcom'd in the Day; This happy Day to be inroll'd In Rubrick Letters and in Gold.
--Hum, I am profoundly eloquent this Morning. [_Aside_.
--Fair Excellence, I approach-- [_Going toward her_.
_Dia_. Like Physick in a Morning next one's Heart; [_Aside_.
Which, though it be necessary, is most filthy loathsom.
[_Going from him_.
Sir _Tim_. What, do you turn away, bright Sun of Beauty?
--Hum, I'm much upon the Suns and Days this Morning.
_Dia_. It will not down.
[_Turning on him, looks on him, and turns away_.
Sir _Tim_. Alas, ye Gods, am I despis'd and scorn'd?
Did I for this ponder upon the Question, Whether I should be King or Alderman?
[_Heroickly_.
_Dia_. If I must marry him, give him Patience to endure the Cuckolding, good Heaven. [_Aside_.
Sir _Tim_. Heaven! did she name Heaven, Betty?
_Bet_. I think she did, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. I do not like that: What need has she to think of Heaven upon her Wedding-day?
_Dia_. Marriage is a sort of Hanging, Sir; and I was only making a short Prayer before Execution.
Sir _Tim_. Oh, is that all? Come, come, we'll let that alone till we're abed, that we have nothing else to do.
[_Takes her Hand_.
_Dia_. Not much, I dare swear.
Sir _Tim_. And let us, Fair one, haste; the Parson stays; besides, that heap of Scandal may prevent us--I mean, my Nephew.
_Dia_. A Pox upon him now for naming _Wilding_.
[_Weeps_.
Sir _Tim_. How, weep at naming my ungracious Nephew? Nay, then I am provok'd--Look on this Head, this wise and Reverend Head; I'd have ye know, it has been taken measure on to fit it to a Crown, d'ye see.
_Dia_. A Halter rather. [_Aside_.
Sir _Tim_. Ay, and it fits it too: and am I slighted, I that shall receive Billet-Doux from Infanta's? 'tis most uncivil and impolitick.
_Dia_. I hope he's mad, and then I reign alone. [_Aside_.
Pardon me, Sir, that parting Tear I shed indeed at naming _Wilding_, Of whom my foolish Heart has now ta'en leave, And from this Moment is intirely yours.
[_Gives him her Hand, they go out followed by_ Betty.
SCENE IV. _Changes to a Street_.
_Enter_ Charlot, _led by_ Foppington, _follow'd by Mrs_. Clacket.
_Char_. Stay, my Heart misgives me, I shall be undone.
--Ah, whither was I going?
[_Pulls her Hand from_ Fop.
_Fop_. Do, stay till the News arrives that he is married to her that had his Company to night, my Lady _Galliard_.
_Char_. Oh! Take heed lest you sin doubly, Sir.
_Fop_. By Heaven, 'tis true, he past the Night with her.
_Char_. All night! what cou'd they find to do?
Mrs. _Clack_. A very proper Question; I'll warrant you they were not idle, Madam.
_Char_. Oh, no; they lookt and lov'd and vow'd and lov'd, and swore eternal Friendship--Haste, haste, and lead me to the Church, the Altar; I'll put it past my Power to love him more.
_Fop_. Oh, how you charm me!
[_Takes her by the Hand_.