LAET. No, no, you are weary of me, that's it--that's all, you would get another wife--another fond fool, to break her heart--Well, be as cruel as you can to me, I'll pray for you; and when I am dead with grief, may you have one that will love you as well as I have done: I shall be contented to lie at peace in my cold grave--since it will please you. [_Sighs_.] FOND. Good lack, good lack, she would melt a heart of oak--I profess I can hold no longer. Nay, dear Cocky--ifeck, you'll break my heart--ifeck you will. See, you have made me weep--made poor Nykin weep. Nay, come kiss, buss poor Nykin--and I won't leave thee--I'll lose all first. LAET. [_Aside_.] How! Heaven forbid! that will be carrying the jest too far indeed. FOND. Won't you kiss Nykin? LAET. Go, naughty Nykin, you don't love me. FOND. Kiss, kiss, ifeck, I do. LAET. No, you don't. [_She kisses him_.] FOND. What, not love Cocky! LAET. No-h. [_Sighs_.] FOND. I profess I do love thee better than five hundred pound--and so thou shalt say, for I'll leave it to stay with thee. LAET. No you sha'n't neglect your business for me. No, indeed, you sha'n't, Nykin. If you don't go, I'll think you been dealous of me still. FOND. He, he, he, wilt thou, poor fool? Then I will go, I won't be dealous. Poor Cocky, kiss Nykin, kiss Nykin, ee, ee, ee. Here will be the good man anon, to talk to Cocky and teach her how a wife ought to behave herself. LAET. [_Aside_.] I hope to have one that will show me how a husband ought to behave himself. I shall be glad to learn, to please my jewel. [_Kiss_.] FOND. That's my good dear. Come, kiss Nykin once more, and then get you in. So--get you in, get you in. Bye, bye. LAET. Bye, Nykin. FOND. Bye, Cocky. LAET. Bye, Nykin. FOND. Bye, Cocky, bye, bye. SCENE V. VAINLOVE, SHARPER. SHARP. How! Araminta lost! VAIN. To confirm what I have said, read this. [_Gives a letter_.] SHARP. [_Reads_.] Hum, hum! And what then appeared a fault, upon reflection seems only an effect of a too powerful passion. I'm afraid I give too great a proof of my own at this time. I am in disorder for what I have written. But something, I know not what, forced me. I only beg a favourable censure of this and your ARAMINTA. SHARP. Lost! Pray heaven thou hast not lost thy wits. Here, here, she's thy own, man, signed and sealed too. To her, man--a delicious melon, pure and consenting ripe, and only waits thy cutting up: she has been breeding love to thee all this while, and just now she's delivered of it. VAIN. 'Tis an untimely fruit, and she has miscarried of her love. SHARP. Never leave this damned ill-natured whimsey, Frank? Thou hast a sickly, peevish appetite; only chew love and cannot digest it.