_W. Green_. I would he had the gout, And kept his room! [Aside.]--You're welcome, dear Sir William! 'Tis very, very kind of you to call. Sir William Fondlove--Master Waller. Pray Be seated, gentlemen.--He shall requite me For his untimely visit. Though the nail Be driven home, it may want clinching yet To make the hold complete! For that, I'll use him.--[Aside.] You're looking monstrous well, Sir William! and No wonder. You're a mine of happy spirits! Some women talk of such and such a style Of features in a man. Give me good humour; That lights the homeliest visage up with beauty, And makes the face, where beauty is already, Quite irresistible! _Sir Wil_. That's hitting hard. [Aside.] Dear Widow Green, don't say so! On my life You flatter me. You almost make me blush. _W. Green_. I durst not turn to Master Waller now, Nor need I. I can fancy how he looks! I warrant me he scowls on poor Sir William, As he could eat him up. I must improve His discontent, and so make sure of him.--[Aside.] I flatter you, Sir William! O, you men! You men, that talk so meek, and all the while Do know so well your power! Who would think You had a marriageable daughter! You Did marry very young. _Sir Wil_. A boy!--a boy! Who knew not his own mind. _W. Green_. Your daughter's twenty. Come, you at least were twenty when you married; That makes you forty. _Sir Wil_. O dear! Widow Green. _W. Green_. Not forty? _Sir Wil_. You do quite embarrass me! I own I have the feelings of a boy, The freshness and the glow of spring-time, yet,-- The relish yet for my young schooldays' sports; Could whip a top--could shoot at taw--could play At prison-bars and leapfrog--so I might-- Not with a limb, perhaps, as supple, but With quite as supple will. Yet I confess To more than forty! _W. Green_. Do you say so? Well, I'll never guess a man's age by his looks Again.--Poor Master Waller! He must writhe To hear I think Sir William is so young. I'll turn his visit yet to more account.--[Aside.] A handsome ring, Sir William, that you wear! _Sir Wil_. Pray look at it. _W. Green_. The mention of a ring Will take away his breath. _Wal_. She must be mine Whate'er her terms! [Aside.] _W. Green_. I'll steal a look at him! _Wal_. What! though it be the ring?--the marriage ring? If that she sticks at, she deserves to wear it! Oh, the debate which love and prudence hold! [Aside.] _W. Green_. How highly he is wrought upon! His hands Are clenched!--I warrant me his frame doth shake! Poor Master Waller! I have filled his heart Brimful with passion for me. The delight Of proving thus my power! _Sir Wil_. Dear Widow Green!-- She hears not! How the ring hath set her thinking! I'll try and make her jealous. [Aside.]--Widow Green! _W. Green_. Sir William Fondlove! _Sir Wil_. Would you think that ring Could tell a story? _W. Green_. Could it? Ah, Sir William, I fear you are a rogue. _Sir Wil_. O no! _W. Green_. You are!