_Con_. I'll pine to death for no man! Wise it were, Indeed, to die for neighbour Wildrake--No!-- I know the duty of a woman, better-- What fits a maid of spirit! I am out Of patience with myself, to cast a thought Away upon him. Hang him! Lovers cost Nought but the pains of luring. I'll get fifty, And break the heart of every one of them! I will! I'll be the champion of my sex, And take revenge on shallow, fickle man, Who gives his heart to fools, and slights the worth Of proper women! I suppose she's handsome! My face 'gainst hers, at hazard of mine eyes! A maid of mind! I'll talk her to a stand, Or tie my tongue for life! A maid of soul! An artful, managing, dissembling one! Or she had never caught. Him!--he's no man To fall in love himself, or long ago I warrant he had fall'n in love with me! I hate the fool--I do! Ha, here he comes. What brings him hither? Let me dry my eyes; He must not see I have been crying. Hang him, I have much to do, indeed, to cry for him! [Enter WILDRAKE] _Wild_. Your servant, neighbour Constance. _Con_. Servant, sir! Now what, I wonder, comes the fool to say, Makes him look so important? _Wild_. Neighbour Constance, I am a happy man. _Con_. What makes you so? _Wild_. A thriving suit. _Con_. In Chancery? _Wild_. Oh, no! In love. _Con_. Oh, true! You are in love! Go on! _Wild_. Well, as I said, my suit's a thriving one. _Con_. You mean you are beloved again!--I don't Believe it. _Wild_. I can give you proof. _Con_. What proof? Love letters? She's a shameless maid To write them! Can she spell? Ay, I suppose With prompting of a dictionary! _Wild_. Nay, Without one. _Con_. I will lay you ten to one She cannot spell! How know you she can spell? You cannot spell yourself! You write command With a single M--C-O-M-A-N-D: Yours to Co-mand. _Wild_. I did not say she wrote Love letters to me. _Con_. Then she suffers you to press Her hand, perhaps? _Wild_. She does. _Con_. Does she press yours? _Wild_. She does.--It goes on swimmingly! [Aside.] _Con_. She does! She is no modest woman! I'll be bound, Your arm the madam suffers round her waist? _Wild_. She does! _Con_. She does! Outrageous forwardness! Does she let you kiss her? _Wild_. Yes. _Con_. She should be-- _Wild_. What? _Con_. What you got thrice your share of when at school, And yet not half your due! A brazen face! More could not grant a maid about to wed. _Wild_. She is so. _Con_. What? _Wild_. How swimmingly it goes! [Aside.] _Con_. [With suppressed impatience.] Are you about to marry, neighbour Wildrake? Are you about to marry? _Wild_. Excellent. [Aside.] _Con_. [Breaking out.] Why don't you answer me? _Wild_. I am. _Con_. You are-- I tell you what, sir--You're a fool! _Wild_. For what?