_Charl_. Enough, I’ve heard enough of _Wilding’s_ Vices, to know I am undone. [_Weeps_. --_Galliard_ his Mistress too? I never saw her, but I have heard her fam’d for Beauty, Wit, and Fortune: That Rival may be dangerous. _Fop_. Yes, Madam, the fair, the young, the witty Lady _Galliard_, even in the height of his Love to you; nay, even whilst his Uncle courts her for a Wife, he designs himself for a Gallant. _Charl_. Wondrous Inconstancy and Impudence! Mrs. _Clack_. Nay, Madam, you may rely upon Mr. _Foppington’s_ Information; therefore if you respect your Reputation, retreat in time. _Charl_. Reputation! that I forfeited when I ran away with your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_. Mrs. _Clack_. Ah, that ever I shou’d live to see [_Weeps_] the sole Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, ran away with one of the leudest Heathens about Town! _Charl_. How, your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, a Heathen; and with you too, Mrs. _Clacket_! that Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, who thought none so worthy as Mrs. _Clacket_, to trust with so great a Secret as his flight with me; he a Heathen! Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, and a poor Heathen too, Madam. ‘Slife, if you must marry a Man to buy him Breeches, marry an honest Man, a Religious Man, a Man that bears a Conscience, and will do a Woman some Reason--Why, here’s Mr. _Foppington_, Madam; here’s a Shape, here’s a Face, a Back as strait as an Arrow, I’ll warrant. _Charl_. How! buy him Breeches! Has _Wilding_ then no Fortune? _Fop_. Yes, Faith, Madam, pretty well; so, so, as the Dice run; and now and then he lights upon a Squire, or so, and between fair and foul Play, he makes a shift to pick a pretty Livelihood up. _Charl_. How! does his Uncle allow him no present Maintenance? _Fop_. No, nor future Hopes neither: Therefore, Madam, I hope you will see the Difference between him and a Man of Parts, that adores you. [Smiling and bowing. _Charl_. If I find all this true you tell me, I shall know how to value my self and those that love me.--This may be yet a Rascal. _Enter Maid_. _Maid_. Mistress, Mr. _Wilding’s_ below. [_Exit_. _Fop_. Below! Oh, Heaven, Madam, do not expose me to his Fury, for being too zealous in your Service. [_In great Disorder_. _Charl_. I will not let him know you told any thing, Sir. _Fop_. Death! to be seen here, would expose my Life. [_To_ Clacket. Mrs. _Clack_. Here, here, step out upon the Stair-case, and slip into my Chamber. [_Going out, returns in fright_. _Fop_. Owns, he’s here; lock the Door fast; let him not enter.