Mrs. _Clack_. Have I been the Confident to all your Secrets this three years, in Sickness and in Health, for richer, for poorer; conceal’d the Nature of your wicked Diseases, under the honest Name of Surfeits; call’d your filthy Surgeons, Mr. Doctor, to keep up your Reputation; civilly receiv’d your t’other end of the Town young Relations at all Hours-- _Wild_. High! Mrs. _Clack_. Been up with you, and down with you early and late, by Night and by Day; let you in at all Hours, drunk and sober, single and double; and civilly withdrawn, and modestly shut the Door after me? _Wild_. What! The Storm’s up, and the Devil cannot lay it. Mrs. _Clack_. And I am thus rewarded for my Pains! [_Weeps_. _Wild_. So Tempests are allay’d by Showers of Rain. Mrs. _Clack_. That I shou’d be charg’d with speaking ill of you, so honest, so civil a Gentleman-- _Charl_. No, I have better Witness of your Falshood. _Fop_. Hah, ‘Sdeath, she’ll name me! _Wild_. What mean you, my _Charlot_? Do you not think I love you? _Charl_. Go ask my Lady _Galliard_, she keeps the best Account of all your Sighs and Vows, And robs me of my dearest softer Hours. [_Kindly to him_. Mrs. _Clack_. You cannot hold from being kind to him. [_Aside_. _Wild. _Galliard_! How came she by that Secret of my Life? [_Aside_.] Why, ay, ‘tis true, I am there sometimes about an Arbitration, about a Suit in Law, about my Uncle. _Charl_. Ay, that Uncle too-- You swore to me you were your Uncle’s Heir; But you perhaps may chance to get him one, If the Lady prove not cruel. _Wild_. Death and the Devil, what Rascal has been prating to her! [_Aside_. _Charl_. Whilst I am reserv’d for a dead Lift, if Fortune prove unkind, or wicked Uncles refractory: Yet I cou’d love you though you were a Slave, [_In a soft Tone to him_. And I were Queen of all the Universe. Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, there you spoil’d all again--you forgot your self. _Charl_. And all the World when he looks kindly on me. But I’ll take Courage and be very angry. [_Aside_. Nor do your Perjuries rest here; you’re equally as false to _Galliard_, as to me; false for a little Mistress of the Town, whom you’ve set up in spite to Quality. [_Angry_. Mrs. _Clack_. So, that was home and handsom. _Wild_. What damn’d Informer does she keep in pension? _Charl_. And can you think my Fortune and my Youth Merits no better Treatment? [_Angry_. How cou’d you have the Heart to use me so? [_Soft to him_. I fall insensibly to Love and Fondness. [_Aside_. _Wild_. Ah, my dear _Charlot_! you who know my Heart, can you believe me false?