_Wild_. My leud Debauches, and being o’th’ wrong Party, as he calls it, is now become an _irreconcilable_ Quarrel, so that I having many and hopeful Intrigues now depending, especially those of my charming Widow, and my City-Heiress, which can by no means be carried on without that damn’d necessary call’d ready Mony; I have stretcht my Credit, as all young Heirs do, till ‘tis quite broke. New Liveries, Coaches, and Clothes must be had, they must, my Friend. _Dres_. Why do’st thou not in this Extremity clap up a Match with my Lady _Galliard_? or this young Heiress you speak of? _Wild_. But Marriage, _Frank_, is such a Bugbear! And this old Uncle of mine may one day be gathered together, and sleep with his Fathers, and then I shall have six thousand Pound a Year, and the wide World before me; and who the Devil cou’d relish these Blessings with the clog of a Wife behind him?--But till then, Money must be had, I say. _Fop_. Ay, but how, Sir? _Wild_. Why, from the old Fountain, _Jack_, my Uncle; he has himself decreed it: He tells me I must live upon my Wits, and will, _Frank_. _Fop_. Gad, I’m impatient to know how. _Wild_. I believe thee, for thou art out at Elbows; and when I thrive, you show it i’th’ Pit, behind the Scenes, and at Coffee-houses. Thy Breeches give a better account of my Fortune, than Lilly with all his Schemes and Stars. _Fop_. I own I thrive by your influence, Sir. _Dres_. Well, but to your Project, Friend, to which I’ll set a helping Hand, a Heart, a Sword, and Fortune. _Wild_. You make good what my Soul conceives of you. Let’s to _Diana_ then, and there I’ll tell thee all. [_Going out, they meet_ Diana, _who enters with her Maid_ Betty, _and Boy, looks angrily_. --_Diana_, I was just going to thy Lodgings! _Dia_. Oh, las, you are too much taken up with your rich City-Heiress. _Wild_. That’s no cause of quarrel between you and I, _Diana_: you were wont to be as impatient for my marrying, as I for the Death of my Uncle; for your rich Wife ever obliges her Husband’s Mistress; and Women of your sort, _Diana_, ever thrive better by Adultery than Fornication. _Dia_. Do, try to appease the easy Fool with these fine Expectations--No, I have been too often flatter’d with the hopes of your marrying a rich Wife, and then I was to have a Settlement; but instead of that, things go backward with me, my Coach is vanish’d, my Servants dwindled into one necessary Woman and a Boy, which to save Charges, is too small for any Service; my twenty Guineas a Week, into forty Shillings; a hopeful Reformation! _Wild_. Patience, _Diana_, things will mend in time.