_Wild_. So, she sees me. Now for an Art to make her lure me up: for though I have a greater mind than she, it shall be all her own; the Match she told me of this Morning with my Uncle, sticks plaguily upon my Stomach; I must break the Neck on’t, or break the Widow’s Heart, that’s certain. If I advance towards the Door now, she frowningly retires; if I pass on, ‘tis likely she may call me. [_Advances_. L. _Gal_. I think he’s passing on, Without so much as looking towards the Window. _Clos_. He’s glad of the excuse of being forbidden. L. _Gal_. But, Closet, know’st thou not he has abus’d my Fame, And does he think to pass thus unupbraided? Is there no Art to make him look this way? No Trick--Prithee feign to laugh. [Clos. _laughs_. _Wild_. So, I shall not answer to that Call. L. _Gal_. He’s going! Ah, Closet, my Fan!-- [_Lets fall her Fan just as he passes by; he takes it up, and looks up_. Cry mercy, Sir, I am sorry I must trouble you to bring it. _Wild_. Faith, so am I; and you may spare my Pains, and send your Woman for’t, I’m in haste. L. _Gal_. Then the quickest way will be to bring it. [_Goes out of the Balcony with_ Closet. _Wild_. I knew I should be drawn in one way or other. SCENE III. _Changes to a Chamber_. _Enter L_. Galliard, Wilding, Closet. _To them_ Wilding, _delivers the Fan, and is retiring_. L. _Gal_. Stay, I hear you’re wondrous free of your Tongue, when ‘tis let loose on me. _Wild_. Who, I, Widow? I think of no such trifles. L. _Gal_. Such Railers never think when they’re abusive; but something you have said, a Lye so infamous! _Wild_. A Lye, and infamous of you! impossible! What was it that I call’d you, Wise or Honest? L. _Gal_. How can you accuse me with the want of either? _Wild_. Yes, of both: Had you a grain of Honesty, or intended ever to be thought so, wou’d you have the impudence to marry an old Coxcomb, a Fellow that will not so much as serve you for a Cloke, he is so visibly and undeniably impotent? L. _Gal_. Your Uncle you mean. _Wild_. I do, who has not known the Joy of Fornication this thirty Year, and now the Devil and you have put it into his Head to marry, forsooth. Oh, the Felicity of the Wedding-Night! L. _Gal_. Which you, with all your railing Rhetorick, shall not have power to hinder. _Wild_. Not if you can help it; for I perceive you are resolved to be a leud incorrigible Sinner, and marry’st this seditious doting Fool my Uncle, only to hang him out for the sign of the Cuckold, to give notice where Beauty is to be purchas’d, for fear otherwise we should mistake, and think thee honest. L. _Gal_. So much for my want of Honesty; my Wit is the part of the Text you are to handle next. _Wild_. Let the World judge of that by this one Action: This Marriage undisputably robs you both of your Reputation and Pleasure. Marry an old Fool, because he’s rich! when so many handsome proper younger Brothers wou’d be glad of you.