_Wild_. Now for my angry Maid, the young _Charlot_; ’.will be a Task to soften her to Peace; She is all new and gay, young as the Morn, Blushing as tender Rose-Buds on their Stalks, Pregnant with Sweets, for the next Sun to ravish. --Come, thou shalt along with me, I’ll trust thy Friendship. [_Exeunt_. SCENE III. _Changes to_ Diana’s _Chamber_. _She is discovered dressing, with_ Betty. _Dia_. Methinks I’m up as early as if I had a mind to what I’m going to do, marry this rich old Coxcomb. _Bet_. And you do well to lose no time. _Dia_. Ah, Betty, and cou’d thy Prudence prefer an old Husband, because rich, before so young, so handsom, and so soft a Lover as _Wilding_? _Bet_. I know not that, Madam; but I verily believe the way to keep your young Lover, is to marry this old one: for what Youth and Beauty cannot purchase, oney and Quality may. _Dia_. Ay, but to be oblig’d to lie with such a Beast; ay, there’s the Devil, _Betty_. Ah, when I find the difference of their Embraces, The soft dear Arms of _Wilding_ round my Neck. From those cold feeble ones of this old Dotard; When I shall meet, instead of _Tom’s_ warm kisses, A hollow Pair of thin blue wither’d Lips, Trembling with Palsy, stinking with Disease, By Age and Nature barricado’d up With a kind Nose and Chin; What Fancy or what Thought can make my Hours supportable? _Bet_. What? why six thousand Pounds a Year, Mistress. He’ll quickly die, and leave you rich, and then do what you please. _Dia_. Die! no, he’s too temperate--Sure these Whigs, _Betty_, believe there’s no Heaven, they take such care to live so long in this World--No, he’ll out-live me. [_Sighs_. _Bet_. In Grace a God he may be hang’d first, Mistress--Ha, one knocks, and I believe ‘tis he. [_She goes to open the Door_. _Dia_. I cannot bring my Heart to like this Business; One sight of my dear _Tom_ wou’d turn the Scale. _Bet_. Who’s there? _Enter Sir_ Tim. _joyful_; Dian. _walks away_. Sir _Tim_. ‘Tis I, impatient I, who with the Sun have welcom’d in the Day; This happy Day to be inroll’d In Rubrick Letters and in Gold. --Hum, I am profoundly eloquent this Morning. [_Aside_. --Fair Excellence, I approach-- [_Going toward her_. _Dia_. Like Physick in a Morning next one’s Heart; [_Aside_. Which, though it be necessary, is most filthy loathsom. [_Going from him_. Sir _Tim_. What, do you turn away, bright Sun of Beauty? --Hum, I’m much upon the Suns and Days this Morning. _Dia_. It will not down. [_Turning on him, looks on him, and turns away_. Sir _Tim_. Alas, ye Gods, am I despis’d and scorn’d? Did I for this ponder upon the Question, Whether I should be King or Alderman? [_Heroickly_. _Dia_. If I must marry him, give him Patience to endure the Cuckolding, good Heaven. [_Aside_.