Luce. I am sorry, sir, I have lent so large an ear To such a bad discourse; and I protest After this hour never to do the like. I must confess, of all the gentlemen That ever courted me, you have possessed The best part in my thoughts: but this coarse language Exiles you quite from thence. Sir, had you come, Instead of changing this mine honest name Into a strumpet’s, to have honoured me With the chaste title of a modest wife, I had reserved an ear for all your suits; But since I see your rudeness finds no limit, I leave you to your lust. Young Chartley. You shall not, Luce. Luce. Then keep your tongue within more moderate bounds. Young Chartley. I will,--as I am virtuous, I will.--[_Aside_.] I told you the second word would be marriage. It makes a man forfeit his freedom, and makes him walk ever after with a chain at his heels, or a jackanapes hanging at his elbow. Marriage is like Dædalus’s labyrinth, and, being once in, there’s no finding the way out. Well, I love this little property most intolerably, and I must set her on the last, though it cost me all the shoes in my shop.--Well, Luce, thou seest my stomach is come down: thou hast my heart already; there’s my hand. Luce. But in what way? Young Chartley. Nay, I know not the way yet, but I hope to find it hereafter, by your good direction. Luce. I mean, in what manner? in what way? Young Chartley. In the way of marriage, in the way of honesty, in the way that was never gone yet. I hope thou art a maid, Luce? Luce. Yes, sir; and I accept it: in exchange Of this your hand, you shall receive my heart. Young Chartley. A bargain, and there’s earnest on thy lips. Luce. I’ll call my father, sir, to witness it. See, here he comes. _Enter_ Luce’s Father, _a plain_ Citizen. Young Chartley. Father, save you! You have happened of an untoward son-in-law; here I am, how do you like me? Luce’s Father. Sir, I was nearer than you were aware, And overheard both sum and circumstance. Young Chartley. [_Aside_.] Then I perceive you are an old eavesdropper.--But what do you think of it, father? Luce’s Father. I entertain the motion with all love, And I rejoice my daughter is preferred And raised to such a match; I heard the contract, And will confirm it gladly: but pray, sir, When shall the merry day be? Young Chartley. Marry, even to-morrow by that we can see: nay, we’ll lose no more time; I’ll take order for that. Luce. Stay but a month.