ly, you know, to-day!--
She still doth bear him hard, I see! The girl
Affects him not, and Trueworth is at fault,
Though clear it is that he doth die for her. [Aside.]
Well, daughter?--So I see you're ready too.

[Enter CONSTANCE.]

Why, what's amiss with thee?

_Phoebe_. [Entering.] The coach is here.

_Sir Wil_. Come, Wildrake, offer her your arm.

_Con_. [To WILDRAKE.] I thank you!
I am not an invalid!--can use my limbs!
He knows not how to make an arm, befits
A lady lean upon.

_Sir Wil_. Why, teach him, then.

_Con_. Teach him! Teach Master Wildrake! Teach, indeed!
I taught my dog to beg, because I knew
That he could learn it.

_Sir Wil_. Peace, thou little shrew!
I'll have no wrangling on my wedding-day!
Here, take my arm.

_Con_. I'll not!--I'll walk alone!
Live, die alone! I do abominate
The fool and all his sex!

_Sir Wil_. Again!

_Con_. I have done.
When do you marry, Master Wildrake? She
Will want a husband goes to church with thee!

[They go out.]

SCENE II.--Widow Green's Dressing-room.

[WIDOW GREEN discovered at her Toilet, attended by AMELIA, WALLER'S
Letter to LYDIA in her hand.]

_W. Green_. Oh, bond of destiny!--Fair bond, that seal'st
My fate in happiness! I'll read thee yet
Again--although thou'rt written on my heart.
But here his hand, indicting thee, did lie!
And this the tracing of his fingers! So
I read thee that could rhyme thee, as my prayers!
"At morn to-morrow I will make you mine.
Will you accept from me the name of wife--
The name of husband give me in exchange?"
The traitress! to break ope my billet-doux,
And take the envelope!--But I forgive her,
Since she did leave the rich contents behind.
Amelia, give this feather more a slope,
That it sit droopingly. I would look all
Dissolvement, nought about me to bespeak
Boldness! I would appear a timid bride,
Trembling upon the verge of wifehood, as
I ne'er before had stood there! That will do.
Oh dear!--How I am agitated--don't
I look so? I have found a secret out,--
Nothing in woman strikes a man so much
As to look interesting! Hang this cheek
Of mine! It is too saucy; what a pity
To have a colour of one's own!--Amelia!
Could you contrive, dear girl, to bleach my cheek,
How I would thank you! I could give it then
What tint I chose, and that should be the hectic
Bespeaks a heart in delicate commotion.
I am much too florid! Stick a rose in my hair,
The brightest you can find,