'twill help, my girl,
Subdue my rebel colour--Nay, the rose
Doth lose complexion, not my cheek! Exchange it
For a carnation. That's the flower, Amelia!
You see how it doth triumph o'er my cheek.
Are you content with me?

_Amelia_. I am, my lady.

_W. Green_. And whither think you has the hussy gone,
Whose place you fill so well?--Into the country?
Or fancy you she stops in town?

_Amelia_. I can't
Conjecture.

_W. Green_. Shame upon her!--Leave her place
Without a moment's warning!--with a man, too!
Seemed he a gentleman that took her hence?

_Amelia_. He did.

_W. Green_. You never saw him hero before?

_Amelia_. Never.

_W. Green_. Not lounging on the other side
Of the street, and reconnoitring the windows?

_Amelia_. Never.

_W. Green_. 'Twas planned by letter. Notes, you know,
Have often come to her--But I forgive her,
Since this advice she chanced to leave behind
Of gentle Master Waller's wishes, which
I bless myself in blessing!--Gods, a knock!
'Tis he! Show in those ladies are so kind
To act my bridemaids for me on this brief
And agitating notice.

[AMELIA goes out.]

Yes, I look
A bride sufficiently! And this the hand
That gives away my liberty again.
Upon my life it is a pretty hand,
A delicate and sentimental hand!
No lotion equals gloves; no woman knows
The use of them that does not sleep in them!
My neck hath kept its colour wondrously!
Well; after all it is no miracle
That I should win the heart of a young man.
My bridemaids come!--Oh dear!

[Enter two Ladies.]

First Lady. How do you, love? A good morning to you--Poor dear,
How much you are affected! Why we thought
You ne'er would summon us.

_W. Green_. One takes, you know,
When one is flurried, twice the time to dress.
My dears, has either of you salts? I thank you!
They are excellent; the virtue's gone from mine,
Nor thought I of renewing them--Indeed,
I'm unprovided, quite, for this affair.

_First Lady_. I think the bridegroom's come!

_W. Green_. Don't say so! How
You've made my heart jump!

_First Lady_. As you sent for us,
A new-launched carriage drove up to the door;
The servants all in favours.

_W. Green_. 'Pon my life,
I never shall get through it; lend me your hand.

[Half rises, and throws herself back on her chair again.]

I must sit down again! There came just now
A feeling like to swooning over me.
I am sure before 'tis over I shall make
A fool of myself! I vow I thou