oney speaks sense in a Language all Nations
understand, 'tis Beauty, Wit, Courage, Honour, and undisputable
Reason-- see the virtue of a Wager, that new philosophical way lately
found out of deciding all hard Questions-- _Socrates_, without ready
Money to lay down, must yield.

_Aria._ Well, I must have this gallant Fellow. [Aside.

_La Nu._ Sure he has forgot this trival thing.

_Will._ --Even thou-- who seest me dying unregarded, wou'd then be fond
and kind, and flatter me.
[_Soft tone._ By Heaven, I'll hate thee then; nay, I will marry to
be rich to hate thee: the worst of that, is but to suffer nine Days
Wonderment. Is not that better than an Age of Scorn from a proud
faithless Beauty?

_La Nu._ Oh, there's Resentment left-- why, yes faith, such a Wedding
would give the Town diversion: we should have a lamentable Ditty made on
it, entitled, The Captain's Wedding, with the doleful Relation of his
being over-laid by an o'er-grown Monster.

_Will._ I'll warrant ye I escape that as sure as cuckolding; for I would
fain see that hardy Wight that dares attempt my Lady Bright, either by
Force or Flattery.

_La Nu._ So, then you intend to bed her?

_Will._ Yes faith, and beget a Race of Heroes, the Mother's Form with
all the Father's Qualities.

_La Nu._ Faith, such a Brood may prove a pretty Livelihood for a poor
decay'd Officer; you may chance to get a Patent to shew 'em in
_England_, that Nation of Change and Novelty.

_Will._ A provision old _Carlo_ cannot make for you against the
abandon'd day.

_La Nu._ He can supply the want of Issue a better way; and tho he be not
so fine a fellow as your self, he's a better Friend, he can keep a
Mistress: give me a Man can feed and clothe me, as well as hug and all
to bekiss me, and tho his Sword be not so good as yours, his Bond's
worth a thousand Captains. This will not do, I'll try what Jealousy will
do. [Aside.] Your Servant, Captain-- your Hand, Sir.
[Takes _Ariadne_ by the Hand.

_Will._ Hah, what new Coxcomb's that-- hold, Sir--
[Takes her from him.

_Aria._ What would you, Sir, ought with this Lady?

_Will._ Yes, that which thy Youth will only let thee guess at-- this--
Child, is Man's Meat; there are other Toys for Children.
[Offers to lead her off.

_La Nu._ Oh insolent! and whither would'st thou lead me?

_Will._ Only out of harm's way, Child, here are pretty near Conveniences
within: the Doctor will be civil-- 'tis par