Chapter 50

_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_.

Sir _Tim_. Heaven! did she name Heaven, Betty?

_Bet_. I think she did, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. I do not like that: What need has she to think of Heaven upon her Wedding-day?

_Dia_. Marriage is a sort of Hanging, Sir; and I was only making a short Prayer before Execution.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, is that all? Come, come, we’ll let that alone till we’re abed, that we have nothing else to do. [_Takes her Hand_.

_Dia_. Not much, I dare swear.

Sir _Tim_. And let us, Fair one, haste; the Parson stays; besides, that heap of Scandal may prevent us--I mean, my Nephew.

_Dia_. A Pox upon him now for naming _Wilding_. [_Weeps_.

Sir _Tim_. How, weep at naming my ungracious Nephew? Nay, then I am provok’d--Look on this Head, this wise and Reverend Head; I’d have ye know, it has been taken measure on to fit it to a Crown, d’ye see.

_Dia_. A Halter rather. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, and it fits it too: and am I slighted, I that shall receive Billet-Doux from Infanta’s? ‘tis most uncivil and impolitick.

_Dia_. I hope he’s mad, and then I reign alone. [_Aside_. Pardon me, Sir, that parting Tear I shed indeed at naming _Wilding_, Of whom my foolish Heart has now ta’en leave, And from this Moment is intirely yours.

[_Gives him her Hand, they go out followed by_ Betty.