Act 5 — SCENE III. Changes to Diana’s Chamber.

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.