Will. Hold, hold, no
Bugg Words, Child, Priest and Hymen: prithee add Hangman to 'em to
make up the Consort- No, no, we'll have no Vows but Love, Child, nor
Witness but the Lover; the kind Diety injoins naught but love and
enjoy. Hymen and Priest wait still upon Portion, and Joynture; Love
and Beauty have their own Ceremonies. Marriage is as certain a Bane to
Love, as lending Money is to Friendship: I'll neither ask nor give a
Vow, tho I could be content to turn Gipsy, and become a Left-hand
Bridegroom, to have the Pleasure of working that great Miracle of
making a Maid a Mother, if you durst venture; 'tis upse Gipsy that,
and if I miss, I'll lose my Labour. Hell. And if you do not lose, what
shall I get? A Cradle full of Noise and Mischief, with a Pack of
Repentance at my Back? Can you teach me to weave Incle to pass my time
with? 'Tis upse Gipsy that too. Will. I can teach thee to weave a true
Love's Knot better. Hell. So can my Dog. Will. Well, I see we are both
upon our Guard, and I see there's no way to conquer good Nature, but
by yielding- here- give me thy Hand- one Kiss and I am thine- Hell.
One Kiss! How like my Page he speaks; I am resolv'd you shall have
none, for asking such a sneaking Sum- He that will be satisfied with
one Kiss, will never die of that Longing; good Friend single-Kiss, is
all your talking come to this? A Kiss, a Caudle! farewel, Captain
single-Kiss.
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