La Nu. He speaks
not of me; sure he knows me not. [Aside. Will. No, Child, Money 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? Lu. 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, 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.
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