Will. I grant ye, before I was a Lover I ran at random, but I'll
take up now, be a patient Man, and keep to one Woman a Month. Aria. A
Month! Will. And a fair Reason, Child; time was, I wou'd have worn one
Shirt, or one pair of Shoos so long as have let the Sun set twice upon
the same Sin: but see the Power of Love; thou hast bewitched me,
that's certain. Aria. Have a care of giving me the ascendent over ye,
for fear I make ye marry me. Will. Hold, I bar that cast, Child; no,
I'm none of those Spirits that can be conjur'd into a Wedding-ring,
and dance in the dull matrimonial Circle all my Days. Aria. But what
think you of a hundred thousand Crowns, and a Beauty of sixteen? Will.
As of most admirable Blessings: but harkye, Child, I am plaguily
afraid thou'rt, some scurvy honest thing of Quality by these odd
Questions of thine, and hast some wicked Design upon my Body. Aria.
What, to have and to hold I'll warrant.- No Faith, Sir, Maids of my
Quality expect better Jointures than a Buff-coat, Scarf and Feather:
such Portions as mine are better Ornaments in a Family than a Captain
and his Commission. Will. Why well said, now thou hast explain'd thy
self like a Woman of Honour- Come, come, let's away. Aria. Explain my
self! How mean ye? Will. -Thou say'st I am not fit to marry thee- and
I believe this Assignation was not made to tell me so, nor yet to hear
me whistle to the Birds.
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