Flo.  There’s the more hope he may love me among the rest:  Hang it, I would not marry one of these solemn fops; they are good for nothing, but to make cuckolds.  Give me a servant, that is an high flier at all games, that is bounteous of himself to many women; and yet, whenever I pleased to throw out the lure of matrimony, should come down with a swing, and fly the better at his own quarry.

Fla.  But are you sure you can take him down when you think good?

Flo.  Nothing more certain.

Fla.  What wager will you venture upon the trial?

Flo.  Any thing.

Fla.  My maidenhead to yours.

Flo.  That’s a good one; who shall take the forfeit?

Fla.  I’ll go and write a letter, as from these two sisters, to summon him immediately; it shall be delivered before you.  I warrant, you see a strange combat betwixt the flesh and the spirit:  If he leaves you to go to them, you’ll grant he loves them better?

Flo.  Not a jot the more:  A bee may pick of many flowers, and yet like some one better than all the rest.

Fla.  But then your bee must not leave his sting behind him.

Flo.  Well; make the experiment however:  I hear him coming, and a whole noise of fidlers at his heels.  Hey-day, what a mad husband shall I have!—­

Enter CELADON.

Fla.  And what a mad wife will he have!  Well, I must go a little way, but I’ll return immediately, and write it:  You’ll keep him in discourse the while? [Exit FLA.

Cel.  Where are you, madam?  What, do you mean to run away thus?  Pray stand to’t, that we may despatch this business.

Flo.  I think you mean to watch me, as they do witches, to make me confess I love you.  Lord, what a bustle have you kept this afternoon?  What with eating, singing, and dancing, I am so wearied, that I shall not be in case to hear any more love this fortnight.

Cel.  Nay, if you surfeit on’t before trial, Lord have mercy upon you, when I have married you.

Flo.  But what king’s revenue, do you think, will maintain this extravagant expence?

Cel.  I have a damnable father, a rich old rogue, if he would once die!  Lord, how long does he mean to make it ere he dies!

Flo.  As long as ever he can, I’ll pass my word for him.

Cel.  I think, then, we had best consider him as an obstinate old fellow, that is deaf to the news of a better world; and ne’er stay for him.

Flo.  But e’en marry; and get him grandchildren in abundance, and great-grandchildren upon them, and so inch him and shove him out of the world by the very force of new generations—­if that be the way, you must excuse me.

Cel.  But dost thou know what it is to be an old maid?

Flo.  No, nor hope I shan’t these twenty years.