Heart. ’Tis easier to think what will not become on’t.

Con. What’s that?

Heart. A challenge. I know the knight too well for that; his dear body will always prevail upon his noble soul to be quiet.

Con. But though he dare not challenge me, perhaps he may venture to challenge his wife.

Heart. Not if you whisper him in the ear, you won’t have him do’t; and there’s no other way left that I see. For, as drunk as he was, he’ll remember you and I were where we should not be; and I don’t think him quite blockhead enough yet, to be persuaded we were got into his wife’s closet only to peep into her prayer book.

Enter a Servant, with a letter.

Serv. Sir, here’s a letter: a porter brought it.

Con. Oh, ho! here’s instructions for us. [Reads] “The accident that has happened has touched our invention to the quick. We would fain come off without your help, but find that’s impossible. In a word, the whole business must be thrown upon a matrimonial intrigue between your friend and mine; but if the parties are not fond enough to go quite through with the matter, ’tis sufficient for our turn, they own the design. We’ll find pretences enough to break the match. Adieu!” — Well, women for invention! How long would my block head have been producing this, eh! Heartfree? What, musing, man? Pr’ythee, be cheerful. What sayest thou, friend, to this matrimonial remedy?

Heart. Why, I say, it’s worse than the disease.

Con. Here’s a fellow for you! There’s beauty and money on her side, and love up to the ears on his; and yet—

Heart. And yet, I think, I may reasonably be allowed to boggle at marrying the niece, in the very moment that you are deluding the aunt.

Con. Why, truly, there may be something in that. But have not you a good opinion enough of your own parts, to believe you could keep a wife to yourself?

Heart. I should have, if I had a good opinion enough of hers, to believe she could do as much by me. But, pr’ythee, advise me in this good and evil, this life and death, this blessing and curse, that is set before me. Shall I marry, or die a maid?

Con. Why ’faith, Heartfree, matrimony is like an army going to engage: love’s the forlorn hope, which is soon cut off; the marriage knot is the main body, which may stand buff a long time; and repentance is the rear guard, which rarely gives ground as long as the main body has a being.

Heart. Conclusion, then; you advise me to rake on as you do.

Con. That’s not concluded yet; for, though marriage be a lottery, in which there are wondrous many blanks, yet there is one inestimable lot in which the only heaven on earth is written. Would your kind fate but guide your hand to that, though I were wrapped in all that luxury itself could clothe me with, I should envy you.

Heart. And justly, too; for to be capable of loving one, doubtless, is better than to possess a thousand; but how far that capacity’s in me, alas! I know not.

Con. But you would know?