Heart. I would so.

Con. Matrimony will inform you. Come, one flight of resolution carries you to the land of experience; where, in a very moderate time, you’ll know the capacity of your soul and your body both, or I’m mistaken.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.—Sir JOHN BRUTE’S

Enter Lady BRUTE and BELINDA.

Bel. Well, madam, what answer have you from them?

Lady B. That they’ll be here this moment. I fancy ’twill end in a wedding: I’m sure he’s a fool if it don’t. Ten thousand pounds, and such a lass as you are, is no contemptible offer to a younger brother.

Enter CONSTANT and HEARTFREE. Good morrow, gentlemen; how have you slept after your adventure?

Heart. Some careful thoughts, ladies, on your accounts, have kept us waking.

Bel. And some careful thoughts on your own, I believe, have hindered you from sleeping. Pray how does this matrimonial project relish with you?

Heart. Why, ’faith, e’en as storming towns does with soldiers, where the hopes of delicious plunder banishes the fear of being knocked on the head.

Bel. Is it, then, possible, after all, that you dare think of downright lawful wedlock?

Heart. Madam, you have made me so foolhardy, I dare do anything.

Bel. Then, sir, I challenge you, and matrimony’s the spot where I expect you.

Heart. ’Tis enough; I’ll not fail. [Aside.] So, now I am in for Hobbes’s voyage; a great leap in the dark.

Lady B. Well, gentlemen, this matter being concluded, then, have you got your lessons ready? for Sir John is grown such an atheist of late, he’ll believe nothing upon easy terms.

Con. We’ll find means to extend his faith, madam. But, pray, how do you find him this morning?

Lady B. Most lamentably morose; chewing the cud after last night’s discovery; of which, however, he has but a confused notion, even now. But I’m afraid the valet de chambre has told him all; for they are very busy together at this moment. When I told him of Belinda’s marriage, I had no other answer but a grunt; from which you may draw what conclusion you think fit.—But to your notes, gentlemen; he’s here.

Enter Sir JOHN BRUTE and RAZOR.

Con. Good morrow, sir.

Heart. Good morrow, Sir John; I’m very sorry my indiscretion should cause so much disorder in your family.

Sir J. Disorders generally come from indiscretion, sir; ’tis no strange thing at all.

Lady B. I hope, my dear, you are satisfied there was no wrong intended you.

Sir J. None, my dove.