Sir Wil. I can’t tell that; ’tis like I may, and ’tis like I may not. I am somewhat dainty in making a resolution,—because when I make it I keep it. I don’t stand shill I, shall I, then; if I say’t, I’ll do’t: But I have thoughts to tarry a small matter in town, to learn somewhat of your lingo first, before I cross the seas. I’d gladly have a spice of your French as they say, whereby to hold discourse in foreign countries.

Mrs. Mar. Here’s an academy in town for that use.

Sir Wil. There is? ’Tis like there may.

Mrs. Mar. No doubt you will return very much improved.

Wit. Yes, refined like a Dutch skipper from a whale-fishing.

SCENE XVI

[To them] Lady Wishfort and Fainall.

Lady. Nephew, you are welcome.

Sir Wil. Aunt, your servant.

Fain. Sir Wilfull, your most faithful servant.

Sir Wil. Cousin Fainall, give me your hand.

Lady. Cousin Witwoud, your servant; Mr. Petulant, your servant—nephew, you are welcome again. Will you drink anything after your journey, nephew, before you eat? Dinner’s almost ready.

Sir Wil. I’m very well I thank you, aunt—however, I thank you for your courteous offer. ’Sheart, I was afraid you would have been in the fashion too, and have remembered to have forgot your relations. Here’s your Cousin Tony, belike, I mayn’t call him brother for fear of offence.

Lady. O he’s a rallier, nephew—my cousin’s a wit; and your great wits always rally their best friends to chuse. When you have been abroad, nephew, you’ll understand raillery better.

[Fain. and Mrs. Marwood talk apart.

Sir Wil. Why then let him hold his tongue in the meantime; and rail when that day comes.

SCENE XVII

[To them] Mincing.

Minc. Mem, I come to acquaint your laship that dinner is impatient.

Sir Wil. Impatient? Why then belike it won’t stay ’till I pull off my boots. Sweetheart, can you help me to a pair of slippers?—My man’s with his horses, I warrant.

Lady. Fie, fie, nephew, you would not pull off your boots here—go down into the hall—dinner shall stay for you.—My nephew’s a little unbred, you’ll pardon him, madam—Gentlemen, will you walk? Marwood?

Mrs. Mar. I’ll follow you, madam,—before Sir Wilfull is ready.

SCENE XVIII

Marwood, Fainall.