CYNT. My mind gives me it won't, because we are both willing. We each
of us strive to reach the goal, and hinder one another in the race. I
swear it never does well when the parties are so agreed; for when people
walk hand in hand there's neither overtaking nor meeting. We hunt in
couples, where we both pursue the same game but forget one another; and
'tis because we are so near that we don't think of coming together.

MEL. Hum, 'gad I believe there's something in it. Marriage is the game
that we hunt, and while we think that we only have it in view, I don't
see but we have it in our power.

CYNT. Within reach; for example, give me your hand. You have looked
through the wrong end of the perspective all this while, for nothing has
been between us but our fears.

MEL. I don't know why we should not steal out of the house this very
moment and marry one another, without consideration or the fear of
repentance. Pox o' fortune, portion, settlements, and jointures.

CYNT. Ay, ay, what have we to do with 'em? You know we marry for love.

MEL. Love, love, downright, very villainous love.

CYNT. And he that can't live upon love deserves to die in a ditch. Here
then, I give you my promise, in spite of duty, any temptation of wealth,
your inconstancy, or my own inclination to change--

MEL. To run most wilfully and unreasonably away with me this moment and
be married.

CYNT. Hold. Never to marry anybody else.

MEL. That's but a kind of negative consent. Why, you won't baulk the
frolic?

CYNT. If you had not been so assured of your own conduct I would not.
But 'tis but reasonable that since I consent to like a man without the
vile consideration of money, he should give me a very evident
demonstration of his wit: therefore let me see you undermine my Lady
Touchwood, as you boasted, and force her to give her consent, and then--

MEL. I'll do't.

CYNT. And I'll do't.

MEL. This very next ensuing hour of eight o'clock is the last minute of
her reign, unless the devil assist her _in propria persona_.

CYNT. Well, if the devil should assist her, and your plot miscarry--

MEL. Ay, what am I to trust to then?

CYNT. Why, if you give me very clear demonstration that it was the
devil, I'll allow for irresistible odds. But if I find it to be only
chance, or destiny, or unlucky stars, or anything but the very devil, I'm
inexorable: only still I'll keep my word, and live a maid for your sake.

MEL