He has not been awake to.

Con. [Without.] Neighbour Wildrake!

Sir Wil. Hither they come. I fancy well thy game!
O to be free to marry Widow Green!
I'll call her hence anon--then ply him well.

[SIR WILLIAM goes out.]

Wild. [Without.] Nay, neighbour Constance!

True. He is high in storm.

[Enter WILDRAKE and CONSTANCE.]

Wild. To Lincolnshire, I tell thee.

Con. Lincolnshire!
What, prithee, takes thee off to Lincolnshire?

Wild. Too great delight in thy fair company.

True. Nay, Master Wildrake, why away so soon?
You are scarce a day in town!--Extremes like this,
And starts of purpose, are the signs of love.
Though immatured as yet. [Aside.]

Con. He's long enough
In town! What should he here? He's lost in town: