Isa.  ’Tis all one for that; I warrant you, he sells me the fee-simple of him.

Set.  Your father, madam—­

Enter NONSUCH.

Isa.  The tempest is risen; I see it in his face; he puffs and blows yonder, as if two of the winds were fighting upwards and downwards in his belly.

Set.  Will he not find your false keys, madam?

Isa.  I hope he will have more humanity than to search us.

Const.  You are come after us betimes, sir.

Non.  Oh child!  I am undone; I am robbed, I am robbed; I have utterly lost all stomach to my dinner.

Const.  Robbed! good my lord, how, or of what?

Non.  Two hundred and fifty pounds, in fair gold, out of my study:  An hundred of it I was to have paid a courtier this afternoon for a bribe.

Set.  I protest, my lord, I had as much ado to get that parcel of gold for your lordship—­

Non.  You must get me as much more against to-morrow; for then my friend at court is to pay his mercer.

Isa.  Nay, if that be all, there’s no such haste:  the courtiers are not so forward to pay their debts.

Const.  Has not the monkey been in the study?  He may have carried it away, and dropt it under the garden-window:  the grass is long enough to hide it.

Non.  I’ll go see immediately.

Enter FAILER, BURR, TIMOROUS.

Fail.  This is the gentleman, my lord.

Non.  He’s welcome.

Fail.  And this the particular of his estate.

Non.  That’s welcome too.

Fail.  But, besides the land here mentioned, he has wealth in specie.

Non.  A very fine young gentleman.

Tim.  Now, my lord, I hope there’s no great need of wooing:  I suppose my estate will speak for me; yet, if you please to put in a word—­

Non.  That will I instantly.

Tim.  I hope I shall have your good word, too, madam, to your cousin for me. [To ISABELLA.

Isa.  Any thing within my power, Sir Timorous.

Non.  Daughter, here’s a person of quality, and one, that loves and honours you exceedingly—­

Tim.  Nay, good my lord! you discover all at first dash.

Non.  Let me alone, sir; have not I the dominion over my own daughter?  Constance, here’s a knight in love with you, child.

Const.  In love with me, my lord! it is not possible.

Non.  Here he stands, that will make it good, child.

Tim.  Who, I, my lord?  I hope her ladyship has a better opinion of me than so.

Non.  What! are not you in love with my daughter?  I’ll be sworn you told me so but even now:  I’ll eat words for no man.

Tim.  If your ladyship will believe all reports, that are raised on men of quality—­