Enter one with a letter.

Cel.  To me?

Mess.  If your name be Celadon. [CEL. reads softly.

Flo.  He is swallowing the pill; presently we shall see the operation.

Cel. to the page.] Child, come hither, child; here’s money for thee:  So, begone quickly, good child, before any body examines thee:  Thou art in a dangerous place, child—­[Thrusts him out.] Very good; the sisters send me word, they will have the fiddles this afternoon, and invite me to sup there!—­Now, cannot I forbear, an I should be damned, tho’ I have scap’d a scouring so lately for it.  Yet I love Florimel better than both of them together; there’s the riddle on’t:  But only for the sweet sake of variety.—­[Aside.] Well, we must all sin, and we must all repent, and there’s an end on’t.

Flo.  What is it, that makes you fidge up and down so?

Cel.  ’Faith, I am sent for by a very dear friend, and ’tis upon a business of life and death.

Flo.  On my life, some woman?

Cel.  On my honour, some man; do you think I would lie to you?

Flo.  But you engaged to sup with me.

Cel.  But I consider it may be scandalous to stay late in your lodgings.  Adieu, dear miss!  If ever I am false to thee again!—­ [Exit CELADON.

Flo.  See what constant metal you men are made of!  He begins to
vex me in good earnest.  Hang him, let him go and take enough of ’em: 
And yet, methinks, I can’t endure he should neither.  Lord, that such a
mad-cap as I should ever live to be jealous!  I must after him. 
  Some ladies would discard him now, but I
  A fitter way for my revenge will find;
  I’ll marry him, and serve him in his kind.

[Exit FLO.

ACT IV.

SCENE I,—­The Walks.

MELISSA, after her OLINDA and SABINA.

Mel.  I must take this business up in time:  This wild fellow begins to haunt my house again.  Well, I’ll be bold to say it, ’tis as easy to bring up a young lion without mischief, as a maidenhead of fifteen, to make it tame for an husband’s bed.  Not but that the young man is handsome, rich, and young, and I could be content he should marry one of them; but to seduce them both in this manner:—­Well, I’ll examine them apart, and if I can find out which he loves, I’ll offer him his choice.—­Olinda, come hither, child.

Olin.  Your pleasure, madam?

Met.  Nothing but for your good, Olinda; what think you of Celadon?

Olin.  Why I think he’s a very mad fellow; but yet I have some obligements to him:  he teaches me new airs of the guitar, and talks wildly to me, and I to him.

Mel.  But tell me in earnest, do you think he loves you?

Olin.  Can you doubt it?  There were never two so cut out for one another; we both love singing, dancing, treats, and music.  In short, we are each other’s counterpart.