Olin.  Sweet sir,—­

Sab.  Sister, you forget, my mother bid you make haste.

Olin.  Well, go you, and tell her I am coming.

Sab.  I can never endure to be the messenger of ill news; but, if you please, I’ll send her word you won’t come.

Olin.  Minion, minion, remember this—­[Exit OLIN.

Sab.  She’s horribly in love with you.

Cel.  Lord, who could love that walking steeple!  She’s so high, that every time she sings to me, I am looking up for the bell that tolls to church.—­Ha! give me my little fifth-rate, that lies so snug.  She! hang her, a Dutch-built bottom:  She’s so tall, there’s no boarding her.  But we lose time—­madam, let me seal my love upon your mouth. [Kiss] Soft and sweet, by heaven! sure you wear rose-leaves between your lips.

Sab.  Lord, Lord, what’s the matter with me! my breath grows so short, I can scarce speak to you.

Cel.  No matter, give me thy lips again, and I’ll speak for thee.

Sab.  You don’t love me—­

Cel.  I warrant thee; sit down by me, and kiss again,—­She warms faster than Pygmalion’s image. [Aside]—­[Kiss.]—­Ay marry, sir, this was the original use of lips; talking, eating, and drinking came in by and by.

Sab.  Nay, pray be civil; will you be at quiet?

Cel.  What, would you have me sit still, and look upon you, like a little puppy-dog, that’s taught to beg with his fore-leg up?

Enter FLORIMEL.

Flo.  Celadon the faithful! in good time, sir,—­

Cel.  In very good time, Florimel; for heaven’s sake, help me quickly.

Flo.  What’s the matter?

Cel.  Do you not see? here’s a poor gentlewoman in a swoon!  (Swoon away.) I have been rubbing her this half hour, and cannot bring her to her senses.

Flo.  Alas! how came she so?

Cel.  Oh barbarous! do you stay to ask questions? run, for charity.

Flo.  Help, help! alas! poor lady—­[Exit FLO.

Sab.  Is she gone?

Cel.  Ay, thanks be to my wit, that helped me at a pinch; I thank heaven, I never pumpt for a lye in all my life yet.

Sab.  I am afraid you love her, Celadon!

Cel.  Only as a civil acquaintance, or so; but, however, to avoid slander, you had best be gone before she comes again.

Sab.  I can find a tongue as well as she.

Cel.  Ay, but the truth is, I am a kind of scandalous person, and for you to be seen in my company—­stay in the walks, by this kiss I’ll be with you presently.

Enter FLORIMEL running.

Flo.  Help, help!—­I can find nobody.

Cel.  Tis needless now, my dear; she’s recovered, and gone off; but so wan and weakly,—­