Isa. [Reads.] These for Madam Isabella.  Dear rogue, Sir Timorous knows nothing of our kindness, nor shall for me; seem still to have designs upon him; it will hide thy affection the better to thy servant, BURR.

Isa.  Alas, poor woodcock, dost thou go a-birding?  Thou hast e’en set a springe to catch thy own neck.  Look you here, Sir Timorous; here’s something to confirm what I have told you. [Gives him the letter.

Tim.  D, e, a, r, dear; r, o, g, u, e, rogue.  Pray, madam, read it; this written hand is such a damned pedantic thing, I could never away with it.

Isa.  He would fain have robbed you of me:  Lord, Lord! to see the malice of a man.

Tim.  She has persuaded me so damnably, that I begin to think she’s my mistress indeed.

Isa.  Your mistress? why, I hope you are not to doubt that, at this time of day.  I was your mistress from the first day you ever saw me.

Tim.  Nay, like enough you were so; but I vow to gad now, I was wholly ignorant of my own affection.

Isa.  And this rogue pretends he has an interest in me, merely to defeat you:  Look you, look you, where he stands in ambush, like a Jesuit behind a Quaker, to see how his design will take.

Tim.  I see the rogue:  Now could I find in my heart to marry you in spite to him; what think you on’t, in a fair way?

Isa.  I have brought him about as I could wish; and now I’ll make my own conditions. [Aside.] Sir Timorous, I wish you well; but he I marry must promise me to live at London:  I cannot abide to be in the country, like a wild beast in the wilderness, with no Christian soul about me.

Tim.  Why, I’ll bear you company.

Isa.  I cannot endure your early hunting-matches there; to have my sleep disturbed by break of day, with heigh, Jowler, Jowler! there Venus, ah Beauty! and then a serenade of deep-mouthed curs, to answer the salutation of the huntsman, as if hell were broke loose about me:  and all this to meet a pack of gentlemen savages, to ride all day, like mad-men, for the immortal fame of being first in at the hare’s death:  to come upon the spur, after a trial at four in the afternoon, to destruction of cold meat and cheese, with your lewd company in boots; fall a-drinking till supper time, be carried to bed, tossed out of your cellar, and be good for nothing all the night after.

Tim.  Well, madam, what is it you would be at? you shall find me reasonable to all your propositions.

Isa.  I have but one condition more to add; for I will be as reasonable as you; and that is a very poor request—­to have all the money in my disposing.

Tim.  How, all the money?

Isa.  Ay, for I am sure I can huswife it better for your honour; not but that I shall be willing to encourage you with pocket-money, or so, sometimes.