Isa.  When he comes, uncle, pray cover your great belly with your hat, that he may not see it.

Non.  It goes against my heart to marry her to this Loveby; but, what must be, must be.

Enter LOVEBY.

Const.  O, Mr Loveby!  The welcomest man alive!  You met Setstone, I hope, that you came so opportunely?

Lov.  No, faith, madam; I came of my own accord.

Isa.  ’Tis unlucky; he’s not prepared.

Lov.  Look you, madam, I have brought the hundred pounds; the devil was as punctual as three o’ clock at a playhouse.  Here; ’tis right, I warrant it, without telling:  I took it upon his word.

[Gives it.

Const.  Your kindness shall be requited, servant:  But I sent for you upon another business.  Pray, cousin, tell it him, for I am ashamed to do’t.

Lov.  Ha! ’tis not that great belly, I hope.  Is’t come to that?

Isa.  Hark you, Mr Loveby; a word with you.

Lov.  A word with you, madam:  Whither is your cousin bound?

Isa.  Bound, sir?

Lov.  Ay, bound:  Look you, she’s under sail, with a lusty fore-wind.

Non.  I sent for you, sir; but, to be plain with you, ’twas more out of necessity than love.

Lov.  I wonder, my lord, at your invincible ill-nature.  You forget the arrest, that I passed by:  But this it is to be civil to unthankful persons; ’tis feeding an ill-natured dog, that snarls while he takes victuals from your hand.

Non.  All friends! all friends!  No ripping up old stories; you shall have my daughter.

Lov.  Faith, I see your lordship would let lodgings ready furnished; but I am for an empty tenement.

Non.  I had almost forgot my own great belly.  If he should discover that too! [Claps his hat before it.

Isa. [To Lov.] You will not hear me, sir.  ’Tis all roguery, as I live.

Lov.  Flat roguery, I’ll swear!  If I had been father on’t, nay, if I had but laid my breeches upon the bed, I would have married her:  But I see we are not ordained for one another.

[Is going.

Non.  I beseech you, sir.

Lov.  Pray cover, my lord.

Isa.  He does his great belly, methinks.

Non.  I’ll make it up in money to you.

Lov.  That cannot tempt me.  I have a friend, that shall be nameless, that will not see me want; and so, your servant.

[Exit LOVEBY.

Isa.  I’ll after, and bring him back.

Non.  You shall not stir after him;—­Does he scorn my daughter?

Isa.  Lord, how fretful you are!  This breeding makes you so peevish, uncle.

Non.  ’Tis no matter, she shall straight be married to Sir Timorous.