Sir Per.  Wha?  Constantia?

Bet.  Ay, Constantia, sir.—­Lord!  I can know the whole affair, sir, only for sending over to Hadley, to farmer Hilford’s youngest daughter, Sukey Hilford.

Sir Per.  Then send this instant and get me a particular account of it.

Bet.  That I will, sir.

Sir Per.  In the mean time, keep a strict watch upon Constantia,—­and be sure you bring me word of whatever new matter you can pick up about her, my son, or this Hadley husband or sweetheart.

Bet.  Never fear, sir. [Exit.

Sir Per.  This love of Sidney’s for Constantia is not unlikely.—­There is something promising in it.—­Yes!  I think it is nai impossible to convert it intill a special and immediate advantage.  It is but trying.  Wha’s there?—­If it misses, I am but where I was. [Enter Tomlins.] Where is Maister Sidney?

Tom.  In the dining room, Sir Pertinax.

Sir Per.  Tell him I wou’d speak with him. [Exit Tomlins.] ’Tis more than probable.—­Spare to speak and spare to speed.  Try—­try—­always try the human heart:—­try is as guid a maxim in politics as in war.—­Why, suppose this Sidney now shou’d be privy till his friend Charles’s love for Constantia.—­What then? guid traith, it is natural to think that his ain love will demand the preference,—­ay, and obtain it too.—­Yes, self—­self is an eloquent advocate on these occasions, and seldom loses his cause.  I have the general principle of human nature at least to encourage me in the experiment;—­for only make it a man’s interest to be a rascal, and I think we may safely depend upon his integrity—­in serving himself.

    Enter SIDNEY.

Sid.  Sir Pertinax, your servant.—­Mr. Tomlins told me you desired to speak with me.

Sir Per.  Yes, I wanted to speak with you upon a vary singular business.  Maister Sidney, give me your hand.—­Guin it did nai look like flattery, which I detest, I wou’d tell you, Maister Sidney, that you are an honour till your cloth, your country, and till human nature.

Sid.  Sir, you are very obliging.

Sir Per.  Sit you down, Maister Sidney:—­Sit you down here by me.  My friend, I am under the greatest obligations till you for the care you have taken of Charles.—­The principles—­religious, moral, and political—­ that you have infused intill him, demand the warmest return of gratitude both fra him and fra me.

Sid.  Your approbation, sir, next to that of my own conscience, is the best test of my endeavours, and the highest applause they can receive.

Sir Per.  Sir, you deserve it,—­richly deserve it.—­And now, sir, the same care that you have had of Charles,—­the same my wife has taken of her favourite Constantia.—­And sure, never were accomplishments, knowledge or principles, social and religious, infused intill a better nature.