For e'er I saw Mr. _Bellmour_, you spoke the kindest things of him, As would have mov'd the dullest Maid to love; And e'er I saw him, I was quite undone.
_Nur_. Quite undone! Now God forbid it; what, for loving?
You said but now there was no Life without it.
_Cel_. But since my Brother came from _Italy_, And brought young _Bellmour_ to our House, How very little thou hadst said of him!
How much above thy Praise, I found the Youth!
_Nur_. Very pretty! You are grown a notable Proficient in Love--And you are resolv'd (if he please) to marry him?
_Cel_. Or I must die.
_Nur_. Ay, but you know the Lord _Plotwell_ has the Possession of all his Estate, and if he marry without his liking, has Power to take away all his Fortune, and then I think it were not so good marrying him.
_Cel_. Not marrying him! Oh, canst thou think so poorly of me?
Yes, I would marry him, though our scanty Fortune Cou'd only purchase us A lonely Cottage, in some silent Place, All cover'd o'er with Thatch, Defended from the Outrages of Storms By leafless Trees, in Winter; and from Heat, With Shades, which their kind Boughs wou'd bear anew; Under whose Covert we'd feed our gentle Flock, That shou'd in gratitude repay us Food, And mean and humble Clothing.
_Nur_. Very fine!
_Cel_. There we wou'd practise such degrees of Love, Such lasting, innocent, unheard of Joys, As all the busy World should wonder at, And, amidst all their Glories, find none such.
_Nur_. Good lack! how prettily Love teaches his Scholars to prattle.-- But hear ye, fair Mrs. _Celinda_, you have forgot to what end and purpose you came to Town; not to marry Mr. _Bellmour_, as I take it--but Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_, that Spark of Men.
_Cel_. Oh, name him not--Let me not in one Moment Descend from Heaven to Hell-- How came that wretched thing into thy Noddle?
_Nur_. Faith, Mistress, I took pity of thee, I saw you so elevated with Thoughts of Mr. _Bellmour_, I found it necessary to take you down a degree lower.
_Cel_. Why did not Heaven make all Men like lo _Bellmour_?
So strangely sweet and charming!
_Nur_. Marry come up, you speak well for your self; Oh intolerable loving Creature!
But here comes the utmost of your Wishes.
_Cel_. My Brother, and _Bellmour_! with strange Men!
_Enter_ Friendlove, Bellmour, _Sir_ Timothy, Sham, _and_ Sharp.
_Friend_. Sister, I've brought you here a Lover, this is the worthy Person you have heard of, Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_.
Sir _Tim_. Yes, faith, Madam, I am Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_, at your Service--Pray are not you Mrs. _Celinda Dresswell_?
_Cel_. The same, but cannot return your Compliment.
Sir _Tim_. Oh Lord, oh Lord, not return a Compliment. Faith, _Ned_, thy Sister's quite spoil'd, for want of Town-Education; 'tis pity, for she's devilish pretty.
_Friend_. She's modest, Sir, before Company; therefore these Gentlemen and I will withdraw into the next Room.
_Cel_. Inhuman Brother! Will you leave me alone with this Sot?
_Friend_. Yes, and if you would be rid of the trouble of him, be not coy, nor witty; two things he hates.
_Bel_. 'Sdeath! Must she be blown upon by that Fool?
_Friend_. Patience, dear _Frank_, a little while.
[_Exeunt_ Friend. Bell. Sham _and_ Sharp.
[Sir Timothy _walks about the Room, expecting when_ Celinda _should speak_.
_Cel_. Oh, dear Nurse, what shall I do?
_Nur_. I that ever help you at a dead Lift, will not fail you now.
Sir _Tim_. What a Pox, not a Word?
_Cel_. Sure this Fellow believes I'll begin.
Sir _Tim_. Not yet--sure she has spoke her last--
_Nur_. The Gentleman's good-natur'd, and has took pity on you, and will not trouble you, I think.
Sir _Tim_.--Hey day, here's Wooing indeed--Will she never begin, trow?
--This some would call an excellent Quality in her Sex--But a pox on't, I do not like it--Well, I see I must break Silence at last--Madam--not answer me--'shaw, this is mere ill breeding--by Fortune--it can be nothing else--O' my Conscience, if I should kiss her, she would bid me stand off--I'll try--
_Nur_. Hold, Sir, you mistake your Mark.
Sir _Tim_. So I should, if I were to look in thy mouldy Chaps, good Matron--Can your Lady speak?
_Nur_. Try, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. Which way?
_Nur_. Why, speak to her first.
Sir _Tim_. I never knew a Woman want a Cue for that; but all that I Have met with were still before-hand with me in tittle tattle.
_Nur_. Likely those you have met with may, but this is no such Creature, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. I must confess, I am unus'd to this kind of Dialogue; and I am an Ass, if I know what to say to such a Creature.
--But come, will you answer me to one Question?
_Cel_. If I can, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. But first I should ask you if you can speak? For that's a Question too.
_Cel_. And if I cannot, how will you be answer'd?
Sir _Tim_. Faith, that's right; why, then you must do't by signs.
_Cel_. But grant I can speak, what is't you'll ask me?