Volume Ii Part 63 (1/2)

Sir _Tim_. Yes, yes, Madam, there are honest, discreet, religious, and true Protestant Knights in the City, that wou'd be proud to dignify and distinguish so worthy a Gentlewoman.

[Bowing and smiling.

_Bet_. Look to your hits, and take fortune by the forelock, Madam.

[_Aside_.

--Alas, Madam, no Knight, and poor too!

Sir _Tim_. As a Tory Poet.

_Bet_. Well, Madam, take Comfort; if the worst come to the worst, you have Estate enough for both.

_Dia_. Ay, Betty, were he but honest, Betty.

[_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. Honest! I think he will not steal; but for his Body, the Lord have mercy upon't, for he has none.

_Dia_. 'Tis evident, I am betray'd, abus'd; H'as lookt and sigh'd, and talkt away my Heart; H'as sworn, and vow'd, and flatter'd me to ruin.

[_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. A small fault with him; he has flatter'd and sworn me out of many a fair Thousand: why, he has no more Conscience than a Politician, nor no more Truth than a Narrative (under the Rose).

_Dia_. Is there no Truth nor Honesty i'th' World?

Sir _Tim_. Troth, very little, and that lies all i'th' City amongst us sober Magistrates.

_Dia_. Were I a Man, how wou'd I be reveng'd!

Sir _Tim_. Your Ladys.h.i.+p might do it better as you are were I worthy to advise you.

_Dia_. Name it.

Sir _Tim_. Why, by marrying your Ladys.h.i.+p's most a.s.sur'd Friend, and most humble Servant, _Timothy Treat-all_ of London, Alderman.

[_Bowing_.

_Bet_. Ay, this is something, Mistress; here's Reason.

_Dia_. But I have given my Faith and Troth to _Wilding, Betty_.

Sir _Tim_. Faith and Troth! We stand upon neither Faith nor Troth in the City, Lady. I have known an Heiress married and bedded, and yet with the Advice of the wiser Magistrates, has been unmarried and consummated anew with another, so it stands with our Interest: 'tis Law by Magna Charta.

Nay, had you married my ungracious Nephew, we might by this our Magna Charta have hang'd him for a Rape.

_Dia_. What, though he had my Consent?

Sir _Tim_. That's nothing, he had not ours.

_Dia_. Then shou'd I marry you by stealth, the Danger wou'd be the same.

Sir _Tim_. No, no, Madam, we never accuse one another; 'tis the poor Rogues, the Tory Rascals we always hang. Let 'em accuse me if they please; alas, I come off hand-smooth with Ignoramus.