O. Bell. Harry, take this, and let your man carry it for me to Mr. Fourbes’s chamber, my lawyer, i’ the Temple.

Exit Young Bellair. [To Emilia.] Neighbour, adod, I am glad to see thee here; make much of her, sister, she’s one of the best of your acquaintance; I like her countenance and her behaviour well, she has a modesty that is not common i’ this age, adod, she has.

Lady Town. I know her value, brother, and esteem her accordingly.

O. Bell. Advise her to wear a little more mirth in her face, adod, she’s too serious.

Lady Town. The fault is very excusable in a young woman.

O. Bell. Nay, adod, I like her ne’er the worse, a melancholy beauty has her charms; I love a pretty sadness in a face which varies now and then, like changeable colours, into a smile.

Lady Town. Methinks you speak very feelingly, brother.

O. Bell. I am but five-and-fifty, sister, you know, an age not altogether insensible! [To Emilia.] Cheer up, sweetheart, I have a secret to tell thee may chance to make thee merry; we three will make collation together anon; i’ the meantime mum, I can’t abide you; go, I can’t abide you.

Enter Young Bellair. Harry, come, you must along with me to my Lady woodvil’s. I am going to slip the boy at a mistress.

Y. Bell. At a wife, sir, you would say.

O. Bell. You need not look so grum, sir; a wife is no curse when she brings the blessing of a good estate with her; but an idle town flirt, with a painted face, a rotten reputation, and a crazy fortune, adod, is the devil and all; and such a one I hear you are in league with

Y. Bell. I cannot help detraction, sir.

O. Bell. Out, a pise o’ their breeches, there are keeping fools enough for such flaunting baggages, and they are e’en too good for ’em. [To Emilia.] Remember night, go, you’re a rouge, you’re a rogue; fare you well, fare you well; come, come,come along, sir.

[Exeunt Old and Young Bellair.

Lady Town. On my word the old man comes on apace; I’ll lay my life he’s smitten.

Emil. This is nothing but the pleasantness of his humour.

Lady Town. I know him better than you; let it work, it may prove lucky.

Enter a Page.

Page. Madam, Mr. Medley has sent to know whether a visit will not be troublesome this afternoon?

Lady Town. Send him word his visits never are so.

[Exit Page.

Emil. He’s a very pleasant man.