ACT II. SCENE I.

_Enter Lady_ DUPE, _and Mrs_ CHRISTIAN.

_Chr._ It happened, madam, just as you said it would; but was he so concerned for my feigned sickness?

_L. Dupe._ So much, that Moody and his daughter, our new guests, take notice of the trouble; but the cause was kept too close for strangers to divine.

_Chr._ Heaven grant he be but deep enough in love, and then----

_L. Dupe._ And then thou shalt distil him into gold, my girl. Yonder he comes, I'll not be seen: you know your lesson, child. [_Exit._

_Chr._ I warrant you.

_Enter Lord_ DARTMOUTH.

_Lord._ Pretty mistress Christian, how glad am I to meet you thus alone!

_Chr._ O the father! what will become of me now?

_Lord._ No harm, I warrant you; but why are you so afraid?

_Chr._ A poor weak innocent creature as I am, heaven of his mercy, how I quake and tremble! I have not yet clawed off your last ill usage, and now I feel my old fit come again; my ears tingle already, and my back shuts and opens; ay, just so it began before.

_Lord._ Nay, my sweet mistress, be not so unjust to suspect any new attempt: I am too penitent for my last fault, so soon to sin again. I hope you did not tell it to your aunt.

_Chr._ The more fool I, I did not.

_Lord._ You never shall repent your goodness to me; but may not I presume there was some little kindness in it, which moved you to conceal my crime?

_Chr._ Methought I would not have mine aunt angry with you, for all this earthly good; but yet I'll never be alone with you again.

_Lord._ Pretty innocence! let me sit nearer to you: You do not understand what love I bear you. I vow it is so pure, my soul's not sullied with one spot of sin: Were you a sister, or a daughter to me, with a more holy flame I could not burn.

_Chr._ Nay, now you speak high words; I cannot understand you.

_Lord._ The business of my life shall be but how to make your fortune, and my care and study to advance and see you settled in the world.

_Chr._ I humbly thank your lordship.

_Lord._ Thus I would sacrifice my life and fortunes, and in return you cruelly destroy me.

_Chr._ I never meant you any harm, not I.

_Lord._ Then what does this white enemy so near me? [_Touching her hand gloved._] Sure 'tis your champion, and you arm it thus to bid defiance to me.

_Chr._ Nay, fie, my lord! In faith, you are to blame. [_Pulling her hand away._

_Lord._ But I am for fair wars; an enemy must first be searched for privy armour, ere we do engage. [_Pulls at her glove._

_Chr._ What does your lordship mean?

_Lord._ I fear you bear some spells and charms about you, and, madam, that's against the law of arms.

_Chr._ My aunt charged me not to pull off my glove, for fear of sun-burning my hand.

_Lord._ She did well to keep it from your eyes, but I will thus preserve it. [_Hugging her bare hand._

_Chr._ Why do you crush it so? nay, now you hurt me, nay--if you squeeze it ne'er so hard--there's nothing to come out on't--fie--is this loving one--what makes you take your breath so short?

_Lord._ The devil take me if I can answer her a word; all my senses are quite employed another way.

_Chr._ Ne'er stir, my lord, I must cry out.

_Lord._ Then I must stop your mouth--this ruby for a kiss--that is but one ruby for another.

_Chr._ This is worse and worse.

_Lady within._ Why, niece, where are you, niece?

_Lord._ Pox of her old mouldy chops.

_Chr._ Do you hear, my aunt calls? I shall be hanged for staying with you--let me go, my lord. [_Gets from him._

_Enter Lady_ DUPE.

_L. Dupe._ My lord! heaven bless me, what makes your lordship here?

_Lord._ I was just wishing for you, madam; your niece and I have been so laughing at the blunt humour of your country-gentleman. I must go pass an hour with him. [_Exit_ LORD.

_Chr._ You made a little too much haste; I was just exchanging a kiss for a ruby.

_L. Dupe._ No harm done; it will make him come on the faster: Never full gorge an hawk you mean to fly: The next will be a necklace of pearl, I warrant you.

_Chr._ But what must I do next?

_L. Dupe._ Tell him I grew suspicious, and examined you whether he made not love; which you denied. Then tell him how my maids and daughters watch you; so that you tremble when you see his lordship.

_Chr._ And that your daughters are so envious, that they would raise a false report to ruin me.

_L. Dupe._ Therefore you desire his lordship, as he loves you, of which you are confident, henceforward to forbear his visits to you.

_Chr._ But how, if he should take me at my word?

_L. Dupe._ Why, if the worst come to the worst, he leaves you an honest woman, and there's an end on't: But fear not that; hold out his messages, and then he'll write, and that is it, my bird, which you must drive it to: Then all his letters will be such ecstasies, such vows and promises, which you must answer short and simply, yet still ply out of them your advantages.

_Chr._ But, madam! he's in the house, he will not write.

_L. Dupe._ You fool--he'll write from the next chamber to you; and, rather than fail, send his page post with it, upon a hobby-horse: Then grant a meeting, but tell me of it, and I'll prevent him by my being there; he'll curse me, but I care not. When you are alone, he'll urge his lust, which answer you with scorn and anger.

_Chr._ As thus an't please you, madam. What! Does he think I will be damn'd for him? Defame my family, ruin my name, to satisfy his pleasure?

_L. Dupe._ Then he will be profane in his arguments, urge nature's laws to you.

_Chr._ By'r lady, and those are shrewd arguments; but I am resolved I'll stop my ears.

_L. Dupe._ Then when he sees no other thing will move you, he'll sign a portion to you beforehand: Take hold of that, and then of what you will. [_Exeunt._