_Do_. You have made ill use of your time, Sir _Francis_; I know not how to helpe you. Seaven yeare hence You may have such an other oportunitie. _La_. Watch if my husband come not this way, _Dorothy_. --Well, sir, though your transgresse deserve no pardon, Yet I am charitable upon Condition-- _Fra_. Anything, Madam. This shewes exlent in you; No pennance shall displease so you absolve me. Bid me to clime some Rock or Pyramide, Upon whose narrow spire you have advanc'd My peace, and I will reach it or else fall, Lost to the world in my attempt. _La_. You speake Gloriously; the condition that assures Your pardon, 's only this--that you conclude Here all your loose desires with a resolve Never to prosecute or hope to enjoy me. _Fra_. Call you this Charity? let me rather loose Your pardon then for ever to be thus forfeited; Bind me never to see you (and yet that Were cruelty) then charme me to forgett That I am man or have a hart, and you A beauty, which your absence can as well Make nothing as devide from my adoring. It is not cure but killing to prescribe I never must enjoy you. If you have Resolv'd a Death upon me, let it bee When we like Lovers have embrac'd-- _La_. It is not possible. _Fra_. Nothing in love Can be impossible to willing mindes. Ile tell you, Madam--(sure the Divell has Forsworne the flesh)--there may be a plot. I have it! An exelent rare devise, if you but favour it. Your husband is imediately for _London_, I must in modesty ride with him; you Are left behind. _La_. How can that profitt you? _Do_.--What a deale of submission these foolish men Trouble us women with, that are more forward To be friends agen then they are! _Fra_. I will counterfeit a fall. _La_. A fall? _Fra_. I, from my horse; observe me, then-- _Do_.--My confederate, I hope, by this time is at gate Enquiring for Sir _Richard_ very formally From the old knight, his Master, and good Ladie. The fellow has witt to manage it. _Fra_. My footman shall pretend himselfe the Surgeon To attend me; is't not rare? Stand but to'th fate of this, and if it faile I will sitt downe a Convert and renounce All wanton hope hereafter. Deerest Madam, If you did meane before this honour to me, Let not your loving thoughts freeze in a Minuit. My genius is a prophet. _Do_. Sir _Richard_, Madam, Is comeing this way. _Fra_. Shall I hope agen? _La_. I wo'not say you shall despaire. _Fra_. You blesse me. [_Exit_. _Do_. My busines is a foote; your Jewell, Madam, Will credit much the cause. _La_. Wee will withdraw And let me know how you have cast the plott. [_Exeunt_. (SCENE 3.) _Enter Sir Richard, opening a Letter; a Footman waiting_. _Ri_. From thy Master? his name? _Foo_. Sir _Walter Littleland_. _Ri_. I doe not know him. _Foo_. His name is well knowne in _Lincolnsheire_ neere the fenns: there were his family antient gentlemen before the Conquest; some say ever since the flood. _Ri_. _Littleland_!