_SirPer_. Sir, her father had a vast estate; the which he dissipated and melted in feastings, and friendships, and charities, hospitalities, and sic kind of nonsense.--But to the business.--Maister Sidney, I love you,-- yes,--I love you,--and I have been looking out and, contriving how to settle you in the world.--Sir, I want to see you comfortably and honourably fixt at the head of a respectable family,--and guin you were mine ain son, a thousand times,--I cou'd nai make a more valuable present till you for that purpose, as a partner for life, than this same Constantia,--with sic a fortune down with her as you yourself shall deem to be competent,--and an assurance of every canonical contingency in my power to confer or promote. _Sid_. Sir, your offer is noble and friendly:--but tho' the highest station would derive lustre from Constantia's charms and worth, yet, were she more amiable than love could paint her in the lover's fancy,--and wealthy beyond the thirst of the miser's appetite,--I could not--would not wed her. [_Rises._ _Sir Per_. Not wed her! odswunds, man! you surprise me!--Why so?--what hinders? _Sid_. I beg you will not ask a reason for my refusal,--but, briefly and finally--it cannot be; nor is it a subject I can longer converse upon. _Sir Per_. Weel, weel, weel, sir, I have done,--I have done.--Sit down, man;--sit down again;--sit you down.--I shall mention it no more;--not but I must confess honestly till you, friend Sidney, that the match, had you approved of my proposal, besides profiting you, wou'd have been of singular service till me likewise.--However, you may still serve me as effectually as if you had married her. _Sid_. Then, sir, I am sure I will most heartily. _Sir Per_. I believe it, friend Sidney,--and I thank you.--I have nai friend to depend upon, but yourself. My heart is almost broke.--I cannot help these tears,--And, to tell you the fact at once--your friend Charles is struck with a most dangerous malady,--a kind of insanity.--You see I cannot help weeping when I think of it;--in short this Constantia, I am afraid, has cast an evil eye upon him.--Do you understand me? _Sid._ Not very well, sir. _Sir Per._ Why, he is grievously smitten with the love of her;--and, I am afraid, will never be cured without a little of your assistance. _Sid._ Of my assistance! pray, sir, in what manner? _Sir Per._ In what manner? Lord, Maister Sidney, how can you be so dull? Why, how is any man cured of his love till a wench, but by ganging to bed till her? Now do you understand me? _Sid._ Perfectly, sir--perfectly.