Sir _Tim_. Make us thankful for that; our Meat will not lie upon our Hands then, _Jervice_: I’ll say that for our little Londoners, they are as tall Fellows at a well-charg’d Board as any in Christendom. _Jer_. Then, Sir, there’s Nonconformist-Parsons. Sir _Tim_. Nay, then we shall have a clear Board; for your true Protestant Appetite in a Lay-Elder, does a Man’s Table Credit. _Jer_. Then, Sir, there’s Country Justices and Grand-Jury-Men. Sir _Tim_. Well enough, well enough, _Jervice_. _Enter Mrs_. Sensure. _Sen_. An’t like your Worship, Mr. _Wilding_ is come in with a Lady richly drest in Jewels, mask’d, in his Hand, and will not be deny’d speaking with your Worship. Sir _Tim_. Hah, rich in Jewels! this must be she. My Sword again, _Jervice_.--Bring ‘em up, _Sensure_.--Prithee how do I look to Night, _Jervice_? [_Setting himself_. _Jer_. Oh, most methodically, Sir. _Enter_ Wild, _with_ Diana, _and_ Betty. _Wild_. Sir, I have brought into your kind protection the richest Jewel all London can afford, fair Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_. Sir _Tim_. Bless us, she’s ravishing fair! Lady, I had the honour of being intimate with your worthy Father. I think he has been dead-- _Dia_. If he catechize me much on that point, I shall spoil all. [_Aside_. Alas, Sir, name him not; for if you do, [_weeping_. I’m sure I cannot answer you one Question. _Wild_. For Heaven sake, Sir, name not her Father to her; the bare remembrance of him kills her. [_Aside to him_. Sir _Tim_. Alas, poor Soul! Lady, I beg your Pardon. How soft-hearted she is! I am in love; I find already a kind of tickling of I know not what, run frisking through my Veins. [_Aside_. _Bet_. Ay, Sir, the good Alderman has been dead this twelve-month just, and has left his Daughter here, my Mistress, three thousand Pound a Year. [_Weeping_. Sir _Tim_. Three thousand Pound a Year! Yes, yes, I am in love. [_Aside_. _Bet_. Besides Money, Plate, and Jewels. Sir _Tim_. I’ll marry her out of hand, [_Aside_.] Alas, I cou’d even weep too; but ‘tis in vain. Well, Nephew, you may be gone now; for ‘tis not necessary you shou’d be seen here, d’ye see. [_Pushing him out_. _Wild_. You see, Sir, now, what Heaven has done for me; and you have often told me, Sir, when that was kind you wou’d be so. Those Writings, Sir, by which you were so good to make me Heir to all your Estate, you said you wou’d put into my possession, whene’er I made it appear to you I could live without ‘em, or bring you a Wife of Fortune home. Sir _Tim_. And I will keep my word; ‘tis time enough. [_Putting him out_.