_Bet_. Well, Madam, take Comfort; if the worst come to the worst, you have Estate enough for both. _Dia_. Ay, Betty, were he but honest, Betty. [_Weeping_. Sir _Tim_. Honest! I think he will not steal; but for his Body, the Lord have mercy upon’t, for he has none. _Dia_. ‘Tis evident, I am betray’d, abus’d; H’as lookt and sigh’d, and talkt away my Heart; H’as sworn, and vow’d, and flatter’d me to ruin. [_Weeping_. Sir _Tim_. A small fault with him; he has flatter’d and sworn me out of many a fair Thousand: why, he has no more Conscience than a Politician, nor no more Truth than a Narrative (under the Rose). _Dia_. Is there no Truth nor Honesty i’th’ World? Sir _Tim_. Troth, very little, and that lies all i’th’ City amongst us sober Magistrates. _Dia_. Were I a Man, how wou’d I be reveng’d! Sir _Tim_. Your Ladyship might do it better as you are were I worthy to advise you. _Dia_. Name it. Sir _Tim_. Why, by marrying your Ladyship’s most assur’d Friend, and most humble Servant, _Timothy Treat-all_ of London, Alderman. [_Bowing_. _Bet_. Ay, this is something, Mistress; here’s Reason. _Dia_. But I have given my Faith and Troth to _Wilding, Betty_. Sir _Tim_. Faith and Troth! We stand upon neither Faith nor Troth in the City, Lady. I have known an Heiress married and bedded, and yet with the Advice of the wiser Magistrates, has been unmarried and consummated anew with another, so it stands with our Interest: ‘tis Law by Magna Charta. Nay, had you married my ungracious Nephew, we might by this our Magna Charta have hang’d him for a Rape. _Dia_. What, though he had my Consent? Sir _Tim_. That’s nothing, he had not ours. _Dia_. Then shou’d I marry you by stealth, the Danger wou’d be the same. Sir _Tim_. No, no, Madam, we never accuse one another; ‘tis the poor Rogues, the Tory Rascals we always hang. Let ‘em accuse me if they please; alas, I come off hand-smooth with Ignoramus. _Enter_ Jervice. _Jer_. Sir, there’s such a calling for your Worship! They are all very merry, the Glasses go briskly about. Sir _Tim_. Go, go, I’ll come when all the Healths are past; I love no Healths. _Jer_. They are all over, Sir, and the Ladies are for dancing; so they are all adjourning from the Dining-room hither, as more commodious for that Exercise. I think they’re coming, Sir. Sir _Tim_. Hah, coming! Call _Sensure_ to wait on the Lady to her Apartment.-- [_Enter_ Sensure.]