[_Ex_. Leticia _and L_. Fulbank. _Bea_. Oh Lord, Madam, you oblige me--look, _Ned_, you had a mind to have a full view of my Mistress, Sir, and--here she is. [_He stands gazing_. Go, salute her--look how he stands now; what a sneaking thing is a Fellow who has never travel’d and seen the World!--Madam--this is a very honest Friend of mine, for all he looks so simply. _Dia_. Come, he speaks for you, Sir. _Bea_. He, Madam! though he be but a Banker’s Prentice, Madam, he’s as pretty a Fellow of his Inches as any i’th’ City--he has made love in Dancing-Schools, and to Ladies of Quality in the middle Gallery, and shall joke ye--and repartee with any Fore-man within the Walls--prithee to her--and commend me, I’ll give thee a new Point Crevat. _Dia_. He looks as if he cou’d not speak to me. _Bea_. Not speak to you! yes, Gad, Madam, and do any thing to you too. _Dia_. Are you his Advocate, Sir? [_In scorn_. _Bea_. For want of a better-- [_Stands behind him, pushing him on_. _Bred_. An Advocate for Love I am, And bring you such a Message from a Heart-- _Bea_. Meaning mine, dear Madam. _Bred_. That when you hear it, you will pity it. _Bea_. Or the Devil’s in her-- _Dia_. Sir, I have many Reasons to believe, It is my Fortune you pursue, not Person. _Bea_. There is something in that, I must confess. [_Behind him_. But say what you will, _Ned_. _Bred_. May all the Mischiefs of despairing Love Fall on me if it be. _Bea_. That’s well enough-- _Bred_. No, were you born an humble Village-Maid, That fed a Flock upon the neighbouring Plain; With all that shining Vertue in your Soul, By Heaven, I wou’d adore you--love you--wed you-- Though the gay World were lost by such a Nuptial. [Bear. _looks on him_. --This--I wou’d do, were I my Friend the Squire [_Recollecting_. _Bea_. Ay, if you were me--you might do what you pleas’d; but I’m of another mind. _Dia_. Shou’d I consent, my Father is a Man whom Interest sways, not Honour; and whatsoever Promises he ‘as made you, he means to break ‘em all, and I am destin’d to another. _Bea_. How, another--his Name, his Name, Madam--here’s _Ned_ and I fear ne’er a single Man i’th’ Nation, What is he--what is he?-- _Dia_. A Fop, a Fool, a beaten Ass--a Blockhead. _Bea_. What a damn’d Shame’s this, that Women shou’d be sacrificed to Fools, and Fops must run away with Heiresses--whilst we Men of Wit and Parts dress and dance, and cock and travel for nothing but to be tame Keepers. _Dia_. But I, by Heaven, will never be that Victim: But where my Soul is vow’d, ‘tis fix’d for ever. _Bred_. Are you resolv’d, are you confirm’d in this? Oh my _Diana_, speak it o’er again. [_Runs to her, and embraces her_. Bless me, and make me happier than a Monarch. _Bea_. Hold, hold, dear _Ned_--that’s my part, I take it.