_Trust_. Here’s like to be a hopeful end of a noble Family. My Comfort is, I shall die with Grief, and not see the last of ye. [_Weeps_. _Char_. No, _Trusty_, I have not been so meanly educated, but I know how to live, and like a Gentleman: All that afflicts me in this Misfortune, is my dear Sister _Phillis_, she’s young; and to be left poor in this loose Town, will ruin her for ever. _Trust_. Sir, I think we were best to marry her out of the way. _Char_. Marry her! To whom? who is’t regards poor Virtue? _Trust_. For that let me alone; and if you dare trust her to my Management, I’ll undertake to marry her to a Man of 2000 pounds a Year; and if it fail, I’ll be sure to keep her Honour safe. _Char_. Prithee how wilt do this? _Trust_. Sir, I have serv’d your Family these thirty Years, with Faith and Love; and if I lose my Credit now, I’ll never pretend to’t more. _Char_. Do what thou wilt, for I am sure thou’rt honest, And I’ll resign my Sister to thy Conduct, Whilst I endeavour the Conversion of my Brother. [_Exit_ Charles. _Enter_ Phillis. _Phil_. No News yet of my Brother? _Trust_. None: The Next you’ll hear is, that he’s undone, and that you must go without your Portions; and worse than that, I can tell you, your Uncle designs to turn you out of Doors. _Phil_. Alas! what shou’d I do, if he shou’d be so cruel? Wou’d I were in _Flanders_ at my Monastery again, if this be true. _Trust_. I have better Bus’ness for you, than telling of Beads--No, Mrs. _Phillis_, you must be married. _Phil_. Alas! I am too young, and sad for Love. _Trust_. The younger, and the less Love, the better. _Enter_ Page. _Page_. Mr. _Trusty_, here’s a Gentleman would speak with you, he says his Name’s Mr. _Sham_. _Trust_. Gud’s me, Mistress, put on all your Holiday Looks; for this is the little Merchant of Love by Retail, that brings you the Husband I promis’d you. _Enter_ Sham. _Sham_. Well, Mr. _Trusty_, I have brought Sir _Timothy_ as I promis’d, he is at the Garden-door. _Trust_. The best time in the World, my Lord’s out of the way. _Sham_. But you know our Conditions. _Trust_. Yes, that if he marry her, you are to have all the Money that he offers to debauch her. _Sham_. Right. _Trust_. Bring him in then, and I’ll civilly withdraw. [_Exit_ Trusty. _Enter_ Sham, _bringing in Sir_ Timothy. Sir _Tim_. Well, _Sham_, thou hast prepar’d all things, and there needs no Ceremony. _Sham_. None, none, Sir; you may fall down-right to the Business. [_Exit_. _Enter_ Phillis. Sir _Tim_. _sings_. _Come, my_ Phillis, _let us improve Both our Joys of equal Love; Whilst we in yonder shady Grove, Count Minutes by our Kisses_. _Phil_. What sort of Courtship’s this? ‘tis very odd!