_Friend_. My Sister, Sir, is very nice. Sir _Tim_. That’s all one, Sir, the old People have adjusted the matter, and they are the most proper for a Negotiation of that kind, which saves us the trouble of a tedious Courtship. _Friend_. That the old People have agreed the matter, is more than I know. Sir _Tim_. Why, Lord, Sir, will you persuade me to that? Don’t you know that your Father (according to the Method in such Cases, being certain of my Estate) came to me thus--Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_,--you are a young Gentleman, and a Knight, I knew your Father well, and my right worshipful Neighbour, our Estates lie together; therefore, Sir, I have a desire to have a near Relation with you--At which, I interrupted him, and cry’d--Oh Lord, Sir, I vow to Fortune, you do me the greatest Honour, Sir, and the rest-- _Bel_. I can endure no more; he marry fair _Celinda_! _Friend_. Prithee let him alone. [_Aside_. Sir _Tim_. To which he answer’d--I have a good Fortune--have but my Son _Ned_, and this Girl, call’d _Celinda_, whom I will make a Fortune, sutable to yours; your honoured Mother, the Lady _Tawdrey_, and I, have as good as concluded the Match already. To which I (who, though I say it, am well enough bred for a Knight) answered the Civility thus--I vow to Fortune, Sir--I did not swear, but cry’d--I protest, Sir, _Celinda_, deserves--no, no, I lye again, ‘twas merits--Ay, _Celinda_--merits a much better Husband than I. _Friend_. You speak more Truth than you are aware of. [_Aside_.] Well, Sir, I’ll bring you to my Sister; and if she likes you, as well as My Father does, she’s yours; otherwise, I have so much Tenderness for her, as to leave her Choice free. Sir _Tim_. Oh, Sir, you compliment. _Alons, Entrons. [Exeunt_. SCENE II. _A Chamber_. _Enter_ Celinda, _and_ Nurse. _Cel_. I wonder my Brother stays so long: sure Mr. _Bellmour_ is not yet arriv’d, yet he sent us word he would be here to day. Lord, how impatient I grow! _Nur_. Ay, so methinks; if I had the hopes of enjoying so sweet a Gentleman as Mr. _Bellmour_, I shou’d be so too--But I am past it--Well, I have had my Pantings, and Heavings, my Impatience, and Qualms, my Heats, and my Colds, and my I know not whats--But I thank my Stars, I have done with all those Fooleries. _Cel_. Fooleries!-- Is there any thing in Life but Love? Wou’dst thou praise Heaven for thy Being, Without that grateful part of it? For I confess I love. _Nur_. You need not, your Sighs, and daily (nay, and nightly too) Disorders, plainly enough betray the Truth. _Cel_. Thou speak’st as if it were a Sin: But if it be so, you your self help’d to make me wicked. For e’er I saw Mr. _Bellmour_, you spoke the kindest things of him, As would have mov’d the dullest Maid to love; And e’er I saw him, I was quite undone. _Nur_. Quite undone! Now God forbid it; what, for loving? You said but now there was no Life without it.