Sir _Cred._ _Lodwick_, my dear Friend! and little Spark of Ingenuity--Zoz, Man, I’m but just come to Town. [Embrace. _Lod._ ‘Tis a joyful hearing, Sir. Sir _Cred._ Not so joyful neither, Sir, when you shall know poor _Gillian’s_ dead, my little grey Mare; thou knew’st her, mun: Zoz, ‘thas made me as melancholy as the Drone of a _Lancashire_ Bag-pipe. But let that pass; and now we talk of my Mare, Zoz, I long to see this Sister of thine. _Lod._ She’ll be with you presently, Sir _Credulous_. Sir _Cred._ But hark ye, Zoz, I have been so often fob’d off in these matters, that between you and I, _Lodwick_, if I thought I shou’d not have her, Zoz, I’d ne’er lose precious time about her. _Lod._ Right, Sir; and to say truth, these Women have so much Contradiction in ‘em, that ‘tis ten to one but a Man fails in the Art of pleasing. Sir _Cred._ Why, there’s it:--therefore prithee, dear _Lodwick_, tell me a few of thy Sister’s Humors, and if I fail,--then hang me, Ladies, at your Door, as the Song says. _Lod._ Why, faith, she has many odd Humors hard enough to hit. Sir _Cred._ Zoz, let ‘em be as hard as _Hercules_ his Labors in the Vale of _Basse_, I’ll not be frighted from attempting her. _Lod._ Why, she’s one of those fantastick Creatures that must be courted her own way. Sir _Cred._ Why, let’s hear her way. _Lod._ She must be surpriz’d with strange Extravagancies wholly out of the Road and Method of common Courtship. Sir _Cred._ Shaw, is that all? Zoz, I’m the best in Christendom at your out-of-the-way bus’nesses.--Now do I find the Reason of all my ill Success; for I us’d one and the same method to all I courted, whatever their Humors were; hark ye, prithee give me a hint or two, and let me alone to manage Matters. _Lod._ I have just now thought of a way that cannot but take-- Sir _Cred._ Zoz, out with it, Man. _Lod._ Why, what if you should represent a dumb Ambassador from the Blind God of Love. Sir _Cred._ How, a dumb Ambassador? Zoz, Man, how shall I deliver my Embassy then, and tell her how much I love her?--besides, I had a pure Speech or two ready by heart, and that will be quite lost. [Aside. _Lod._ Fy, fy! how dull you are! why, you shall do it by Signs, and I’ll be your Interpreter. Sir _Cred._ Why, faith, this will be pure; I understand you now, Zoz, I am old excellent at Signs;--I vow this will be rare. _Lod._ It will not fail to do your business, if well manag’d--but stay, here’s my Sister, on your life not a syllable. Enter _Lean._ _Lucr._ and _Isab._ Sir _Cred._ I’ll be rackt first, Mum budget,--prithee present me, I long to be at it, sure. [He falls back, making Faces and Grimaces. _Lod._ Sister, I here present you with a worthy Knight, struck dumb with Admiration of your Beauty; but that’s all one, he is employ’d Envoy Extraordinary from the blind God of Love: and since, like his young Master, he must be defective in one of his Senses, he chose rather to be dumb than blind.