This is a riddle past my finding out: Whether he loves her, or no, is the question; but this, I am sure of, she loves him:--O my little favourite, I must ask you a question concerning Celadon: is he in love with you? _Sab_. I think, indeed, he does not hate me; at least, if a man's word may be taken for it. _Mel_. But what expressions has he made you? _Sab_. Truly, the man has done his part: He has spoken civilly to me, and I was not so young but I understood him. _Mel_. And you could be content to marry him? _Sab_. I have sworn never to marry: besides he's a wild young man; yet, to obey you, mother, I would be content to be sacrificed. _Mel_. No, no, we would but lead you to the altar. _Sab_. Not to put off the gentleman neither; for if I have him not, I am resolved to die a maid, that's once, mother. _Mel_. Both my daughters are in love with him, and I cannot yet find he loves either of them. _Olin_. Mother, mother, yonder's Celadon in the walks. _Mel_. Peace, wanton; you had best ring the bells for joy. Well, I'll not meet him, because I know not which to offer him; yet he seems to like the youngest best: I'll give him opportunity with her. Olinda, do you make haste after me. _Olin_. This is something hard though. [_Exit_ MEL. _Enter_ CELADON. _Cel_. You see, ladies, the least breath of yours brings me to you: I have been seeking you at your lodgings, and from thence came hither after you. _Sab_. 'Twas well you found us. _Cel_. Found you! half this brightness betwixt you two was enough to have lighted me; I could never miss my way: Here's fair Olinda has beauty enough for one family; such a voice, such a wit, so noble a stature, so white a skin!-- _Olin_. I thought he would be particular at last. [_Aside_. _Cel_. And young Sabina, so sweet an innocence, such a rose-bud newly blown. This is my goodly palace of love, and that my little withdrawing room. A word, madam.--[_To_ SAB. _Olin_. I like not this--[_Aside_.] Sir, if you are not too busy with my sister, I would speak with you. _Cel_. I come, madam. _Sab_. Time enough, sir; pray finish your discourse--and as you were a saying, sir,-- _Olin_. Sweet sir,-- _Sab_. Sister, you forget, my mother bid you make haste. _Olin_. Well, go you, and tell her I am coming. _Sab_. I can never endure to be the messenger of ill news; but, if you please, I'll send her word you won't come. _Olin_. Minion, minion, remember this--[_Exit OLIN_. _Sab_. She's horribly in love with you. _Cel_. Lord, who could love that walking steeple! She's so high, that every time she sings to me, I am looking up for the bell that tolls to church.--Ha! give me my little fifth-rate, that lies so snug. She! hang her, a Dutch-built bottom: She's so tall, there's no boarding her. But we lose time--madam, let me seal my love upon your mouth. [_Kiss_] Soft and sweet, by heaven! sure you wear rose-leaves between your lips.