_Isa_. [Reads.] _These for Madam Isabella. Dear rogue, Sir Timorous knows nothing of our kindness, nor shall for me; seem still to have designs upon him; it will hide thy affection the better to thy servant,_ BURR. _Isa_. Alas, poor woodcock, dost thou go a-birding? Thou hast e'en set a springe to catch thy own neck. Look you here, Sir Timorous; here's something to confirm what I have told you. [_Gives him the letter_. _Tim_. D, e, a, r, _dear_; r, o, g, u, e, _rogue_. Pray, madam, read it; this written hand is such a damned pedantic thing, I could never away with it. _Isa_. He would fain have robbed you of me: Lord, Lord! to see the malice of a man. _Tim_. She has persuaded me so damnably, that I begin to think she's my mistress indeed. _Isa_. Your mistress? why, I hope you are not to doubt that, at this time of day. I was your mistress from the first day you ever saw me. _Tim_. Nay, like enough you were so; but I vow to gad now, I was wholly ignorant of my own affection. _Isa_. And this rogue pretends he has an interest in me, merely to defeat you: Look you, look you, where he stands in ambush, like a Jesuit behind a Quaker, to see how his design will take. _Tim_. I see the rogue: Now could I find in my heart to marry you in spite to him; what think you on't, in a fair way? _Isa_. I have brought him about as I could wish; and now I'll make my own conditions. [_Aside_.] Sir Timorous, I wish you well; but he I marry must promise me to live at London: I cannot abide to be in the country, like a wild beast in the wilderness, with no Christian soul about me. _Tim_. Why, I'll bear you company. _Isa_. I cannot endure your early hunting-matches there; to have my sleep disturbed by break of day, with heigh, Jowler, Jowler! there Venus, ah Beauty! and then a serenade of deep-mouthed curs, to answer the salutation of the huntsman, as if hell were broke loose about me: and all this to meet a pack of gentlemen savages, to ride all day, like mad-men, for the immortal fame of being first in at the hare's death: to come upon the spur, after a trial at four in the afternoon, to destruction of cold meat and cheese, with your lewd company in boots; fall a-drinking till supper time, be carried to bed, tossed out of your cellar, and be good for nothing all the night after. _Tim_. Well, madam, what is it you would be at? you shall find me reasonable to all your propositions. _Isa_. I have but one condition more to add; for I will be as reasonable as you; and that is a very poor request--to have all the money in my disposing. _Tim_. How, all the money? _Isa_. Ay, for I am sure I can huswife it better for your honour; not but that I shall be willing to encourage you with pocket-money, or so, sometimes. _Tim_. This is somewhat hard. _Isa_. Nay, if a woman cannot do that, I shall think you have an ill opinion of my virtue: Not trust your own flesh and blood, Sir Timorous? _Tim_. Well, is there any thing more behind?