Lady, Palate, Rut.
Lad. I, 'tis his fault, she's not bestow'd.
My Brother Interests. Pal. Who, old Sir Moath?
Lad. He keeps off all her Suitors, keeps the Portion
Still in his hands,: and will not part with all,
On any terms.
Pal. Hinc illae lachrymae;
Thence flows the cause o' the main grievance.
It is a main one! how much is the portion?
Lad. No petty sum.
Pal. But sixteen thousand Pound.
Rut. He should be force'd, Madam, to lay it down.
When is it payable?
Lad. When she is married.
Pal. Marry her, marry her, Madam.
Rut. Get her married.
Loose not a day, an hour --
Pal. not a minute.
Pursue your project real, Mr. Compass
Advis'd you to. He is the perfect Instrument
Your Ladiship should sail by.
Rut. Now, Mr. Compass
Is a fine witty Man; I saw him go in, now.
Lad. Is he gone in?
Pal. Yes, and a feather with him,
He seems a Soldier.
Rut. Some new Suitor, Madam.
Lad. I am beholding to him: He brings ever
Variety of good Persons to my Table,
And I must thank him, though my Brother Interest
Dislike of it a little.
Pal. He likes nothing
That runs your way.
Rut. Troth, and the other cares not.
He'll go his own way, if he think it right.
Lad. He's a true Friend! and there's Mr. Practice.
The fine young Man of Law, comes to the house:
My Brother brooks him not, because he thinks
He is by me assigned for my Neice:
He will not hear of it.
Rut. Not of that Ear:
But yet your Ladiship doth wisely in it --
Pal. 'Twill make him to lay down the Portion sooner,
If he but dream you'll match her with a lawyer.
Lad. So Mr. Compass says. It is between
The Lawyer, and the Courtier, which shall have her.
Pal. Who, Sir Diaphanous Silk-worm?
Rut. A fine Gentleman,
Old Mr. Silk-worms's Heir.
Pal. And a neat Courtier,
Of a most elegant Thread.
Lad. And so my gossip
Polish assures me. Here she comes! good Polish
Welcome in troth! How do'st thou, gentle polish
Rut. Who's this?
Pal. Dame Polish, her She-parasite,
Her Talking, soothing, sometime governing Gossip.