Sir Tim. Well enough, well enough, Jervice.
Enter Mrs. Sensure.
Sen. An’t like your Worship, Mr. Wilding is come in with a Lady richly drest in Jewels, mask’d, in his Hand, and will not be deny’d speaking with your Worship.
Sir Tim. Hah, rich in Jewels! this must be she. My Sword again, Jervice.—Bring ‘em up, Sensure.—Prithee how do I look to Night, Jervice? [Setting himself.
Jer. Oh, most methodically, Sir.
Enter Wild, with Diana, and Betty.
Wild. Sir, I have brought into your kind protection the richest Jewel all London can afford, fair Mrs. Charlot Gett-all.
Sir Tim. Bless us, she’s ravishing fair! Lady, I had the honour of being intimate with your worthy Father. I think he has been dead—
Dia. If he catechize me much on that point, I shall spoil all. [Aside. Alas, Sir, name him not; for if you do, [weeping. I’m sure I cannot answer you one Question.
Wild. For Heaven sake, Sir, name not her Father to her; the bare remembrance of him kills her. [Aside to him.