Enter Jervice.
Jer. An’t please your Worship, Supper’s almost over, and you are askt for.
Sir Tim. They know I never sup; I shall come time enough to bid ‘em welcome. [Exit Jer.
Dia. I keep you, Sir, from Supper, and better Company.
Sir Tim. Lady, Were I a Glutton, I cou’d be satisfy’d
With feeding on those two bright starry Eyes.
Dia. You are a Courtier, Sir; we City-Maids do seldom hear such
Language; in which you shew your kindness to your Nephew, more than your
thoughts of what my
Beauty merits.
Sir Tim. Lord, Lord, how innocent she is! [Aside.] My Nephew,
Madam? yes, yes, I cannot chuse but be wondrous kind upon his score.
Dia. Nay, he has often told me, you were the best of Uncles, and he deserves your goodness, so hopeful a young Gentleman.
Sir Tim. Wou’d I cou’d see’t. [Aside.
Dia. So modest.