Serv. Sir, my Lord Plotwell is at the Door in his Coach.
Dia. My Uncle come! Sir, we will not doubt our Fortune. But how came he to know of my being here?
Serv. Madam, I fear he follow’d me after I had given him the Letter.
Enter Lord Plotwell, Charles, Trusty.
Lord. Bellmour and Diana kneeling!
[Bel. and Diana kneel.
—Rise; the Joy I have to see you thus, makes me
Resolve to grant you any thing, and pardon
All that’s past.
Bel. Be not so hasty in your Goodness, Sir, Lest you repent as fast.
Dia. Sir, we have an humble Suit to you.
Lord. What is it ye can jointly ask, I will not grant?
Dia. By all that Love you ever had for me,
By all those Infant Charms which us’d to please you,
When on your Lap you taught my Tongue that Art
Which made those dear Impressions on your Heart,
Which ever since to my Advantage grew,
I do conjure you hear me now I sue,
And grant the mighty Grace I beg of you.
Lord. What is it you wou’d ask?