Sir Tim. Look on this Lady, Sir—Ha, ha, ha,—Well, Sir—Well, Sir—
And what then?
Bel. Nay, view her well, Sir—
Sir. Tim. Pleasant this—Well, Frank, I do—And what then?
Bel. Is she not charming fair—fair to a wonder!
Sir Tim. Well, Sir, ‘tis granted—
Bel. And canst thou think this Beauty meant for thee, for thee, dull common Man?
Sir Tim. Very well, what will he say next?
Bel. I say, let me no more see thee approach this Lady.
Sir Tim. How, Sir, how?
Bel. Not speak to her, not look on her—by Heaven—not think of her.