Sid. Did you never speak to her upon that subject then?
Eger. In general terms only;—never directly requested her consent in form,—[he starts into a warmth of amorous resolution.] but I will this very moment—for I have no asylum from my father's arbitrary design, but my Constantia's arms.—Pray do not stir from hence:—I will return instantly. I know she will submit to your advice—and I am sure you will persuade her to my wish, as my life, my peace, my earthly happiness, depend on my Constantia. [Exit.
Sid. Poor Charles! he little dreams that I love Constantia too,—but to what degree I knew not myself, till he importuned me to join their hands.—Yes—I love—but must not be a rival; for he is dear to me as fraternal affinity:—my benefactor—my friend—and that name is sacred:— it is our better self; and ever ought to be preferred;—for the man who gratifies his passions at the expence of his friend's happiness, wants but a head to contrive—for he has a heart capable of the blackest vice.
Enter BETTY, running up to Sidney.
Bet. I beg pardon for my intrusion, sir. I hope, sir, I do not disturb your reverence!
Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty.
Bet. I humbly beg you will excuse me, sir:—but I wanted to break my mind to your honour—about a scruple that lies upon my conscience:—and indeed I should not have presumed to trouble you, sir, but that I know you are my young master's friend,—and my old master's friend,—and indeed—a friend to the whole family: [runs up to him and curtsies very low.] for to give you your due, sir, you are as good a preacher as ever went into a pulpit.
Sid. Ha, ha, ha! do you think so, Mrs. Betty?
Bet. Ay, in truth do I; and as good a gentleman too as ever came into a family, and one that never gives a servant a bad word, nor that does any one an ill turn neither behind their back, nor before their face.
Sid. Ha, ha, ha! why you are a mighty well spoken woman, Mrs. Betty, and I am mightily beholden to you for your good character of me.