Chr. Heaven grant he be but deep enough in love, and then——
L. Dupe. And then thou shalt distil him into gold, my girl. Yonder he comes, I'll not be seen: you know your lesson, child.
[Exit.
Chr. I warrant you.
Enter Lord Dartmouth.
Lord. Pretty mistress Christian, how glad am I to meet you thus alone!
Chr. O the father! what will become of me now?
Lord. No harm, I warrant you; but why are you so afraid?
Chr. A poor weak innocent creature as I am, heaven of his mercy, how I quake and tremble! I have not yet clawed off your last ill usage, and now I feel my old fit come again; my ears tingle already, and my back shuts and opens; ay, just so it began before.
Lord. Nay, my sweet mistress, be not so unjust to suspect any new attempt: I am too penitent for my last fault, so soon to sin again. I hope you did not tell it to your aunt.
Chr. The more fool I, I did not.