Tom. O fie, I only think you'll take the letter.
Phil. Nay, I know you do, but I know my own innocence; I take it for my mistress's sake.
Tom. I know it, my pretty one, I know it.
Phil. Yes, I say I do it, because I would not have my mistress deluded by one who gives no proof of his passion; but I'll talk more of tips as you see me on my way home. No, Tom, I assure thee, I take this trash of thy master's, not for the value of the thing, but as it convinces me he has a true respect for my mistress. I remember a verse to the purpose—
They may be false who languish and complain,
But they who part with money never feign.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Bevil, Jun.'s Lodgings.
Bevil, Jun., reading.
Bev. Jun. These moral writers practise virtue after death. This charming vision of Mirza![125] Such an author consulted in a morning sets the spirit for the vicissitudes of the day better than the glass does a man's person. But what a day have I to go through! to put on an easy look with an aching heart! If this lady my father urges me to marry should not refuse me, my dilemma is insupportable. But why should I fear it? Is not she in equal distress with me? Has not the letter I have sent her this morning confessed my inclination to another? Nay, have I not moral assurances of her engagements, too, to my friend Myrtle? It's impossible but she must give in to it; for, sure, to be denied is a favour any man may pretend to. It must be so—Well, then, with the assurance of being rejected, I think I may confidently say to my father, I am ready to marry her. Then let me resolve upon, what I am not very good at, though it is an honest dissimulation.
Enter Tom.
Tom. Sir John Bevil, sir, is in the next room.