COTTON. Thou referr'st to young Manning without doubt. It can never be. 'Tis but a passing fancy.
ADONIJAH. Nay, but I fear Charles thinketh not so. I have been told in secret [leaning forward confidentially] by one that hath every opportunity to know, that he hath enjoined Goodman Shrewsbury to send for—[impressively] a ring!
COTTON. [Angered.] A ring, sayest thou?
ADONIJAH. [Nodding.] Aye, even so.
COTTON. But he hath not signified such intention here to me.
ADONIJAH. Then there are no grounds for his rash presumption?
COTTON. Humph! Grounds! For a ring! Aye, there'll be no diabolical circle here for the devil to daunce in. I will question Betty thereon. [Rises.] Do thou remain here and I will send her to thee. Oh, that he should offer daughter of mine a ring!
[Cotton leaves the room. Adonijah leans back in his chair in supreme contentment at the turn affairs have taken. The clamorous knocker arouses him from his reverie. He gazes stupidly around. The continued imperious tattoo on the knocker finally brings him to his feet. He goes into the hall and opens the door. His voice is heard.
ADONIJAH. [Frostily.] Good-afternoon, Sir Charles, mine host is absent.
CHARLES. [Stepping in.] My mission has rather to do with Mistress Betty. Is she in?