A Waiting Maid wheedles an old Justice into a belief, that her Lady is in love with him.
Maid. I think there never was Woman of so strange a humour as she is for the world; for from her infancy she ever doted on old men. I have heard her say, that in these her late law troubles, it has been no small comfort to her, that she hath been conversant with grave counsellors and serjeants; and what a happiness she had sometimes to look an hour together upon the Judges. She will go and walk a whole afternoon in Charter House Garden, on purpose to view the ancient Gentlemen there. Not long ago there was a young Gentleman here about the town who, hearing of her riches, and knowing this her humour, had almost got her, by counterfeiting himself to be an old man.
Justice. And how came he to miss her?
Maid. The strangliest that ever you heard; for all things were agreed, the very writings drawn, and when he came to seal them, because he set his name without using a pair of spectacles, she would never see him more.
Justice. Nay, if she can love an old man so—well—
The Waiting Maid places the Justice, where he can overhear a sham discourse of the Lady with a pretended Brother.
Brother. What is the matter, Sister? you do not use to be so strange to me.
Lady. I do not indeed; but now methinks I cannot conceal any thing; yet I could wish you could now guess my thoughts, and look into my mind; and see what strange passions have ruled there of late, without forcing me to strain my modesty.
Broth. What, are you in love with anybody? Come, let me know the party; a brother’s advice may do you no harm.
Sist. Did you not see an ancient gentleman with me, when you came in?