_Mel_. But does he love you seriously?

_Olin_. Seriously?--I know not that; if he did, perhaps I should
not love him: But we sit and talk, and wrangle, and are friends; when
we are together, we never hold our tongues; and then we have always a
noise of fiddles at our heels; he hunts me merrily, as the hound does
the hare; and either this is love, or I know it not.

_Mel_. Well, go back, and call Sabina to me.

[_OLINDA goes behind_.

This is a riddle past my finding out: Whether he loves her, or no,
is the question; but this, I am sure of, she loves him:--O my little
favourite, I must ask you a question concerning Celadon: is he in love
with you?

_Sab_. I think, indeed, he does not hate me; at least, if a man's
word may be taken for it.

_Mel_. But what expressions has he made you?

_Sab_. Truly, the man has done his part: He has spoken civilly to
me, and I was not so young but I understood him.

_Mel_. And you could be content to marry him?

_Sab_. I have sworn never to marry: besides he's a wild young
man; yet, to obey you, mother, I would be content to be sacrificed.

_Mel_. No, no, we would but lead you to the altar.

_Sab_. Not to put off the gentleman neither; for if I have him
not, I am resolved to die a maid, that's once, mother.

_Mel_. Both my daughters are in love with him, and I cannot yet
find he loves either of them.

_Olin_. Mother, mother, yonder's Celadon in the walks.

_Mel_. Peace, wanton; you had best ring the bells for joy. Well,
I'll not meet him, because I know not which to offer him; yet he seems
to like the youngest best: I'll give him opportunity with her. Olinda,
do you make haste after me.

_Olin_. This is something hard though.

[_Exit_ MEL.

_Enter_ CELADON.

_Cel_. You see, ladies, the least breath of yours brings me to
you: I have been seeking you at your lodgings, and from thence came
hither after you.

_Sab_. 'Twas well you found us.

_Cel_. Found you! half this brightness betwixt you two was enough
to have lighted me; I could never miss my way: Here's fair Olinda has
beauty enough for one family; such a voice, such a wit, so noble a
stature, so white a skin!--

_Olin_. I thought he would be particular at last. [_Aside_.

_Cel_. And young Sabina, so sweet an innocence, such a rose-bud
newly blown. This is my goodly palace of love, and that my little
withdrawing room. A word, madam.--[_To_ SAB.

_Olin_. I like not this--[_Aside_.] Sir, if you are not t