nk need not envy
any of my neighbours, blessed be providence. Ay, truly, Mr. Careless, my
lady is a great blessing, a fine, discreet, well-spoken woman as you
shall see, if it becomes me to say so, and we live very comfortably
together; she is a little hasty sometimes, and so am I; but mine's soon
over, and then I'm so sorry.--O Mr. Careless, if it were not for one
thing--

SCENE VII.

CARELESS, SIR PAUL, LADY PLYANT, BOY _with a letter_.

LADY PLYANT. How often have you been told of that, you jackanapes?

SIR PAUL. Gad so, gad's-bud. Tim, carry it to my lady, you should have
carried it to my lady first.

BOY. 'Tis directed to your worship.

SIR PAUL. Well, well, my lady reads all letters first. Child, do so no
more; d'ye hear, Tim.

BOY. No, and please you.

SCENE VIII.

CARELESS, SIR PAUL, LADY PLYANT.

SIR PAUL. A humour of my wife's: you know women have little fancies. But
as I was telling you, Mr. Careless, if it were not for one thing, I
should think myself the happiest man in the world; indeed that touches me
near, very near.

CARE. What can that be, Sir Paul?

SIR PAUL. Why, I have, I thank heaven, a very plentiful fortune, a good
estate in the country, some houses in town, and some money, a pretty
tolerable personal estate; and it is a great grief to me, indeed it is,
Mr. Careless, that I have not a son to inherit this. 'Tis true I have a
daughter, and a fine dutiful child she is, though I say it, blessed be
providence I may say; for indeed, Mr. Careless, I am mightily beholden to
providence. A poor unworthy sinner. But if I had a son! Ah, that's my
affliction, and my only affliction; indeed I cannot refrain tears when it
comes in my mind. [_Cries_.]

CARE. Why, methinks that might be easily remedied--my lady's a fine
likely woman--

SIR PAUL. Oh, a fine likely woman as you shall see in a summer's day.
Indeed she is, Mr. Careless, in all respects.

CARE. And I should not have taken you to have been so old--

SIR PAUL. Alas, that's not it, Mr. Careless; ah! that's not it; no, no,
you shoot wide of the mark a mile; indeed you do, that's not it, Mr.
Careless; no, no, that's not it.

CARE. No? What can be the matter then?

SIR PAUL. You'll scarcely believe me when I shall tell you--my lady is
so nice. It's very strange, but it's true; too true--she's so very nice,
that I don't believe she would touch a man for the world. At least not
above once a year; I'm