VAIN. A kind of mongrel zealot, sometimes very precise and
peevish. But I have seen him pleasant enough in his way; much
addicted to jealousy, but more to fondness; so that as he is often
jealous without a cause, he's as often satisfied without reason.

BELL. A very even temper, and fit for my purpose. I must get your
man Setter to provide my disguise.

VAIN. Ay; you may take him for good and all, if you will, for you
have made him fit for nobody else. Well -

BELL. You're going to visit in return of Sylvia's letter. Poor
rogue! Any hour of the day or night will serve her. But do you
know nothing of a new rival there?

VAIN. Yes; Heartwell--that surly, old, pretended woman-hater--
thinks her virtuous; that's one reason why I fail her. I would
have her fret herself out of conceit with me, that she may
entertain some thoughts of him. I know he visits her every day.

BELL. Yet rails on still, and thinks his love unknown to us. A
little time will swell him so, he must be forced to give it birth;
and the discovery must needs be very pleasant from himself, to see
what pains he will take, and how he will strain to be delivered of
a secret, when he has miscarried of it already.

VAIN. Well, good-morrow. Let's dine together; I'll meet at the
old place.

BELL. With all my heart. It lies convenient for us to pay our