And highly honoured in that title.

SIR PAUL. Gads-bud, I am transported! Give me leave to kiss your
ladyship's hand.

CYNT. That my poor father should be so very silly! [Aside.]

LADY PLYANT. My lip indeed, Sir Paul, I swear you shall. [He
kisses her, and bows very low.]

SIR PAUL. I humbly thank your ladyship. I don't know whether I fly
on ground, or walk in air. Gads-bud, she was never thus before.
Well, I must own myself the most beholden to Mr. Careless. As sure
as can be, this is all his doing, something that he has said; well,
'tis a rare thing to have an ingenious friend. Well, your ladyship
is of opinion that the match may go forward.

LADY PLYANT. By all means. Mr. Careless has satisfied me of the
matter.

SIR PAUL. Well, why then, lamb, you may keep your oath, but have a
care about making rash vows; come hither to me, and kiss papa.

LADY PLYANT. I swear and declare, I am in such a twitter to read
Mr. Careless his letter, that I can't forbear any longer. But
though I may read all letters first by prerogative, yet I'll be sure
to be unsuspected this time, Sir Paul.

SIR PAUL. Did your ladyship call?