JULIET.

Ay, Sir, there lies my greatest misfortune. Had I only those who are alive to contend with, by affiduity, affection, cares, and careffes, I might fecure my conqueft: though that would be difficult; for I am convinced, were you, Mr. Ruft, put up by Chriftie to auction, the Apollo Belvidere would not draw a greater number of bidders.

RUST.

Would that were the cafe, Madam, fo I might be thought a proper companion to the Venus de Medicis.

JULIET.

The flower of rhetoric, and pink of politeness. But my fears are not confined to the living; for every nation and age, even painters and ftatuaries, confpire against me. Nay, when the Pantheon itself, the very goddeffes rife up as my rivals, what chance has a mortal like me.I fhall certainly laugh in his face. [Afide.]

RUST.

She is a delicate fubject.

-Goddeffes, Ma

dam! zooks, had you been on Mount Ida when Paris decided the conteft, the Cyprian queen had pleaded for the pippin in vain.

RUST.

In you, Madam, are concentered all the beauties of the Heathen mythology: the open front of Diana; the luftre of Pallas's eyes,

JULIET.

The chromatic mufic of Clio, the blooming graces of Hebè, the empereal port of queen Juno, with the delicate dimples of Venus.

JULIET.

I fee, Sir, antiquity has not engrofs'd all your attention: you are no novice in the nature of women. Incense, I own, is grateful to most of my fex; but there are times when adoration may be dispensed with.

Ma'am !

RUST.

JULIET.

I fay, Sir, when we women willingly wave our rank in the fkies, and wish to be treated as mortals.

RUST.

Doubtlefs, Madam: and are you wanting in materials for that? No, Madam; as in dignity you surpass the Heathen divinities, fo in the charms of attraction you beggar the queens of the earth. The whole world, at different periods, has contributed it's feveral beauties to form you.

JULIET.

The deuce it has! [Afide.]

RUST.

See, there, the ripe Afiatic perfection, join'd to the delicate foftnefs of Europe! In you, Madam, I burn to poffefs Cleopatra's alluring glances, the Greek profile of queen Clytemneftra, the Roman nofe of the emprefs Popæa

JULIET.

JULIET.

With the majestic march of queen Befs. Mercy on me, what a wonderful creature am I!

RUST.

In fhort, Madam, not a feature you have, but recals to my mind some trait in a medal or buft.

JULIET.

Indeed! Why, by your account, I must be an abfolute olio, a perfect falamongundy of charms.

RUST.

Oh, Madam, how can you demean, as I may fay, undervalue

JULIET.

Value! there is the thing; and to tell you the truth, Mr. Ruft, in that word Value lies my greatest objection.

RUST.

I don't understand you.

JULIET.

Why then I will explain myfelf. It has been faid, and I believe with fome fhadow of truth, that no man is a hero to his valet de chambre: now, I am afraid, when you and I grow a little more intimate, which I fuppofe must be the case if you proceed on your plan, you will be horribly disappointed in your high expectations, and foon difcover this Juno, this Cleopatra, and princess Popæa, to be as arrant a mortal as madam your mother.

Madam, I, I, I—

RUST.

JULIET.

JULIET.

Your patience a moment. Being therefore defirous to preserve your devotion, I beg, for the future, you would please to adore at a distance,

RUST.

To Endymion, Madam, Luna once liftened.

JULIET.

Ay, but he was another kind of a mortal: you may do very well as a votary; but for a husband -mercy upon me!

RUST.

Madam, you are not in earnest, not serious!

JULIET.

Not ferious! Why have you the impudence to think of marrying a goddess ?.

I fhould hope

RUST.

JULIET.

And what fhould you hope? I find your devotion refembles that of the world: when the power of finning is over, and the sprightly firstrunnings of life are rack'd off, you offer the vapid dregs to your deity. No, no; you may, if you pleafe, turn monk in my fervice. One vow, I believe, you will obferve better than moft of them, chastity.

Permit me

RUST.

JULIET.

Or, if you must marry, take your Julia, your Portia, or Flora, your Fum-fam from China, or your Egyptian Ofiris. You have long paid your addrefles to them.

RUST.

RUST.

Marry! what, marble?

JULIET.

The propereft wives in the world; you can't choose amifs; they will fupply you with all that

you want.

RUST.

Your uncle has, Madam, confented.

JULIET.

That is more than ever his niece will. Confented! and to what? to be fwath'd to a mouldering mummy; or be lock'd up, like your medals, to canker and ruft in a cabinet! No, no; I was made for the world, and the world shall not be robb'd of it's right.

Bravo, Juliet! Gad, fhe's a fine fpirited girl. JULIET.

My profile, indeed! No, Sir, when I marry, I must have a man that will meet my full face.

RUST.

Might I be heard for a moment?

JULIET.

To what end? You fay, you have Sir Thomas Lofty's confent; I tell you, you can never have mine. You may screen me from, or expofe me to, my uncle's refentment; the choice is your if you lay the fault at my door, you will, doubtlefs, greatly diftrefs me; but take the blame on yourfelf, and I fhall own myfelf extremely obliged to you.

own:

RUST.