RUST. How! confefs myself in the fault? JULIET. Ay; for the best thing that a man can do, when he finds he can't be beloved, is to take care he is not heartily hated. There is no other alternative. RUST. Madam, I fha'n't break my word with Sir Thomas. JULIET. Nor I with myself. So there's an end of our conference. Sir, your very obedient. RUST. Madam, I, I, don't-that is, let me-But no Ha, ha, ha! Incomparable Juliet! How the old dotard trembled and tottered; he could not have been more inflam'd, had he been robb'd of his Otho. JULIET. Ay; was ever goddess fo familiarly used? In my confcience, I began to be afraid that he would treat me as the Indians do their dirty divinitics; whenever they are deaf to their prayers, they beat and abuse them. BEVER. But, after all, we are in an aukward fituation. JULIET. Your uncle has refolved that you should be married to Ruft. JULIET. Ay, he may decree; but it is I that must Then I am at the height of my hopes. JULIET. Your hopes! Your hopes and your fears are ill-founded alike. BEVER. Why, you are determined not to be his. What then! why then you will be mine. JULIET. Indeed! and is that the natural confequence? Whoever won't be his, must be your's. Is that the logic of Oxford? BEVER. C Madam, I did flatter myself JULIET. JULIET. Then you did very wrong, indeed, Mr. Bever: you should ever guard against flattering yourself; for of all dangerous parafites, felf is the worst. I am aftonish'd! BEVER. JULIET. Astonish'd! your are mad, I believe! Why, I have not known you a month. It is true, my uncle fays your father is his friend; your fortune, in time, will be eafy; your figure is not remarkably faulty; and as to your understanding, paffable enough for a young fellow who has not feen much of the world: but when one talks of a hufband-Lord, it's quite another fort of aHa, ha, ha! Poor Bever, how he ftares! he stands like a ftatue! BEVER. Statue, indeed, Madam; I am very near petrified. JULIET. Even then you will make as good a husband as Ruft. But go, run, and join the affembly within: be attentive to every word, motion, and look of my uncle's; be dumb when he speaks, admire all he says, laugh when he fmirks, bow when he fneezes; in fhort, fawn, flatter, and cringe; don't be afraid of over-loading his ftomach, for the knight has a noble digestion, and you will find fome there who will keep you in countenance. BEVER. I fly. So then, Juliet, your intention was only to try JULIET. Don't plague me with impertinent questions: march! obey my directions. We muft leave the iffue to Chance; a greater friend to mankind than they are willing to own. Oh, Oh, if any thing new should occur, you may come into the drawing room for further inftructions. [Exeunt feverally. SCENE, A ROOM IN SIR THOMAS LOFTY'S HOUSE. Sir Thomas, Ruft, Puff, Dactyl, and others, discovered Then in this difette, this dearth of invention, give me leave, gentlemen, to distribute my ftores. I have here in my hand a little, fmart, fatyrical epigram; new, and prettily pointed: in fhort, a production that Martial himself would not have blush'd to acknowledge. RUST. Your own, Sir Thomas? Sir THOMAS. O fie! no; fent me this morning, anonymous DACTYL. Pray, Sir Thomas, let us have it. By all means; by all means. ALL. C 2 Sir THOMAS. Sir THOMAS. To Phillis. Think'ft thou, fond Phillis, Strephon told thee true, Phillis paints fair-to look like an an-gel. ALL. Fine! fine! very fine! DACTYL. Such an ease and fimplicity. PUFF. The turn fo unexpected and quick. RUST. The fatire fo poignant. Sir THOMAS. Yes; I think it poffeffes, in an eminent degree, the three great epigrammatical requifites; brevity, familiarity, and feverity. Phillis paints fair to look like an an-gel. Happy! Is the Phillis, the fubject, a secret? Sir THOMAS. Oh, dear me! nothing perfonal; no; an impromptu; a mere jeu d'efprit. PUFF. Then, Sir Thomas, the fecret is out; it is your |