Con. My dear friend, flatter me a little more with these hopes; for whilst they prevail, I have Elysium within me, and could melt with joy.

Heart. Pray, no melting yet. This afternoon, perhaps, we shall make some advance. In the meanwhile, let’s go dine at Locket’s, and let hope get you a stomach.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Lady FANCIFUL’s House

Enter Lady FANCIFUL and MADEMOISELLE

Lady F. Did you ever see anything so importune, mademoiselle?

Madem. Inteed, matam, to say de trute, he want leetel good breeding.

Lady F. Good breeding! He wants to be caned, mademoiselle. An insolent follow! And yet, let me expose my weakness, ’tis the only man on earth I could resolve to dispense my favours on, were he but a fine gentleman. Well, did men but know how deep an impression a fine gentleman makes in a lady’s heart, they would reduce all their studies to that of good-breeding alone.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Will your ladyship please to dine yet?

Lady F. Yes, let them serve. [Exit Servant.] Sure, this Heartfree has bewitched me, mademoiselle. I vow, ’tis a thousand pities he is not more polished; don’t you think so?

Madem. Matam, I think it so great pity, that if I was in your ladyship’s place, I take him home in my house, I lock him up in my closet, and I never let him go till I teach him everything dat fine laty expect from fine gentleman.

Lady F. Why, truly, I believe I should soon subdue his brutality; for, without doubt, he has a strange penchant to grow fond of me, in spite of his aversion to the sex, else he would never have taken so much pains about me. Lord! how proud would some poor creatures be of such a conquest! but I, alas! I don’t know how to receive as a favour, what I take to be so infinitely my due. But what shall I do to new mould him, mademoiselle? for till then, he’s my utter aversion.

Madem. Matam, you must laugh at him in all de places dat you meet him, and turn into de redioule all he say, and all he do.

Lady F. Why, truly, satire has ever been of wondrous use to reform ill-manners. Besides, ’tis my particular talent to ridicule folks. I can be severe, strangely severe, when I will, mademoiselle. Give me the pen and ink, I find myself whimsical: I’ll write to him—or, I’ll let it alone, and be severe upon him that way. [Sitting down to write and rising up again.] Yet, active severity is better than passive. [Sitting down.] ’Tis as good to let it alone, too; for every lash I give him, perhaps, he’ll take for a favour. [Rising.] Yet, ’tis a thousand pities so much satire should be lost. [Sitting.] But if it should have a wrong effect upon him, ’twould distract me. [Rising.] Well, I must write, though, after all. [Sitting.] Or, I’ll let it alone, which is the same thing.

[Rising.

Madem. La voilà determinée.

[Exeunt.