Lucy. There, Sir Lucius.

[Gives him a letter.

Sir Luc. [Reads.] Sir—there is often a sudden incentive impulse in love, that has a greater induction than years of domestic combination: such was the commotion I felt at the first superfluous view of Sir Lucius O’Trigger.—Very pretty, upon my word.— Female punctuation forbids me to say more; yet let me add, that it will give me joy infallible to find Sir Lucius worthy the last criterion of my affections.

Delia.

Upon my conscience! Lucy, your lady is a great mistress of language. Faith, she’s quite the queen of the dictionary!—for the devil a word dare refuse coming at her call—though one would think it was quite out of hearing.

Lucy. Ay, sir, a lady of her experience—

Sir Luc. Experience! what, at seventeen?

Lucy. O true, sir—but then she reads so—my stars! how she will read off hand!

Sir Luc. Faith, she must be very deep read to write this way— though she is rather an arbitrary writer too—for here are a great many poor words pressed into the service of this note, that would get their habeas corpus from any court in Christendom.

Lucy. Ah! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how she talks of you!

Sir Luc. Oh, tell her I’ll make her the best husband in the world, and Lady O’Trigger into the bargain!—But we must get the old gentlewoman’s consent—and do everything fairly.

Lucy. Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa’n’t rich enough to be so nice.

Sir Luc. Upon my word, young woman, you have hit it:—I am so poor, that I can’t afford to do a dirty action.—If I did not want money, I’d steal your mistress and her fortune with a great deal of pleasure.—However, my pretty girl, [Gives her money,] here’s a little something to buy you a ribbon; and meet me in the evening, and I’ll give you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss before-hand to put you in mind.

[Kisses her.

Lucy. O Lud! Sir Lucius—I never seed such a gemman! My lady won’t like you if you’re so impudent.

Sir Luc. Faith she will, Lucy!—That same—pho! what’s the name of it?—modesty—is a quality in a lover more praised by the woman than liked; so, if your mistress asks you whether Sir Lucius ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty—my dear.

Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie?

Sir Luc. Ah, then, you baggage! I’ll make it a truth presently.

Lucy. For shame now! here is some one coming.

Sir Luc. Oh, faith, I’ll quiet your conscience!

[Exit humming a tune.

Enter Fag.