Dor. If you did but hear him speak, madam!

Lady Wood. Oh! he has a tongue, they say, would tempt the angels to a second fall.

Enter Sir FOPLING with his Equipage, six Footmen and a Page.

Sir Fop. Hey, Champagne, Norman, La Rose, La Fleur, La Tour, La Verdue. Dorimant!—

Lady Wood. Here, here he is among this rout, he names him; come away, Harriet, come away.

[Exeunt Lady WOODVIL, HARRIET, BUSY, and YOUNG BELLAIR.

Dor. This fool’s coming has spoiled all; she’s gone, but she has left a pleasing image of herself behind that wanders in my soul —It must not settle there.

Sir Fop. What reverie is this? Speak, man.

Dor.

Enter MEDLEY.

Med. Dorimant, a discovery! I met with Bellair.

Dor. You can tell me no news, sir; I know all.

Med. How do you like the daughter?

Dor. You never came so near truth in your life as you did in her description.

Med. What think you of the mother?

Dor. Whatever I think of her, she thinks very well of me, I find.

Med. Did she know you?

Dor. She did not; whether she does now or no, I know not. Here was a pleasant scene towards, when in came Sir Fopling, mustering up his equipage, and at the latter end named me and frighted her away.

Med. Loveit and Belinda are not far off, I saw ’em alight at St. James’s.

Dor. [whispers]. Sir Fopling, hark you, a word or two. Look you do not want assurance.

Sir Fop. I never do on these occasions.

Dor. Walk on, we must not be seen together; make your advantage of what I have told you; the next turn you will meet the lady.

Sir Fop. Hey—Follow me all.

[Exeunt Sir FOPLING and his Equipage.

Dor. Medley, you shall see good sport anon between Loveit and this Fopling.

Med. I thought there was something toward by that whisper

Dor. You know a worthy principle of hers?