Har. Beauty runs as great a risk exposed at Court as wit does on the stage, where the ugly and the foolish all are free to censure.

Dor. [aside]. I love her, and dare not let her know it; I fear she has an ascendant o’er me, and may revenge the wrongs I have done her sex. [To her.] Think of making a party, madam, love will engage.

Har. You make me start! I did not think to have heard of love from you.

Dor. I never knew what’twas to have a settled ague yet, but now and then have had irregular fits.

Har. Take heed! sickness after long health is commonly more violent and dangerous.

Dor. [aside]. I have took the infection from her, and feel the disease now spreading in me— [To her.] Is the name of love so frightful that you dare not stand it?

Har. ’Twill do little execution out of your mouth on me, I am sure.

Dor. It has been fatal—

Har. To some easy women, but we are not all born to one destiny; I was informed you use to laugh at love. and not make it.

Dor. The time has been, but now I must speak—

Har. If it be on that idle subject, I will put on my serious look, turn my head carelessly from you, drop my lip, let my eyelids fall and hang half o’er my eyes—thus—while you buzz a speech of an hour long in my ear, and I answer never a word; why do you not begin?

Dor. That the company may take notice how passionately I make advances of love, and how disdainfully you receive ’em.

Har. When your love’s grown strong enough to make you bear being laughed at, I’ll give you leave to trouble me with it: till when, pray forbear, sir.

Enter Sir FOPLING and others in masks.

Dor. What’s here, masquerades?

Har. I thought that foppery had been left off and people might have been in private with a fiddle.

Dor. ’Tis endeavoured to be kept on foot still by some who find themselves the more acceptable the less they are known.

Y. Bell. This must be Sir Fopling.

Med. That extraordinary habit shows it.

Y. Bell. What are the rest?

Med. A company of French rascals whom he picked up in Paris and has brought over to be his dancing equipage on these occasions. Make him own himself; a fool is very troublesome when he presumes he is incognito.

Sir Fop. [to HARRIET]. Do you know me?

Har. Ten to one but I guess at you.