But, Mr. Dotterell, let us go and lay our heads to→ gether. Severn. Now, gentlemen, you are going out in your own persons, and no man living can tell which of you should take precedence. Certainly, Mr. Spider, you are somebody or other; and, Mr. Dotterell, so are you. Now I would fain know which of you is to take place of the other. Spider. Pray, good Mr. Dotterell. Dotterell. Nay, nay, Mr. Spider, I'll never be outdone in civility: you must pardon me indeed, Sir.. Sir. Spider. Nay, Sir. Dotterell. Nay, Sir.. Spider. Nay, Sir. Dotterell. Nay, nay, nay, Sir, if you go to that. [turns aside. Spider. Nay, but, good Sir,-excuse me, Sir. ·[turning another way. Dotterell. Oh, Mr. Spider, your servant for that, [takes him up in his arms. Spider. Sir, you conquer me beyond expression; Sir, you run away with me. Dotterell. Indeed, Sir, I must say you are a very easy gentleman; you are carried away with the least civility, look you, Sir; for [carrying him backwards and forwards. Spider. Spider. Plague on't, what a misfortune it is to be a little fellow! Though I have a soul as great as Hercules, this fellow can deal with me. Dotterell. Oh my dear little Dickey Spider! [Exit, kicking him in his arms. Severn, solus. Here is a great piece of difficulty adjusted; but I observe very few difficulties of ceremony of much greater moment than this, and wish they were all so to be ended.-Well-now have I the hardest task in all my affair to pursue:-to persuade a woman who is young, pleasant, and agreeable, to act a part for me to another; to make love for me, instead of receiving love made to her; and there is no way of obtaining women but by making love to them. They are used to no other language, and understand no other-Ho! who waits there? Enter Waiter. Waiter. Sir; do you call, Sir? Severn. Pray, Sir, call Mrs. Umbrage hither. If she be in the green-room, tell her I beg to speak with her. I must form myself into all the good humour I can to entertain her, or I shall never get her to come into it. Enter Mrs. UMBRAGE. Oh, here she comes. Well, madam, I have cast parts for you, and named you to many, but never so very nice a one as I am to desire of you to undertake at present. To overlook yourself, and deliver that application to another, which had been more rightly directed to yourself, is a greatness of mind, is a candour, to be found only in Mrs. Umbrage. Umbrage. Well, Mr. Severn, you have waved your cap sufficiently; you have done homage, and made your acknowledgments; pray proceed to the matter. Severn. The Northern young lady whom you have often heard me talk of, is in town, and lay in this house last night. Umbrage. That has been the conversation of the green-room. But what do you design in all this you are going to let me into? Severn. I would be well with that young lady. -Nay, I think I am so. Umbrage. A man may often be mistaken in those points, as knowing as you are. Severn. I grant it, madam; I have a mind to know it more explicitly, and have the most evident proofs of it; which I will not desire till I have given her sufficient testimony of a disinterested zeal and service for her. Umbrage. That is, indeed, the noblest and the surest way to approach a sensible spirit, as I have heard you describe hers to be. Pray let me hear what argument you have for thinking that she has a disposition towards you; for you know we naturally are too apt to believe what we wish to be true, Severn. A good opinion is in a man's own power to create. I took care to appear in the best manner where she was; to be always in great good humour, and shew a wonderful deference to her in all my actions; which I constantly expressed by my eye only, as if afraid of notice and observation. She had her eyes as attentive to mine, and never lost the least expression that I made to her, but turned away her eyes when mine grew too familiar.-But give me leave to tell you one particular occasion wherein I plainly think she declared herself to me. Umbrage. That will be worth hearing indeed; I shall be glad to hear the language of the eyes translated by the tongue. [smiling. Severn. You are to know, Madam, that there happened one day in the North, a great Quaker's wedding, at which she and I were present. They went with the greatest gravity and decorum through the whole circumstance of it. But at night she was invited, so was I, to see the bride and bridegroom put to bed.-Several of her maidens attended her; several of their young men him. It is the nature of their superstition, to keep their passions bridled, restrained, and formally dissembled. They have none of those flights, palpitations, gambols, and follies, which divert the mind, and break it from its main object. Umbrage. You are going into a fine story; but I trust your discretion. Severn. Madam, you may [bowing.]-To be sure the bridegroom is laid by his bride; the company stands in the most profound silence, as contemplating the objects before them.-He a young man of 25, she a young woman of 20—He wishing our absence; she fearing it. The eyes of every one of us spectators naturally searching the object with which they could best be pleased in the same condition, my eyes met Miss Pincers', in which there was such a sweet compliance, such a revel invitation, immediately checked when observed and answered by me, that I ever since concluded she had something more than good-will for me. Umbrage. Well, if she has it, I shall be far from lessening it; but will, as you seem to desire, accompany her, and improve it. Severn. I form great hopes of success from that declaration: but as the lady is mighty theatrically disposed, I beseech you to shew her the pleasure and beauties of the house. Umbrage. All that is in my power:-all that is not, I must leave to you. Severn. I will not doubt of success. To gain a she, a sure she-friend provide; |