Part 51 (1/2)

LORD FROTH. How?

SIR PAUL. Nay, only about poetry, I suppose, my lord; making couplets.

LORD FROTH. Couplets.

SIR PAUL. Oh, here they come.

SCENE XXI.

[_To them_] LADY FROTH, BRISK.

BRISK. My lord, your humble servant; Sir Paul, yours,--the finest night!

LADY FROTH. My dear, Mr. Brisk and I have been star-gazing, I don't know how long.

SIR PAUL. Does it not tire your ladys.h.i.+p? Are not you weary with looking up?

LADY FROTH. Oh, no, I love it violently. My dear, you're melancholy.

LORD FROTH. No, my dear; I'm but just awake.

LADY FROTH. Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn.

LORD FROTH. I've some of my own, thank you, dear.

LADY FROTH. Well, I swear, Mr. Brisk, you understood astronomy like an old Egyptian.

BRISK. Not comparably to your ladys.h.i.+p; you are the very Cynthia of the skies, and queen of stars.

LADY FROTH. That's because I have no light but what's by reflection from you, who are the sun.

BRISK. Madam, you have eclipsed me quite, let me perish. I can't answer that.

LADY FROTH. No matter. Hark 'ee, shall you and I make an almanac together?

BRISK. With all my soul. Your ladys.h.i.+p has made me the man in't already, I'm so full of the wounds which you have given.

LADY FROTH. O finely taken! I swear now you are even with me. O Parna.s.sus, you have an infinite deal of wit.

SIR PAUL. So he has, gads-bud, and so has your ladys.h.i.+p.

SCENE XXII.

[_To them_] LADY PLYANT, CARELESS, CYNTHIA.

LADY PLYANT. You tell me most surprising things; bless me, who would ever trust a man? Oh my heart aches for fear they should be all deceitful alike.