The first person I saw at the show, and indeed the express person I came to see, was the Lady Hasselton. Tarleton and myself separated for the present, and I repaired to the coquette. "Angels of grace!" said I, approaching; "and, by the by, before I proceed another word, observe, Lady Hasselton, how appropriate the exclamation is to /you/! Angels of /grace/! why, you have moved all your patches--one--two--three--six-- eight--as I am a gentleman, from the left side of your cheek to the right! What is the reason of so sudden an emigration?" "I have changed my politics, Count,* that is all, and have resolved to lose no time in proclaiming the change. But is it true that you are going to be married?" * Whig ladies patched on one side of the cheek, Tories on the other. "Married! Heaven forbid! which of my enemies spread so cruel a report?" "Oh, the report is universal!" and the Lady Hasselton flirted her fan with the most flattering violence. "It is false, nevertheless; I cannot afford to buy a wife at present, for, thanks to jointures and pin-money, these things are all matters of commerce; and (see how closely civilized life resembles the savage!) the English, like the Tartar gentleman, obtains his wife only by purchase! But who is the bride?" "The Duke of Newcastle's rich daughter, Lady Henrietta Pelham." "What, Harley's object of ambition!* Faith, Madam, the report is not so cruel as I thought for!" * Lord Bolingbroke tells us that it was the main end of Harley's administration to marry his son to this lady. Thus is the fate of nations a bundle made up of a thousand little private schemes. "Oh, you fop!--but is it not true?" "By my honour, I fear not; my rivals are too numerous and too powerful. Look now, yonder! how they already flock around the illustrious heiress; note those smiles and simpers. Is it not pretty to see those very fine gentlemen imitating bumpkins at a fair, and grinning their best /for a gold ring/! But you need not fear me, Lady Hasselton, my love cannot wander if it would. In the quaint thought of Sidney,* love having once flown to my heart, burned its wings there, and cannot fly away." * In the "Arcadia," that museum of oddities and beauties. "La, you now!" said the Beauty; "I do not comprehend you exactly: your master of the graces does not teach you your compliments properly." "Yes, he does, but in your presence I forget them; and now," I added, lowering my voice into the lowest of whispers, "now that you are assured of my fidelity, will you not learn at last to discredit rumours and trust to me?" "I love you too well!" answered the Lady Hasselton in the same tone, and that answer gives an admirable idea of the affection of every coquette! love and confidence with them are qualities that have a natural antipathy, and can never be united. Our /tete-a-tete/ was at an end; the people round us became social, and conversation general.