_Pen._ The fellow's very well, and I am mightily mistaken if my cousin Victoria did not think so. _Lett._ And so do you heartily. [_Aside._ _Pen._ Yet I wish I had seen this young Bookwit before Lovemore came to-day. _Lett._[59] I'll tell you how, madam. Victoria has ne'er a lover, and is your entire friend. Now, madam, suppose you got her to write a letter to this young gentleman in her own name. You meet him under that name incognito; then, if an accident should happen, both you and she will be safe, and puzzle the truth: you never writ to him, she never met him. _Pen._ A lucky thought--step to her immediately. I'll come to her, or she to me. _Lett._ I fly, I fly. [_Exit._ _Pen._ This is, indeed, a lucky hint of the wench, in which I have another drift, too. Now shall I sift my friend Victoria, and perfectly understand whether she likes that agreeable young fellow; for if her reserved humour easily falls in with this design on Bookwit, she's certainly smitten with the other, and suspects me to be so too--What is this dear, this sudden intruder, love, that Victoria's long and faithful friendship, Lovemore's anxious and constant passion, both vanish before it in a moment? Why are our hearts so accessible at our eyes?--My dear---- _Enter_ VICTORIA _and_ LETTICE. _Vict._ Dear Pen, I ran to you. Well, what is it? _Pen._ Set chairs, and the bohea tea, and leave us. [_Exit_ LETT.] Dear Victoria, you have always been my most intimate bosom friend; your wary carriage and circumspection have often been a safety against errors to me--I must confess it. [_Filling her tea._ _Vict._ But, my dear, why this preface to me? To the matter-- _Pen._ You know all that has passed between me and Mr. Lovemore. _Vict._ I have always approved him, and do now more than ever; for 'tis not a mien and air that makes that worthy creature, a kind husband; but---- _Pen._ True, but here was old Bookwit this morning, with my father's authority to talk to me of the subject of love. _Vict._ Nay, madam, if so, and you can resolve to obey your father--I contend not for Lovemore; for though the young men of this age are so very vicious, so expensive, both of their health and fortune---- _Pen._ How zealous she is to put me out of her way! False creature! [_Aside._]--But, my dear friend, you don't take me; your friendship outruns my explanation. 'Twas for his son at Oxford he came to me: He is to walk with him before the door that I may view him, by-and-by. _Vict._ Nay, as one must obey their parents wholly, I think a raw young man that never saw the town is better than an old one that has run through all its vices. I congratulate your good fortune. There's a great estate; and he knows nothing--just come to town. The furniture and the horse-cloths will be all your own device for the wedding, and the horses when and where you please. He knows no better. _Pen._ But one shall be so long teaching a raw creature a manner.