_Y. Book._ Here was I seized. Meantime, Matilda wakes from her trance, beholding me held like a ruffian, both her brothers bleeding. She was returning to it. What should I do? I saw the hoary father in the divided sorrow, for his sons' lives and daughter's honour, of both which he thought me the invader. She, with pitying, dying and reproaching looks, beseeched me, and taught me what I owed her constant love. I yielded, sir, I own I yielded to the just terror of their family resentment, and to my mistress's more dreadful upbraiding. Thus am I, sir, the martyr of an honest passion---- _O. Book._ That I most blame is, that you concealed it from your best friend. I'll instantly to Penelope's father, and make my apology. He is my friend. [_Exit._ _Lat._ This marriage strangely surprised me. _Y. Book._ Why, did you believe it, too, as well as the old gentleman? Why, then, I did it excellently. Ha! ha! ha! _Lat._ What,[63] the watch! The pistol! Lady swooning! Her pitying, upbraiding look! All chimera? _Y. Book._ Nothing but downright wit, to keep myself safe for Victoria. _Lat._ May I desire one favour? _Y. Book._ What can I deny thee, my privado? _Lat._ Only that you'd give me some little secret hint when next you l----are going to be witty. But to jumble particulars so readily! 'Tis impossible you could, I believe, at the beginning of your tale know the ending--Yet---- _Y. Book._ These are gifts, child, mere gifts; 'tis not to be learnt--the skill of lying--except humour, wit, invention, presence of mind, retention, memory, circumspection, etc., were to be obtained by industry. You must not hum, nor haw, nor blush for't---- _Lat._ Who have we got here? BETTY _entering._ _Bet._ May I be so bold as to crave the liberty to ask your name? _Y. Book._ My bright handmaid, my little she Ganymede--thou charming Hebe--you may ask me my name, for I won't tell it you--till you do; because I'd have the more words with you. _Bet._ Are not you Mr. Bookwit? _Y. Book._ The very same, my dear. _Bet._ There, then [_Giving him letter._] He's a mighty pretty man. [_Exit_ BETTY. _Y. Book._ [_Reading._] "You may wonder--your person and character--this evening, near Rosamond's Pond, on the other side the Park.--VICTORIA." Oh, the happiness! What is become of the girl? Oh! Latine! Latine! ask me fifty questions all at once! What ails me? Why this joy? Who is this from? Oh, I could die, methinks, this moment, lest there should be in fate some future ill to dash my present joy! Why, Jack, why dost not ask me what's the matter? _Lat._ If you'd but give me leave---- _Y. Book._ No; do not speak. Let me talk all; I fain would celebrate my fair one's praise, her every beauty! but the mind's too full to utter anything that is articulate, and will give way to nothing but mere names and interjections. O Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! O my Victoria! Read there. _Lat._ Well, I own this subscribed "Victoria"--but still I am afraid of mistakes.