_Y. Book._ Ha! ha! ha!--Why, madam, have they told you of the marriage too? Well, I was hard put to it there. I had like to have been gravelled, faith. You were more beholden to me for that than anything. Had it not been for that, they had married me to Mrs. Penelope, old Getwel's granddaughter, the great fortune; but I refused her for you--who are a greater. [_Aside._ _Lat._ Sir! sir! pray sir, one word---- _Pen. and Vict._ Stand off, sirrah. _Vict._ You shan't come near him; none of your dumb signs. _Pen._ Then you have refused Penelope, though a great fortune! What could you dislike in her? _Y. Book._ The whole woman. Her person, nor carriage please me. She is one of those women of condition, who do and say what they please with an assured air, and think that's enough, only to be called fine mistress such-a-one's manner. _Pen._ This is not to be endured.--I do assure you, sir, Mrs. Penelope has refused your betters. _Y. Book._ I don't much value my betters in her judgment, but am sorry to see you concerned for her. When I have been at church, where I first saw you, I've seen the gay giddy thing in a gallery watching eyes to make curtsies. She is indeed a very ceremonious churchwoman, and never is guilty of a sin of omission to any lady of quality within eye-shot. In short, I don't like the woman, and would go to Tunis or Aleppo for a wife before I'd take her. _Vict._ I cannot bear this of my friend; if you go on, sir, at this rate, Tunis or Aleppo are the properest places for you to show your gallantry in; 'twill never be received by any here--I hope she believes me. [_Aside._ _Pen._ The lady's in the right on't; who can confide in a known common impostor? _Y. Book._[69] Ah, madam! how can you use a man that loves you so unjustly? But call me what you will, liar, cheat, impostor--do but add, your servant, and I am satisfied. I have, indeed, madam, ran through many shifts in hopes to gain you, and could be contented to run through all the shapes in Ovid's Metamorphoses, could I but return to this on my bended knees, of my fair one's humble servant. _Vict._ Prithee let us leave him, as you told me; I wonder you can suffer him to entertain you so long. Leave him, let him kneel to the trees and call to the woods if he will.--Oh, I could brain him--how ugly he looks kneeling to her! [_Aside._ _Pen._ No, I'll stay to plague him more.--But what opinion can I have of this sudden passion? You hardly know me, I believe, or my circumstances? _Y. Book._ No, no, not I; I don't know you. Your mother was not Alderman Sterling's daughter; your father, Mr. Philips, of Gray's Inn, who had an estate and never practised? You had not a brother killed at Landen? Your sister Diana is not dead? nor you are not co-heiress with Miss Molly? No, madam, I don't know you; no, nor love you.