_Pounce._ Shan't we repose ourselves on yonder seat? I love improving company, and to communicate. _Aunt._ 'Tis certainly so. He's in love with me, and wants opportunity to tell me so [_Aside._]--I don't care if we do--He's a most ingenious man. [_Aside._ [_Exeunt_ AUNT _and_ POUNCE. _Cler._ We enjoy here, madam, all the pretty landscapes of the country without the pains of going thither. _Niece._ Art and nature are in a rivalry, or rather a confederacy, to adorn this beauteous park with all the agreeable variety of water, shade, walks, and air. What can be more charming than these flowery lawns? _Cler._ Or these gloomy shades---- _Niece._ Or these embroidered valleys---- _Cler._ Or that transparent stream---- _Niece._ Or these bowing branches on the banks of it, that seem to admire their own beauty in the crystal mirror? _Cler._ I am surprised, madam, at the delicacy of your phrase. Can such expressions come from Lombard Street? _Niece._ Alas, sir! what can be expected from an innocent virgin that has been immured almost one-and-twenty years from the conversation of mankind, under the care of an Urganda[87] of an aunt? _Cler._ Bless me, madam, how have you been abused! Many a lady before your age has had an hundred lances broken in her service, and as many dragons cut to pieces in honour of her. _Niece._ Oh, the charming man! [_Aside._ _Cler._ Do you believe Pamela was one-and-twenty before she knew Musidorus?[88] _Niece._ I could hear him ever. [_Aside._ _Cler._ A lady of your wit and beauty might have given occasion for a whole romance in folio before that age. _Niece._ Oh, the powers! Who can he be?--Oh, youth unknown--But let me, in the first place, know whom I talk to, for, sir, I am wholly unacquainted both with your person and your history. You seem, indeed, by your deportment, and the distinguishing mark of your bravery which you bear, to have been in a conflict. May I not know what cruel beauty obliged you to such adventures till she pitied you? _Cler._ Oh, the pretty coxcomb! [_Aside._]--Oh, Blenheim, Blenheim! Oh, Cordelia, Cordelia! _Niece._ You mention the place of battle. I would fain hear an exact description of it. Our public papers are so defective; they don't so much as tell us how the sun rose on that glorious day--Were there not a great many flights of vultures before the battle began? _Cler._ Oh, madam, they have eaten up half my acquaintance. _Niece._ Certainly never birds of prey were so feasted; by report, they might have lived half-a-year on the very legs and arms our troops left behind 'em. _Cler._ Had we not fought near a wood we should never have got legs enough to have come home upon. The joiner of the Foot Guards has made his fortune by it. _Niece._ I shall never forgive your General. He has put all my ancient heroes out of countenance; he has pulled down Cyrus and Alexander, as much as Louis-le-Grand--But your own part in that action?