_Cler._ Only that slight hurt, for the astrologer said at my nativity, nor fire, nor sword, nor pike, nor musket shall destroy this child, let him but avoid fair eyes----But, madam, mayn't I crave the name of her that has so captivated my heart? _Niece._ I can't guess whom you mean by that description; but if you ask my name, I must confess you put me upon revealing what I always keep as the greatest secret I have--for would you believe it, they have called me--I don't know how to own it, but they have called me--Bridget. _Cler._ Bridget? _Niece._ Bridget. _Cler._ Bridget? _Niece._ Spare my confusion, I beseech you, sir; and if you have occasion to mention me, let it be by Parthenissa,[89] for that's the name I have assumed ever since I came to years of discretion. _Cler._ The insupportable tyranny of parents, to fix names on helpless infants which they must blush at all their lives after! I don't think there's a surname in the world to match it. _Niece._ No! What do you think of Tipkin? _Cler._ Tipkin! Why, I think if I was a young lady that had it I'd part with it immediately. _Niece._ Pray, how would you get rid of it? _Cler._ I'd change it for another. I could recommend to you three very pretty syllables--What do you think of Clerimont? _Niece._ Clerimont! Clerimont! Very well--but what right have I to it? _Cler._ If you will give me leave, I'll put you in possession of it. By a very few words I can make it over to you, and your children after you. _Niece._ O fie! Whither are you running? You know a lover should sigh in private, and languish whole years before he reveals his passion; he should retire into some solitary grove, and make the woods and wild beasts his confidants. You should have told it to the echo half-a-year before you had discovered it, even to my handmaid. And yet besides--to talk to me of children! Did you ever hear of a heroine with a big belly? _Cler._ What can a lover do, madam, now the race of giants is extinct? Had I lived in those days there had not been a mortal six foot high, but should have owned Parthenissa for the paragon of beauty, or measured his length on the ground----Parthenissa should have been heard by the brooks and deserts at midnight, the echo's burden and the river's murmur. _Niece._ That had been a golden age, indeed! But see, my aunt has left her grave companion and is coming toward us----I command you to leave me. _Cler._ Thus Oroondates, when Statira[90] dismissed him her presence, threw himself at her feet, and implored permission but to live. [_Offering to kneel._ _Niece._ And thus Statira raised him from the earth, permitting him to live and love. [_Exit_ CLER. _Enter_ AUNT. _Aunt._ Is not Mr. Pounce's conversation very improving, niece? _Niece._ Is not Clerimont a very pretty name, aunt? _Aunt._ He has so much prudence. _Niece._ He has so much gallantry. _Aunt._ So sententious in his expressions. _Niece._ So polished in his language.