_Aunt._ Yet, I assure you, there was a great many matches proposed to me: There was Sir Gilbert Jolly, but he, forsooth, could not please; he drank ale and smoked tobacco, and was no fine gentleman, forsooth--But then, again, there was young Mr. Peregrine Shapely, who had travelled, and spoke French, and smiled at all I said; he was a fine gentleman--but then he was consumptive. And yet again, to see how one may be mistaken; Sir Jolly died in half-a-year, and my Lady Shapely has by that thin slip eight children, that should have been mine--but here's the bridegroom.--So, cousin Humphry! _Enter_ HUMPHRY. _Hump._ Your servant, ladies. So, my dear---- _Niece._ So, my savage-- _Aunt._ O fie, no more of that to your husband, Biddy. _Hump._ No matter, I like it as well as duck or love; I know my cousin loves me as well as I do her. _Aunt._ I'll leave you together; I must go and get ready an entertainment for you when you come home. [_Exit._ _Hump._ Well, cousin, are you constant? Do you hate me still? _Niece._ As much as ever. _Hump._ What an happiness it is, when peoples' inclinations jump! I wish I knew what to do with you. Can you get nobody, d'ye think, to marry you? _Niece._ Oh! Clerimont, Clerimont! Where art thou? [_Aside._ _Enter_ AUNT _and_ CAPTAIN CLERIMONT, _disguised._ _Aunt._ This, sir, is the lady whom you are to draw. You see, sir, as good flesh and blood as a man would desire to put in colours--I must have her maiden picture. _Hump._ Then the painter must make haste. Ha, cousin! _Niece._ Hold thy tongue, good savage. _Cler._ Madam, I'm generally forced to new-mould every feature, and mend nature's handiwork; but here she has made so finished an original, that I despair of my copies coming up to it. _Aunt._ Do you hear that, niece? _Niece._ I don't desire you to make graces where you find none. _Cler._ To see the difference of the fair sex! I protest to you, madam, my fancy is utterly exhausted with inventing faces for those that sit to me. The first entertainment I generally meet with, are complaints for want of sleep; they never looked so pale in their lives, as when they sit for their pictures. Then so many touches and retouches, when the face is finished. That wrinkle ought not to have been, those eyes are too languid, that colour's too weak, that side-look hides the mole on the left cheek. In short, the whole likeness is struck out--But in you, madam, the highest I can come up to will be but rigid justice. _Hump._ A comical dog this! _Aunt._ Truly, the gentleman seems to understand his business. _Niece._ Sir,[95] if your pencil flatters like your tongue, you are going to draw a picture that won't be at all like me--Sure I have heard that voice somewhere. [_Aside._