_Cler._ It was Clerimont, the servant of Parthenissa; but let me beseech that beauteous maid to resolve, and make the incident I feigned to her a real one. Consider, madam, you are environed by cruel and treacherous guards, which would force you to a disagreeable marriage; your case is exactly the same with the princess of the Leontines in _Clelia_. _Niece._ How can we commit such a solecism against all rules? What, in the first leaf of our history to have the marriage? You know it cannot be. _Cler._ The pleasantest part of the history will be after marriage. _Niece._ No! I never yet read of a knight that entered tilt or tournament after wedlock; 'tis not to be expected: when the husband begins, the hero ends; all that noble impulse to glory, all the generous passion for adventures, is consumed in the nuptial torch; I don't know how it is, but Mars and Hymen never hit it. _Hump._ [_Listening._] Consumed in the nuptial torch! Mars and Hymen! What can all this mean? I am very glad I can hardly read. They could never get these foolish fancies into my head, I had always a strong brain [_Aside._]--Hark ye, cousin, is not this painter a comical dog? _Niece._ I think he's very agreeable company. _Hump._ Why then I tell you what: marry him--a painter's a very genteel calling. He's an ingenious fellow, and certainly poor. I fancy he'd be glad on't; I'll keep my aunt out of the room a minute or two, that's all the time you have to consider. [_Exit._ _Cler._ Fortune points out to us this only occasion of our happiness: Love's of celestial origin, and needs no long acquaintance to be manifest. Lovers, like angels, speak by intuition; their souls are in their eyes. _Niece._ Then I fear he sees mine. [_Aside._]--But I can't think of abridging our amours, and cutting off all farther decoration of disguise, serenade, and adventure. _Cler._ Nor would I willingly lose the merit of long services, midnight sighs, and plaintive solitudes, were there not a necessity. _Niece._ Then to be seized by stealth! _Cler._ Why, madam, you are a great fortune, and should not be married the common way. Indeed, madam, you ought to be stolen, nay, in strictness, I don't know but you ought to be ravished. _Niece._ But then our history will be so short. _Cler._ I grant it; but you don't consider there's a device in another's leading you instead of this person that's to have you; and, madam, though our amours can't furnish out a romance, they'll make a very pretty novel--Why smiles my fair? _Niece._ I am almost of opinion that had Oroondates been as pressing as Clerimont, Cassandra had been but a pocket-book[99]; but it looks so ordinary, to go out at a door to be married. Indeed, I ought to be taken out of a window, and run away with. _Enter_ HUMPHRY _and_ POUNCE. _Hump._ Well, cousin, the coach is at the door. If you please I'll lead you. _Niece._ I put myself into your hands, good savage; but you promise to leave me.