_Bey. Jun._ Now, madam, you make me vain, since the utmost pride and pleasure of my life is, that I esteem you as I ought. _Ind._ [_Aside._] As he ought! still more perplexing! he neither saves nor kills my hope. _Bev. Jun._ But, madam, we grow grave, methinks. Let's find some other subject--Pray how did you like the opera last night? _Ind._ First give me leave to thank you for my tickets. _Bey. Jun._ Oh! your servant, madam. But pray tell me, you now, who are never partial to the fashion, I fancy must be the properest judge of a mighty dispute among the ladies, that is, whether _Crispo_ or _Griselda_[128] is the more agreeable entertainment. _Ind._ With submission now, I cannot be a proper judge of this question. _Bev._ How so, madam? _Ind._ Because I find I have a partiality for one of them. _Bev. Jun._ Pray which is that? _Ind._ I do not know; there's something in that rural cottage of Griselda, her forlorn condition, her poverty, her solitude, her resignation, her innocent slumbers, and that lulling _dolce sogno_ that's sung over her; it had an effect upon me that--in short I never was so well deceived, at any of them. _Bev. Jun._ Oh! Now then, I can account for the dispute. Griselda, it seems, is the distress of an injured innocent woman, Crispo, that only of a man in the same condition; therefore the men are mostly concerned for Crispo, and, by a natural indulgence, both sexes for Griselda. _Ind._ So that judgment, you think, ought to be for one, though fancy and complaisance have got ground for the other. Well! I believe you will never give me leave to dispute with you on any subject; for I own, Crispo has its charms for me too. Though in the main, all the pleasure the best opera gives us is but mere sensation. Methinks it's pity the mind can't have a little more share in the entertainment. The music's certainly fine, but, in my thoughts, there's none of your composers come up to old Shakespeare and Otway. _Bev._ How, madam! why if a woman of your sense were to say this in a drawing-room---- _Enter a_ SERVANT. _Serv._ Sir, here's Signor Carbonelli[129] says he waits your commands in the next room. _Bev._ Apropos! you were saying yesterday, madam, you had a mind to hear him. Will you give him leave to entertain you now? _Ind._ By all means; desire the gentleman to walk in. [_Exit_ SERVANT. _Bev._ I fancy you will find something in this hand that is uncommon. _Ind._ You are always finding ways, Mr. Bevil, to make life seem less tedious to me. _Enter_ MUSIC MASTER. When the gentleman pleases. [_After a Sonata is played,_ BEVIL _waits on the Master to the door, etc._]