_Cher_. A stealing look, a stammering tongue, words improbable, designs impossible, and actions impracticable. {180} _Arch_. That's my good child, kiss me.---What must a lover do to obtain his mistress? _Cher_. He must adore the person that disdains him, he must bribe the chambermaid that betrays him, and court the footman that laughs at him. He must--he must-- _Arch_. Nay, child, I must whip you if you don't mind your lesson; he must treat his-- {188} _Cher_. Oh ay!--he must treat his enemies with respect, his friends with indifference, and all the world with contempt; he must suffer much, and fear more; he must desire much, and hope little; in short, he must embrace his ruin, and throw himself away. _Arch_. Had ever man so hopeful a pupil as mine!-- Come, my dear, why is love called a riddle? _Cher_. Because, being blind, he leads those that see, and, though a child, he governs a man. _Arch_. Mighty well!--And why is Love pictured blind? _Cher_. Because the painters out of the weakness or privilege of their art chose to hide those eyes that they could not draw. {199} _Arch_. That's my dear little scholar, kiss me again.-- And why should Love, that's a child, govern a man? _Cher_. Because that a child is the end of love. _Arch_. And so ends Love's catechism.--And now, my dear, we'll go in and make my master's bed. _Cher_. Hold, hold, Mr. Martin! You have taken a great deal of pains to instruct me, and what d' ye think I have learned by it? _Arch_. What? {209} _Cher_. That your discourse and your habit are contradictions, and it would be nonsense in me to believe you a footman any longer. _Arch_. 'Oons, what a witch it is! _Cher_. Depend upon this, sir, nothing in this garb shall ever tempt me; for, though I was born to servitude, I hate it. Own your condition, swear you love me, and then-- _Arch_. And then we shall go make my master's bed? _Cher_. Yes. {219} _Arch_. You must know, then, that I am born a gentleman, my education was liberal; but I went to London a younger brother, fell into the hands of sharpers, who stripped me of my money, my friends disowned me, and now my necessity brings me to what you see. _Cher_. Then take my hand--promise to marry me before you sleep, and I'll make you master of two thousand pounds. _Arch_. How! {229} _Cher_. Two thousand pounds that I have this minute in my own custody; so, throw off your livery this instant, and I 'll go find a parson. _Arch_. What said you? a parson! _Cher_. What! do you scruple? _Arch_. Scruple! no, no, but--Two thousand pounds, you say? _Cher_. And better.