_Arch_. [_Aside_.] 'Sdeath, what shall I do?--[_Aloud_.] But hark 'ee, child, what need you make me master of yourself and money, when you may have the same pleasure out of me, and still keep your fortune in your hands? _Cher_. Then you won't marry me? {242} _Arch_. I would marry you, but-- _Cher_. O sweet sir, I'm your humble servant, you're fairly caught! Would you persuade me that any gentleman who could bear the scandal of wearing a livery would refuse two thousand pounds, let the condition be what it would? no, no, sir. But I hope you 'll pardon the freedom I have taken, since it was only to inform myself of the respect that I ought to pay you. [_Going_. _Arch_. [_Aside_.] Fairly bit, by Jupiter!--[_Aloud_.] Hold! hold!--And have you actually two thousand pounds? {254} _Cher_. Sir, I have my secrets as well as you; when you please to be more open I shall be more free, and be assured that I have discoveries that will match yours, be what they will. In the meanwhile, be satisfied that no discovery I make shall ever hurt you, but beware of my father! [_Exit_. _Arch_. So! we're like to have as many adventures in our inn as Don Quixote had in his. Let me see-- two thousand pounds--if the wench would promise to die when the money were spent, egad, one would marry her; but the fortune may go off in a year or two, and the wife may live--Lord knows how long. Then an innkeeper's daughter! ay, that's the devil--there my pride brings me off. {268} For whatsoe'er the sages charge on pride, The angels' fall, and twenty faults beside, On earth, I'm sure, 'mong us of mortal calling, Pride saves man oft, and woman too, from falling. [_Exit_. ACT III., SCENE I _The Gallery in Lady Bountiful's House. Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda_. _Mrs. Su_., Ha! ha! ha! my dear sister, let me embrace thee! now we are friends indeed; for I shall have a secret of yours as a pledge for mine--now you'll be good for something, I shall have you conversable in the subjects of the sex. _Dor_. But do you think that I am so weak as to fall in love with a fellow at first sight? _Mrs. Sul_. Psha! now you spoil all; why should not we be as free in our friendships as the men? I warrant you, the gentleman has got to his confidant already, has avowed his passion, toasted your health, called you ten thousand angels, has run over your lips, eyes, neck, shape, air, and everything, in a description that warms their mirth to a second enjoyment. _Dor_. Your hand, sister, I an't well. _Mrs. Sul_. So--she's breeding already--come, child, up with it--hem a little--so--now tell me, don't you like the gentleman that we saw at church just now? _Dor_. The man's well enough. _Mrs. Sul_. Well enough! is he not a demigod, a Narcissus, a star, the man i' the moon? {21} _Dor_. O sister, I'm extremely ill!