_Cher._ Because the painters, out of their weakness, or privilege of their art, chose to hide those eyes they could not draw. _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? _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 that 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. _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! _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. _Arch._ 'Sdeath, what shall I do?--But harkye, 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 own hands? _Cher._ Then you won't marry me? _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._ Fairly bit, by Jupiter!--Hold, hold! And have you actually two thousand pounds? _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 they what they will.--In the mean while, be satisfied that no discovery I make shall ever hurt you; but beware of my father----[_Exit._